#magenta x reader

[prael]

An Oral Agreement

QWER Magenta x male reader

Masterlist word count: 3,008 Kofi(donations/commissions)

She's equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

Magenta.

No last name. Or maybe that is her last name. Either way, that's all it said on the rental agreement and her bedroom door when you first moved in: Magenta. The letters were all lowercase like she was too cool for proper grammar. You know Magenta, in the Biblical sense (and it didn’t take long).

She's always in her room streaming or recording or...doing whatever it is social media influencers do when they aren't online. But she likes candles, fried rice and catcore aesthetics. She thinks pumpkin spice season starts September 1st and she loves reality TV. Not exactly the makings of a deep and spiritual connection.

Now, living with Magenta, well, it has its ups and downs.

There are some things that never get done around here without you doing them; she rarely cooks, which wouldn't bother you so much if she at least did dishes once in a while. It doesn't help that she takes long hot showers. In a house with only one bathroom, this can really put a cramp in your morning routine.

Magenta doesn't clean the place very often either. At first, you just let it go because everybody has their own ways of doing things, right? But after a few weeks of living together, you realised that she's just...not going to do it. Like ever. So then there's nothing for it but to either live in a constant state of messiness or bite the bullet yourself.

Sometimes you feel like you're not living with a roommate so much as providing lodging for some kind of freeloading spirit that passes through periodically.

When you first moved in, you were worried about what your roommate might think of you: would they be weirded out by your habits? Would they judge your taste in decorations? Would you get along? Would you have enough space for both of you?

Those fears melted away pretty quickly once you met her. You could tell from the moment she opened the door that day (and didn't even look up from her phone) that she didn’t care.

You soon learned that Magenta is messy but friendly. She stays up all night and sleeps during the day. She's everywhere online: Instagrammer, Tiktokker (is that what they call it?), live streamer or these days she’s even on the radio and TV. She doing something for one of those things right now, with her bedroom door closed and music playing faintly behind it.

You're standing in the kitchen, staring down her latest infringement. Now, these empty take-out boxes were here this morning when you left. They were also here last night, and yesterday afternoon, and...you get where this is going.

"Hey, you awake in there?!" you shout towards her bedroom but get no response.

With a sigh, you walk over to her door and knock. Twice. Then again, louder when you still get no response. Finally, you resort to pounding on it repeatedly until it suddenly swings open to reveal your roommate shouting, "What!?" You step back, slightly taken aback by how loudly she said that single word. Her eyes soften instantly, though when they land on you.

She looks good. Not even just in a 'good for someone who hasn't slept yet today' kind of way. Just straight-up hot. Magenta wears a faded pink crop top emblazoned with an anime character and little cut-off cotton shorts covered in cookie prints. The low waistband of the shorts hangs off her hips, exposing the start of a light purple thong that cuts diagonally across her hip bones.

"I think our apartment might get condemned if you don't clean sometime soon."

Your roommate leans against the door frame. She pushes some dark brown hair behind her ear as she says, "Can't you do it for me? Just this once?"

"Just this once?" you repeat, crossing your arms. Your lips curl into a smile as you ask back to her, "Can't you do it just this once?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm always reminding you to clean, and you never do it. So guess who does it? It's not the magical cleaning fairy—it's me."

Her eyes roll skyward so forcefully you imagine you can hear them squeaking in their sockets.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" she says. "This seems really petty."

"It's not petty," you protest. "I have stuff to do and I shouldn't have to keep picking up after my adult roommate." You say the word 'adult' laden with implications. She gets your meaning immediately. Her lips twist.

"oh, I get it," she says with a smirk. "I guess it's been a while since I gave you a little thank you. Well, I need to get this video finished, so could you maybe clean it up and come back here after?"

So there's the perks. Two of them actually, as she pulls up her pink crop top and flashes you what's beneath. A pair of purple lace bra cups strain to contain your roommate's ample endowment. Pale skin pours out from beneath them, flesh squeezing together into a deep cleavage that entices you closer even as you shake your head.

"You can't keep pulling tricks like this, Magenta," you say, trying desperately to hold onto your train of thought while also enjoying the view. It helps that you know those breasts intimately. Hell, you've worshipped those breasts. They've spilt around your hands, smothered your face and laid upon your thighs. You know what the soft warmth inside each cup feels like. And, God, they feel really fucking good.

"I really appreciate your help and everything," she says, her bottom lip suddenly pushing out into a cute pout that goes well beyond suggestive. "And I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate it..."

Your resolve lasts right up until Magenta runs a finger down one of her tits to tease along the edge of the lacy purple material. That's when you give up. There's no point in fighting anymore—she has won this battle (just like all others).

"Just go finish your work already," you finally say, letting out a sigh.

Magenta smiles and giggles, lowering her shirt. "Thanks. Love ya!"

With a wink, she slips back into her room. You stand alone for several seconds before shaking your head. Back to cleaning, then.

-

It's not exactly easy to focus on sorting the recycling into the correct bins when your roommate has just reminded you how nice her tits are. They're on your mind a lot, to be honest. More than they should be probably. Sometimes they're on your cock, though not as often as they should be. Probably.

You're counting your blessings that none of the neighbours are doing late-night recycling because then you'd have to explain why your face is red and your pants are bulging.

That doesn't stop the occasional glance towards your neighbour's house, where Mrs Kim likes to smoke on her front porch some nights. You think she smokes more than she should, but that's really none of your business. Her watching you from across the street, however, is very much your business, so you peek over your shoulder once in a while to check if she's spying. Again. Or still. Whatever.

One last box. The light outside is fading rapidly, but you can just barely make out that it comes from...the Greek place you love?

Oh. Oh no. Did she eat gyros and not bring you any? Damn, that girl knows how to be cruel!

When the recycling is finally squared away you dust off your hands. It's a symbolic gesture since all you've done is shove cardboard and glass into the right bins, but it makes you feel accomplished nonetheless.

Back in the apartment and lock the door behind you.

"There you are. Where have you been?"

"The bins, have you ever seen them before?" You mock while still fiddling with the lock chain.

"That was quick," comes her response. Your eyes follow the sound of her voice. Magenta is lying upside-down on the couch. She swings her feet lazily in the air while looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair cascades nearly to the floor. Those short shorts mean you can see most of her long legs. Then there's the curve of her hip, the crease of her thigh... "Get over here."

It's a rare occasion that Magenta voluntarily puts her phone down, yet she does just that as you walk over. The closer you get, the more enticing her position becomes: laying across the couch, head tipped backwards off the cushions to watch you approach her.

"So," she says. Her fingertips brush over the exposed skin of her belly. The fingers trace lines up and across her abdomen, moving between the edge of her shorts and her top. The motion catches your eye—and she knows it. "I owe you, don't I?" Her eyelids flutter innocently. Or rather, far less than innocently.

"For today? Yeah. Definitely." You clear your throat and try again, "For quite a few days, actually."

"Quite a few," she echoes in agreement. Her hand continues to crawl upward until it reaches the peak of her breasts rising beneath her faded pink crop top. The movement presses the supple skin together in a way that has you standing right in front of her before you even realize you've walked over.

She pushes them hard together before letting them settle back to normal. Gravity spreads them apart, flesh pouring across her chest from the tightly gathered fabric keeping them barely contained. She reaches out over her head, to you, and grabs you by the belt buckle. Pulls you forward until you are stood over her. Even though she's upside down, she makes such effortless work of unbuckling the leather strap that you barely notice. One second it's on; the next it's flapping loose.

It takes only two sharp tugs to force your pants and boxers down past your knees. Magenta doesn't waste any time reaching out to touch your cock, gently running her hands over it until she can wrap her entire hand around the warm shaft and pull you until you fall to your knees. Her head hangs right in front your your length, and you see the teasing sparkle in her eye even upside down.

Her hot breath hits the skin of your bare cock. Lips press a series of soft, wet kisses down from your tip towards your balls. Then back up again, trailing even more tiny pecks that leave your skin tingling. You let your cock nudge against her cheek, feeling it slide along the smooth skin.

With both hands wrapped around your cock, Magenta holds your tip right in front of her mouth. Her tongue sticks out from between her lips, slowly, methodically lapping circles around the crown of your cock.

"Oh, God," you mutter, and you need to hold onto something, anything. First, it's the couch, then it's her tits.

Your hand lands heavily atop the nearest swell of flesh and squeezes tight, pushing it further out of her crop top. She hums approvingly at the groping and wraps her lips around your cockhead. Suckles sweetly. Slurps noisily until spit pools at the corner of her stretched lips.

She lets gravity help guide your cock into her waiting mouth. The further you slip inside, the more she relaxes her jaw to accept you. But then she reaches up and pulls on your hips. You glide up against her grateful tongue. Until her nose meets your stomach. She gags. It's so fucking lewd.

The whole thing makes you squeeze her chest harder. So big in your palm and yet somehow always bigger than you remember. You forget sometimes just how incredible these tits are. When they bounce in a video she's recorded, you remember—but never quite how heavy they are when you hold them; the way they give to your grasp in exactly the right amount; or the way her nipple puckers just slightly as it stiffens beneath your kneading grip.

"You're so sexy like this," you say.

The compliment elicits an appreciative groan from Magenta. Her head moves with your hips now, bobbing to meet each thrust, spit dripping down her cheeks. The messiness of the sloppy blowjob matches her other personality traits frighteningly well.

With her head pinned and her arms on you, you're free to pull up her shirt and expose her. The dirty minx has taken off her bra, so the expanse of her milky skin greets you. You cup them in each palm, feeling the heft of them, squeezing them greedily. They push back, moulding into the shape of your desire, and she moans, a low guttural note vibrating right through your length.

Her body writhes beneath your attention. Her thighs spread outwards, feet rolling at the ankle in time with each gently guided thrust into her throat. Fingers squeeze you, scratching lightly at the skin above your ass to encourage you deeper inside her hungry maw. Deeper into her throat until she chokes—

You let up, panting, admiring the sight of her stretched out for your viewing pleasure. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you from her upside-down position. The intensity in them draws you in again.

"Oh shit," you groan as you drive into her, plunging your cock balls deep until her purple-painted nails dig into the small of your back. You pump faster, lost in the warm embrace of her greedy sucking.

Magenta squirms beneath you, whining and groaning and bucking, begging you for more. Her cunt must be throbbing with anticipation. Poor thing wants your cum. You can tell.

You want her tits.

She gasps when you fully withdraw from her mouth. Her face is a fucking mess of saliva and smudged makeup. Before she can question you, you reposition yourself in front of her, straddling her beautiful face as you lower your rigid length between her breasts.

She's quick to pick up what you're putting down. With both hands pressing the creamy flesh of her boobs inward, she creates a tunnel for you to slide your dick into.

It feels as good as it looks. Soft pressure envelops your slick length, wrapping around the sensitive skin and creating a delightful sleeve for you to hump into. You can't get enough.

As soon as you hit a good pace, fucking your roommate's chest hard and fast, she starts giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"It tickles." Her laugh is breathy but not as loud as it usually is. "Keep going."

So you do. Thrust after thrust you plunge deeper, drawing more and more of yourself into the valley between her perfect tits. The more you use her, the further she parts her legs that run up the back of the sofa. Soft thighs splayed for nothing but display. Then, just as you start to admire them, she clenches them together. Your eyes trace down the pale skin until they arrive at her crotch where the bottoms of her cookie-patterned shorts have ridden up against her wet slit. She's gyrating her hips in all sorts of directions and rubbing herself against the material in some attempt to satiate her growing needs.

The soft flesh of her midriff jiggles between the thrusting into her tits and the twisting of her hips below. You can't stop staring. Fuck. How does this girl have every single curve?

At first, you try holding back—you want this to last longer. But after a few seconds, you realize you can't fight this feeling. Not when you've got such a good view. And certainly not with her nipples so hard under the press of your thumbs. She arches up when you pinch them, and you know you're done for.

And then, as if she can feel it by the way you're thrusting, she begins to coo and beg under you. She knows she's getting you close, and she wants it. Bad.

"Cum on me," she coaxes sweetly, the words barely audible over the slapping sounds. "I've been so bad, baby. You deserve to paint my body."

That's all it takes. That final little plea. Your eyes roll back, your hips snap forward and your cock explodes. Thick ropes over her body, the first reaching her thighs before you adjust your aim and finish across the plane of her belly. Soft curves take your load while she encourages you through soft, little pleasured mewls. You may have got some on her shorts, but you paint her stomach white before pulling up and jerking the final drops onto her chest.

"Mmmm, messy boy," Magenta laughs breathlessly as your cum drips down her curves. She lays there beneath you, her smile wide and wickedly innocent, one hand slowly running circles over the sticky mess on her tummy, smearing it across her skin.

After a few seconds of panting and trying to gather yourself, you climb off of her and sit back against the couch. She turns so her head rests in your lap, facing your spent and dripping length. Magenta teases you still by using her own fingertip to collect your seed and place it across her lips, then licking them clean while making sure you're watching. And fuck are you ever.

"So, about my room," she purrs, eyes twinkling mischievously up at you.

"What about it?"

"Well... It needs cleaning, and I was thinking—"

"No," you feign protest, knowing you've already agreed. "Just clean it yourself." Her negotiation will come next. You can see it on her lips. "I'm not doing it."

Magenta leans up and whispers, "But you might change your mind if you find out what's waiting for you beneath my shorts."

That damn purple thong, still visible at her waistband, calls you toward her like a beacon. "What's beneath your shorts?"

Her laugh is playful. A little shrug as her fingers toy at the hem of the garment in question. "Agree to clean my room and you’ll find out."

[rd0265667]

Magenta x Reader: Of Seasons and Symphonies

A/N: This is a fic that might not catch as many of your eyes, given that Qwer and Magenta aren't as big as the usual groups I write for, but I do hope you guys read this and hope this helps to kickstart the QWER fanfic community

Spring

This isn’t a fairytale. Not even close. Fairytales don’t begin in places like this, where hope feels like a ghost, faint and fleeting, like it’s forgotten why it came in the first place. Once upon a time, the world was flawed but breathtaking—messy and wild in a way that almost felt intentional, like it was daring us to do better. We had room to grow, to screw up, to try again. Choices, too—ones we didn’t always get right, but at least they were ours.

But now? Now, you look out the window and see what’s left. A fractured mosaic of humanity, held together by threads so fragile they shimmer, ready to snap under their own weight. Down there, in the shadows of something that used to matter, people don’t live so much as survive, clawing their way through each day because the alternative isn’t any better. And up here, in a palace of glass and gleaming steel, you just watch. Helpless. Or worse—complicit. You wished you could do something about it. But everything had changed too quickly, and now, there is nothing to do but watch.

The world didn’t fall apart slowly. It didn’t even give us time to grieve what we were losing. One moment, there was a path forward; the next, the ground had disappeared under our feet. But even then, we had a chance to fix it. We could’ve fought for what was left, planted our feet, and rebuilt. Instead, we ran.

We turned our backs on the flames and pointed to the stars. Mars. It started like all big ideas do—idealistic, hopeful, wildly expensive. A handful of the world’s wealthiest pooled their fortunes to terraform a planet and call it paradise. And in a way, it worked. Mars became everything Earth could no longer be—pristine, abundant, perfect. A utopia, if you could afford the price of entry.

At first, it was just the billionaires who boarded the ships, their wealth carving out seats for their families and a few carefully chosen friends. Then it was the upper class, the “almost rich,” their one-way tickets bought with every penny they had. The rest of us stayed behind, watching the rockets vanish into the atmosphere, one by one, taking the future with them.

Governments tried to step in, to level the playing field, but the math never added up. The cost of salvation was always just out of reach. What remained of Earth became a pyramid scheme of survival. At the top, the upper-middle class lived comfortably enough to forget how bad things really were, literally living upon mountains, as if to emphasise their self supposed superiority. Below them, the rest of humanity scraped by, scavenging scraps of a once-golden age, living more like cave dwellers than citizens of the 21st century.

“Focus,” your mother snapped, her sharp tone slicing through the room like the crack of a whip. You dragged your gaze away from the window, back to the banquet table, its surface an explosion of opulence. Gilded plates, sparkling crystal, an array of dishes so rich and vibrant they almost looked alive. Lifeless. It was suffocating. Just like everything else here.

“Apologies, Mother,” you murmured, though the words felt as hollow as the polished silver centerpiece. You should be used to this by now. The rigidness, the rehearsed movements, the unspoken rules that turned every family meal into a performance. And yet, it still felt foreign.

“As I was saying,” your mother continued, turning to the butler who stood stiffly in the corner, “the trespassing problem. What’s the latest update, Beakley?”

Beakley cleared his throat, his voice as measured and flat as always. “There has been an uptick in attempts to breach the mountain barriers. The enforcement units have dealt with the intruders.”

Dealt with. Such a tidy little phrase for what he really meant.

“And those trying to leave?” your mother pressed.

Beakley didn’t miss a beat. “A few individuals have been caught attempting to descend into the slums. They were… managed.”

“Sneaking into the slums?” your father scoffed, his voice thick with amusement. “How utterly moronic.” He chuckled, low and earthy, and your siblings joined in, their laughter ringing out like the clink of champagne flutes.

You didn’t laugh. You couldn’t. You just sat there, hands clenched in your lap, forcing your face into an expression that wouldn’t betray the disgust curling in your stomach.

They laughed. Laughed as the world burned.

The dinner continued with that lifeless conversation, you and your siblings finally being excused. As you gazed out from your balcony, you sighed, looking out at the open lands below you. It smelt of Spring. You used to love Spring.

You leaned against the railing, letting your gaze drift across the dark landscape. That’s when you noticed it—a break in the fence. Small, almost unnoticeable, but there. A jagged edge where the metal had bent or rusted away. No guards patrolled nearby.

And then, you heard it.

A voice, soft and low, carried on the breeze, accompanied by the twang of a bass guitar. A song, lilting and sweet, threaded with melancholy so raw it made your chest tighten. The melody danced just beyond reach, but the voice—hers—was unmistakable. It wasn’t just singing; it was an invitation. A tether to something real, something alive, somewhere down there in the darkness.

You pressed a hand to the cold railing, your pulse quickening. For the first time in ages, you felt something stir in you—something reckless, something alive.

The song lingered in the air, tugging at you like a thread unraveling a tightly wound spool. You gripped the railing, your knuckles white against the polished metal, and stared at the jagged tear in the fence below. The world up here, pristine and glittering, suddenly felt suffocating—an artificial cage that smelled of rosewater and desperation. Down there, in the shadows beyond the break in the fence, was something raw and untamed. Real.

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat urging you forward. You stepped back into your room, quickly pulling on a dark coat over your dinner clothes, its hood heavy enough to mask your face. There was no time to think, no time to second-guess what you were about to do.

The halls were silent, their marble floors gleaming under soft, calculated lighting. You moved quickly, your steps light, your breath shallow. The guards wouldn’t expect anyone to leave the compound. Why would they? No one in their right mind would trade gilded cages for the chaos below.

But the chaos was calling you.

You slipped through a side door near the kitchens, your pulse quickening as the cold night air wrapped around you. The fence wasn’t far, the jagged edge glinting faintly in the moonlight. You crouched low, keeping to the shadows as you moved closer, every rustle of the wind making you freeze in place.

When you reached the fence, your fingers brushed the rough metal, and you hissed as a sharp edge nicked your palm. You ignored the sting and pressed on, tugging at the damaged section. The metal groaned, loud enough to send a spike of panic through your chest.

“Come on,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat.

Finally, the gap was wide enough. You slipped through, the jagged edges catching on your coat as you emerged on the other side. The ground here was different—uneven and raw, dirt kicking up beneath your shoes. You were outside the perimeter for the first time in your life.

For a moment, you just stood there, your breath clouding in the night air, the fence a silent sentinel behind you. And then you heard it again—the song.

It was closer now, the voice clearer, rich and haunting. The melody wound through the darkness like a ribbon, pulling you forward. You followed it, your steps cautious at first, then quicker as the song grew louder. The air smelled different here, earthier, filled with the sharp tang of something alive.

She was sitting under a cherry tree, the blossoms stark and ghostly in the moonlight, her bass guitar resting across her lap. Her fingers moved over the strings with a practiced ease that made the song feel effortless, though you could hear the ache in every note. Her head tilted slightly, the movement revealing sharp cheekbones and the soft curve of her mouth, a contrast that stole the air from your lungs.

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped until the music did.

Her head snapped up, and her eyes—dark and unflinching—landed on you. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then she stood, the guitar hanging loosely from its strap over her shoulder, and planted her boots firmly on the ground.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the stillness.

The warmth of her song was gone, replaced by a razor-sharp edge that made you hesitate. She crossed her arms, her stance radiating defiance, as if daring you to take one more step.

“I…” You faltered, suddenly feeling foolish. What could you say that wouldn’t make this worse? “I heard your song.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You heard my song?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “And you thought that was an invitation to waltz on over like this is your backyard?”

“No,” you said quickly, your heart pounding. “It’s not like that. I just… I couldn’t stay up there anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed, her gaze dropping to your coat, your shoes—both of which were far too clean, far too well-made for anyone who belonged here. “Up there,” she echoed, her voice thick with disdain. “Of course.”

She stepped closer, and you could feel the tension radiating off her in waves. “Let me guess,” she said. “You got bored of your glass palace? Thought you’d come slumming it with the rest of us for a little excitement?”

Her words hit like a slap, but you held your ground. “It’s not like that,” you said, your voice firmer now. “I left because… because I needed to. I can’t explain it, but when I heard you—”

“Oh, I see,” she interrupted, her tone mocking. “You heard a pretty song and decided to go on a little adventure. Must be nice to have that kind of freedom.”

“It’s not freedom,” you said, your chest tightening. “There’s nothing free about it. You think I don’t know what this means? That I don’t know what’ll happen if they catch me down here?”

For the first time, her expression faltered. Her eyes flicked to the fence in the distance, then back to you, as if weighing your words against her instincts. “Then why risk it?” she asked quietly, the sharpness in her voice giving way to something softer. “Why come down here at all?”

You hesitated, struggling to put it into words. “Your song was the first real thing I’ve experienced in, ages.” You took a step closer, your voice dropping. “It felt real. Like I could finally breathe.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her guitar. “Well, that’s poetic,” she muttered, but her voice lacked its earlier bite.

“It’s true,” you said, taking another step. “And I think you know it too.”

She glanced back at you, her eyes searching yours as if trying to decide whether to trust you. “You’re really not like the rest of them, are you?” she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with curiosity.

You shook your head. “No. I’m not.”

For a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling through the trees. Then she sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “Magenta,” she said abruptly.

You blinked. “What?”

“My name,” she said, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Figured I should tell you, since you’re apparently risking life and limb to hear my music.”

“Your real name is Magenta? What’s the meaning behind it?” You ask.

“My parents weren’t poets, neither am I, my name’s Magenta, that’s that.”

“Magenta,” you repeated, the name settling on your tongue like a secret. “It suits you.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” she said, though her smirk lingered. “You’re still a rich kid trespassing in my world.”

“And you’re still just a singer with a bass guitar,” you said, unable to hide your grin.

Her laugh was quiet but genuine, and it sent warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re trouble,” she said, shaking her head. “I can already tell.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, your gaze locked on hers. “But so are you.”

She didn’t deny it. Instead, she looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and intrigue, her walls cracking just enough to let you see the person beneath. The distance between you felt smaller now, the night pressing in around you, making the world seem impossibly close.

“What song was that? An original creation?” you asked, sliding down to sit beside her. You leaned back against the cherry tree, your eyes drifting toward the fields stretching before you—worn paths of dirt and grass where people like Magenta’s family likely lived, their lives tethered to the earth in a way you hadn’t known in years.

“It is. I call it Rough,” she replied, tossing you an apple from her bag with a casual flick of her wrist. “You like it?”

You caught it, weighing the fruit in your hand before biting into it. The sweet juice dripped down your chin as you spoke, your voice laced with the faintest amusement. “You do realize I’m risking my life to hear it, right?”

Magenta raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. “Guess I’m just that good.”

You chuckled but didn’t let go of the question lingering in your mind. “I have to ask, though… is that song for anybody? It sounds… kind of romantic.”

She hesitated, her fingers absently picking at the strings of her guitar. The night felt suddenly heavier, as if the air itself were waiting for her answer. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment, her voice softer, almost unsure. “The lyrics just came to me one spring day, you know? Like they were already there, waiting to be sung.” She turned her gaze away from you for a moment, staring out over the fields. “Guess sometimes the songs write themselves. Maybe I’ll know why the song chose me one day.”

“And you say you’re not a poet.” You say, your eyes with a teasing glint.

“Oh shut it rich kid, or I’ll stop singing.” Magenta teases back, nudging you with her shoulder, her velvet smile more beautiful than anything you had seen in years. Perhaps the most beautiful thing you’d ever see

Summer

The summer sun hung heavy in the sky, draping the orchard in a golden haze. Everything smelled like ripe fruit and freshly turned earth, the kind of heady sweetness that clung to your skin long after you left. You wound your way through rows of cherry trees, the bag over your shoulder growing heavier with each step, though you couldn’t quite summon the energy to care. You already knew where she’d be.

And you were right. Magenta sat perched on the low branch of that same old cherry tree, her guitar resting on her lap, its worn wood catching the sunlight like it belonged there. Her hair shimmered as though she were something out of a dream—or maybe something sharper, something too smart and too fleeting to pin down. She glanced up when she heard your steps crunching over the dry grass and gave you that grin—the one that always landed somewhere between playful and cutting, like a dare and an invitation rolled into one.

“Took you long enough,” she said, her voice lilting in that teasing way that made it impossible to tell if she was actually annoyed or just liked keeping you on edge. Probably the latter.

“I had to smuggle this past a fence, you know,” you said, jerking your chin toward the overstuffed bag weighing down your shoulder. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to climb while also keeping contraband intact?”

Her gaze flickered to the bag, and for the briefest moment, her expression wavered. Her walls went up so fast it felt like watching shutters slam closed. “I told you not to do that anymore,” she said, strumming a soft, dissonant chord. “It’s not like I asked for this. I don’t want—” She stopped, exhaling hard like she was trying to push the words out. “I don’t want this relationship to feel transactionary.”

“Good thing it’s not,” you replied easily, setting the bag down between you and dusting your hands off like it had been some monumental task. “It’s not even for you. It’s for everyone. You just happen to be the only one sitting under this particular tree…the tree I always come to.”

Her lips twitched, but she stubbornly fought the smile threatening to break free. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Funny. That’s not what you said last time,” you quipped, brushing a hand across your brow for dramatic effect. “If I remember correctly, you called me a saint. Or was it an idiot?”

Magenta snorted, finally setting her guitar aside. “Definitely an idiot.”

“Yeah, that tracks.”

For a moment, the air between you held its usual electric charge—the one that always felt just shy of sparking, like a storm that hadn’t quite gathered itself. Then she hopped down from her perch, landing with a soft thud beside you. Up close, she was all sharp edges softened by the sunlight, her quick smile disarming even as her eyes stayed guarded.

“So, what’s the grand prize today?” she asked, nodding at the bag but keeping her hands conspicuously to herself.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you teased, unzipping the bag slowly, savoring her impatience. Her eyes darted toward the contents like she couldn’t help herself. “Honeycombs,” you said, pulling a jar out.

“This is your big smuggling job? A honeycomb?” she asked, though she didn’t put the peach down.

“That’s not what I brought for everyone. For everyone, I brought just a variety of foods, whatever was free at the kitchen and pantry. I got you the honeycombs because you were complaining about your throat that one time, besides, it’s sweet, kinda messy, and a pain in the ass to deal with, just like you.”

“Wow, thanks for the compliment.” she said dryly, plucking the jar from your hand. 

“You’re welcome,” you said, leaning against the tree and watching as she twisted the lid open with her bare hands. She dipped a finger into the jar and took a bite without hesitation, her expression carefully neutral as she licked the honey off her finger. “Good?”

“It’s fine,” she said, shrugging, though the way she reached for another taste betrayed her.

“That’s the highest praise I’ve ever gotten from you,” you said, grinning. “I think I might cry.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible,” she muttered around a mouthful.

“And yet, you keep inviting me back,” you said, leaning back against the trunk of the tree and crossing your arms like you’d won some kind of battle. “Why is that, Magenta?”

“I don’t,” she replied quickly, almost too quickly. Then, softer: “You just keep showing up.”

“Same thing.”

She groaned, throwing her head back, but there was a smile pulling at her mouth now, something genuine breaking through her carefully constructed defenses. “You’re exhausting.”

“And yet, here we are,” you said, plucking a peach for yourself and taking a deliberate bite. “Speaking of exhausting,” you added, gesturing to the guitar she’d left lying in the grass. “What’s the latest masterpiece?” You asked, settling back against the tree trunk, your voice light but with just enough weight to make her feel cornered. You knew she hated being put on the spot almost as much as she loved proving people wrong.

Magenta stiffened, her fingers twitching toward the guitar before stopping, like it wasn’t worth the effort. “It’s nothing,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter now, the bravado she always wore peeling away like old paint.

“Oh, come on.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, the teasing edge in your tone softening. “I know it’s going to be good, like all the other songs. What’s it called?”

Her jaw tightened like she was chewing on the answer, debating whether or not to spit it out. Finally, with a sigh so dramatic it should’ve come with its own sound effects, she muttered, “Summer Rain.”

“Wow,” you said, letting out a low whistle as you bit into the honeycomb you’d been holding. “Summer Rain for the season of summer. Truly groundbreaking stuff, Magenta.”

She shot you a glare, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “Do you want me to play it, or do you want me to murder you?”

You grinned, sticky honey smearing the edge of your mouth. “I mean, ideally neither. But if I had to pick…” You dragged the words out just to get under her skin. “I’d say play it. We can revisit the murder option later.”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, but the way she lazily slung the guitar strap over her neck betrayed her. She was going to play it, and you both knew it.

She adjusted the guitar on her lap, her fingers brushing over the strings like she was coaxing them into cooperating. The first few notes came softly, tentatively, like they weren’t sure they belonged. Then her voice slipped into the gaps, low and unpolished but so achingly real it made your chest tighten.

She didn’t look at you while she sang—not at first. Her gaze stayed locked on the space just above her hands, like the music might fall apart if she acknowledged you were there. But as the song stretched on, her eyes started flickering in your direction, fleeting and sharp, like she was daring you to say something, to ruin it, to tell her it wasn’t enough.

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

When she finished, the orchard seemed to hold its breath, the buzzing of insects and the rustle of leaves suddenly muted, like the entire world had paused to listen.

“That,” you said softly, the word feeling too small for the moment, “was incredible.”

Magenta scoffed, her fingers still resting on the strings. “It’s nothing,” she said, her tone casual, but the way her hands fidgeted betrayed her. “Just something I’ve been messing with.”

“It’s not nothing,” you insisted, leaning forward like you could physically close the distance she was trying to create. “It’s you. And it’s beautiful.”

She froze, her fingers tightening around the neck of the guitar. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her expression unreadable, and then she turned her head sharply, her gaze flicking to the horizon like she couldn’t handle the weight of yours.

“Shut up,” she muttered, but the words came out softer than usual, and her lips were already curling into that faint, shy smile she always tried to hide.

“Make me,” you teased, leaning back against the tree with a grin. “Although, fair warning, you’ll have to use some pretty impressive insults to top that song.”

Her eyes snapped back to you, her smile gone but the light in her gaze unmistakable. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep me around,” you shot back, letting the words hang in the air like a challenge.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she set the guitar aside, her hands finally free to pluck the jar of honeycomb from your lap. “That’s because I haven’t figured out how to get rid of you yet.”

“Don’t bother,” you said, your voice dipping lower as she unscrewed the jar’s lid with a deliberate twist. “I’m like this orchard. Sticky, sweet, and entirely too much in the summer.”

Her laugh burst out before she could stop it, a real, unguarded sound that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” you said, watching as she dipped her fingers into the jar and pulled out a small chunk of honeycomb. “But I’m also right about the song.”

She popped the honeycomb into her mouth, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she chewed. “You’re exhausting,” she said, but her voice had softened, the edges worn down by whatever it was you managed to get past her walls.

“And yet, you wrote a whole song about me,” you said, crossing your arms like you’d just won the argument.

“Summer Rain is not about you,” she shot back, rolling her eyes so hard it looked like it might hurt.

“Oh, sure,” you said, raising a brow. “Tell me you weren’t thinking about me every time you sang about love.”

She groaned, leaning her head back against the tree, but this time she didn’t fight the smile. “Shut up, or I swear to god, the murder option is back on the table.”

“Make me,” you said again, your grin wide and shameless.

Autumn

Summer came and went, and soon, Autumn dawned, and all you could think of was, what new symphony had Magenta cooked up

"Your father has requested your presence. You will head to the main hall immediately," Beakley’s voice came through the door, as crisp as ever, a reminder of everything you couldn't escape. His uniform, perfectly pressed and stiff as always, made your stomach tighten, like you were already expected to be something you weren’t.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair and quickly straightening your shirt. You hoped your nerves weren’t showing as you hurried downstairs. Your father sat at the large mahogany table, his expression a perfect mask of authority. Across from him was Mr. Suputhipong, a businessman whose smile didn’t reach his eyes, and beside him—Natty.

"Where are your manners?" Your father’s voice snapped, making you wince. "Come, greet Mr. Suputhipong’s daughter."

You gave a stiff bow, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. "Good morning, Mr. Suputhipong."

He gave a sharp nod, his voice booming but empty. "Ah, lovely. Now, if you would, take my daughter for a walk in your garden." It wasn’t a request. It never was.

You nodded and motioned for Natty to follow you, and the two of you stepped outside, the heavy door closing behind you like a lock clicking into place.

The garden, with its manicured hedges and perfectly laid paths, felt like yet another gilded cage. You didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to walk with Natty like this—playacting under the watchful eyes of parents whose plans were already made for you both.

"So…" Natty’s voice cut through your thoughts, light and easy, as though it were nothing at all. "Guess we're stuck with each other for a bit."

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like it."

She shrugged, her hands slipping into her pockets, her posture relaxed in a way that seemed effortless. "At least we’re outside," she added with a small grin. "Could be worse."

You chuckled at that. It was true—things could always be worse—but Natty’s casual ease made you feel like she didn’t take any of this seriously. You had to admire that, even if you didn’t feel the same way.

“So... this is what we're doing now, huh?” she said, her tone more dry than curious, but there was an amused look in her eyes. “Walking around pretending like we care about all this nonsense?”

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, pretty much." It was like living in a play where you were always the understudy, never the lead. “I can’t say I’m a fan of these… arranged encounters.”

"Arranged, huh?" Natty’s voice was playful, but there was an edge of weariness to it. “Guess we both know why we’re out here. Both are just tokens in their little plan.”

Her bluntness surprised you, but it also made something inside you snap into place. "Yeah," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "Pretty much. Just pieces in a game."

Natty snorted softly, her lips curling into a dry smile. "Funny how they pretend it's all about alliances and family pride when it’s really about keeping us where they want us. Like we're anything but chess pieces."

You didn’t have to think hard to agree. It wasn’t something you’d ever quite put into words before, but Natty had said it exactly right. You both knew the truth, even if neither of you wanted to say it aloud.

"You’re right," you said, your voice quieter now, the weight of it all pressing down on you. "They want us to fall in line. To just... follow the script."

Natty leaned against the garden wall, her gaze drifting across the horizon as if searching for something beyond the perfectly neat rows of flowers and trees. "Yeah, well. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of the script," she said, her grin playful but with a hint of rebellion. "I’d rather be anywhere else right now."

You chuckled, though it felt more strained than you wanted to admit. "I’m getting there too."

The conversation fell into a comfortable silence. You both stood there for a moment, side by side, the shared understanding hanging between you, unspoken but undeniable. The arrangements, the alliances, the families using you as pawns—it all felt suffocating. But as much as Natty was easy to talk to, to be around, the truth was clear: she wasn’t her

There was someone else. Someone who wasn’t part of this world.

Magenta.

You thought of her, and your chest tightened. It wasn’t just a passing thought, either. She made you feel like you could breathe, like you didn’t have to conform to the rigid mold that had been set for you. When you were with her, you could be yourself. Unpretentious. Untethered to expectations.

She was real.

And you couldn’t get her out of your mind. The way her laugh seemed to make the flowers sing back in a harmonious melody, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she loved. The way she never tried to make herself something she wasn’t. You thought about her when you woke, when you closed your eyes at night.

You thought about her now.

But Natty, standing next to you, was just... easy. She wasn’t Magenta, and it wasn’t fair to either of you to pretend that she could be.

"So, what about you?" Natty’s voice pulled you back into the present, her eyes suddenly sharper, as if she had read the shift in your expression. "Anyone in your life?"

You hesitated, the weight of her question lingering longer than you would’ve liked. Magenta’s face flashed in your mind, her smile, her energy, and your chest tightened all over again.

"Yeah," you said finally, keeping your tone neutral. "But it's... complicated." You didn’t need to say more. Natty didn’t press.

She looked at you for a moment, her gaze softening, as if understanding the layers behind your words. "Yeah, me too," she said with a small, knowing smile. "We all have someone, don’t we? It’s just… in this world, it’s never really about what we want. It’s about what fits. Like we’re jigsaw puzzles first and humans second."

You nodded, the unspoken truth between you both like a weight that refused to lift. "Exactly. It’s never been about us."

The silence that followed was comfortable in a way, but it was also heavy. You both knew what was coming, even if neither of you wanted it. The arrangements. The alliances. The marriages.

And the truth you couldn’t ignore: you were both stuck with futures that weren’t yours to choose.

"I guess we just have to play along for a little while longer," you said softly, breaking the silence.

Natty gave a small, resigned nod. "Yeah. For now."

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, a resigned look as you lean on the railing.

“I’m sorry too.” Natty responds in earnest, the both you stuck in this sick game

“You’re late,” Magenta said, her voice teasing but warm as her fingers strummed effortlessly across her guitar, the sound carrying lightly in the cool evening air. She didn’t look at you as she played, but you could hear the smile in her voice.

You chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I swear, you always know when I’m running late. Are you watching me from the window?”

She smirked, still not looking at you. “I’ve got my ways.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, sure,” you teased, walking closer to her, boots crunching on the wet grass. “And what’s your excuse? You were probably waiting here for ages already.”

Magenta finally looked up at you, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I don’t need an excuse. Time doesn’t pressure me the way it does you.” She grinned, letting the last note of her guitar linger in the air before she added, “Though, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad I made it before you started your solo concert,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you took a step back, mock bowing as if she were the star of the show. “Should I be impressed?”

Her lips curled into a playful smile. “Oh, absolutely. But if you’re so impressed, you better be ready to hear my new song.”

“New song?” you asked, leaning against the nearby tree, intrigued. “Well, I’m all ears. What’s it about this time?”

Magenta’s fingers moved with ease over the guitar, the chords shifting into a new pattern. “This one’s called All About You.” She said it matter-of-factly, but there was a hint of something behind her words, something she wasn’t quite sharing.

You raised an eyebrow. “All About You? Seriously? Sounds a bit... on the nose, don’t you think?”

She shot you a playful glare but didn’t respond, letting the song speak for itself. The melody was soft at first, a gentle flow that pulled you in, but it quickly became clear that the song was filled with emotion—warmth, longing, and something far more intimate than you were expecting.

By the time the chorus hit, the words were unmistakably romantic, and the way Magenta sang them made it feel like she was pouring every bit of herself into the song. You couldn’t help but grin, listening closely as the lyrics unfolded, each one wrapping around you like a thread tying you to something she couldn’t hide.

When the song finished, you couldn’t help but give her a knowing smile. “Wow, that’s definitely... all about someone.”

Magenta set the guitar down with a light laugh, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks. “What? You think I wrote it for you or something?” she asked, her tone defensive, though it only made the blush on her face more obvious.

You smirked, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I didn’t say anything. But if I’m the first one that came to mind…I mean, it sounds like it’s about someone. You really think you can write a song that sappy and not have it be about... well, someone?”

She rolled her eyes, clearly flustered, but she wasn’t backing down. “It’s not about you. I didn’t even mention your name.”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, trying to suppress your grin. “I didn’t say it was. But it’s obvious, right? All those lyrics about being captivated, about waiting for someone—come on, Magenta. That’s practically an open declaration.”

She huffed, looking away, but her lips betrayed her with a tiny smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” you said, stepping a little closer, not wanting to push too much. “But that song is definitely about someone. I mean, I could see how someone might get the wrong idea with all that heartache in it.”

Magenta’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place—perhaps annoyance, perhaps embarrassment. “It’s not about anyone specific,” she muttered, but even as she said it, you could tell she didn’t quite believe it herself. “Just... inspiration.”

You chuckled, knowing full well that she was trying to brush it off, but it was clear from the way her fingers tapped nervously on the guitar that she was a little more rattled than she was letting on.

“Well, whatever it’s about, it’s a beautiful song,” you said, smiling genuinely this time. “But come on, it sounds like you’re secretly in love with someone. Or... at least have a crush.” You teased, nudging her shoulder lightly.

Her cheeks reddened again, and she shot you a glare. “I don’t have a crush on anyone, okay?” She said, voice slightly tight, though the amusement was still there in her eyes. “It’s just... a song. Not everything has to have a backstory.”

“Sure,” you said, holding her gaze, though you couldn’t help but push a little. “But it’s pretty obvious that you’ve got feelings for someone. It’s a lot of emotion packed into one song.”

Magenta shifted uncomfortably, clearly trying to laugh it off, but you could see it. That flicker of something. She liked someone. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want you to know about it.

You decided to drop the teasing for a moment, though the thought of her love life still hung there, unexplored. Instead, you let the moment sit in the air, both of you feeling the weight of it in silence. Magenta, with all her bravado, wasn’t as immune to vulnerability as she liked to act.

“Well,” you finally said, breaking the tension, “whether it’s about me or not, I still think it’s a great song. Really.”

She sighed, exhaling through her nose with a soft laugh. “You’re impossible,” she muttered again, but there was no malice in it this time. She was just... flustered.

And honestly, you found it endearing.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re definitely hiding something,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Magenta turned her head, pretending to ignore you as she picked her guitar back up. “Not everything needs to be about me, alright?”

You laughed, but there was something else there now, something more... serious, between the two of you. Magenta had a way of hiding her emotions behind that tough exterior, but you weren’t fooled. You weren’t sure what it was—maybe it was the song, maybe it was just being here together—but it felt like something had shifted.

Then, without warning, you decided to bring up something else entirely, something that had been weighing on your mind since you’d gotten here.

“So, there’s this girl,” you started, and even though you hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, it felt important to say. “Natty. My father wants me to... well, to marry her. It’s all part of some arrangement with Mr. Suputhipong.”

Magenta’s fingers stilled on the guitar strings, the air around you suddenly feeling heavier. She looked at you, disbelief flickering across her face before it quickly morphed into something more guarded. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, her gaze piercing through you like she was trying to make sense of your words.

“Marry? As in, marry, marry?” she finally asked, her voice flat, though there was a quiet tension in her tone that you couldn’t ignore.

You sighed, leaning back against the tree as the weight of the situation settled back on you. “Yeah, that’s what I said. I mean, it’s not definite yet, but with how my father operates... it’s probably gonna happen. My siblings are already being set up with other kids from Mr. Suputhipong’s family too. It’s all this whole arranged marriage thing. Mass marriage bullshit, really.”

Magenta’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might say something sharp or dismissive. Instead, she just let out a breath, looking at the ground as if she were weighing her words carefully. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, though—a mix of frustration, confusion, maybe even jealousy. It was there, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath. “So just like that, you’re supposed to be... what, married off to some stranger? All because your father says so?”

“Pretty much,” you said, trying to keep the tone light, but inside, it was anything but. “I don’t know. I don’t want it, but... it’s just the way things are going right now. It’s all about business and alliances and all that. My feelings don’t even come into play.”

Magenta shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something that looked almost... hurt? “And what about you? What about what you want?”

You hesitated, not really knowing how to answer that. How could you explain that you felt trapped, like your life was being decided for you? You wanted to fight it, but at the same time, what could you do against your family’s expectations?

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, trying to brush it off. “It’s just something I have to deal with. You know, family stuff.”

But Magenta was still staring at you, her eyes searching yours, as if she were trying to find some clue in the way you were talking, some hint of how you really felt. She bit her lip, frustration clearly simmering under the surface. And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, that defensiveness slipped away, replaced with something that almost looked like vulnerability.

“You’re... not serious about this, right?” she asked, voice quieter now, almost uncertain. “I mean, you don’t actually want to marry her, do you?”

You felt your stomach churn at the question. There was something in Magenta’s voice—something fragile—that made you pause. For a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you standing in the clearing, everything else fading away.

“No,” you said quickly, trying to reassure her. “I don’t want to marry Natty. I don’t want any of this, Magenta. It’s just... expected. You know how it is with my family. But I’d never just go along with it. I don’t want a life like that.”

Magenta’s eyes softened, but there was still a shadow of uncertainty there. She crossed her arms, her gaze flickering away from you as if she were trying to collect herself. “So... you’re saying, if you could choose—” She hesitated, as if the question was harder than it should’ve been to ask. “You wouldn’t marry her? Not if you had the choice?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Of course not. I don’t even know her, Magenta. I don’t want to marry someone just because my father says it’s a good idea. I’ve got... other things I want. And if it were up to me, I wouldn’t go through with any of it.”

Magenta took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if trying to process everything. Then, after a long pause, she looked at you again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then what do you want?”

‘You.’ You opened your mouth to speak, but for a moment, the words didn’t come. There was something in the air between you, something unspoken that made the moment feel bigger than it was. You didn’t know what you wanted, not entirely—but in this moment, with Magenta standing so close, you had a pretty good idea.

“I want...” you started, then paused, considering how to put it into words. “I want to be in control of my own life, Magenta. I want to make my own choices, not just follow what other people think is best for me. And right now, that means I don’t want to marry Natty. I don’t want to marry anyone unless I really choose to.”

Magenta’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, she just nodded, her arms still crossed as she looked down at the ground. Her expression was harder to read now, a mix of relief and something else—something more subtle that you couldn’t place.

“Well,” she said quietly, “I’m glad to hear that. I just... I don’t like the idea of you being stuck with someone you don’t care about.” She shifted, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “And I definitely don’t like the idea of you marrying some stranger.”

You took a small step closer, your voice soft. “I promise that I’ll do what I can.”

Magenta finally met your gaze, the tension in her expression easing just a little. “Good,” she said, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. “I mean... if anyone’s going to marry you, it better be someone who actually matters, right? Someone good with the guitar at least.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the way she said it, the mix of playfulness and something deeper that made your heart flutter just a little.

“Right,” you said, your voice light, but underneath it, you both knew there was more to it than just words.

Winter

The winter wind cut sharp, carrying whispers from the upper levels down to where the air always seemed a little heavier, a little colder. Magenta had heard the news—everyone had. Mr. Suputhipong, the head of S2, had announced a new round of transport capsules bound for Mars, seats reserved for his family and their extended network.

Magenta hadn’t cared at first. Space travel was a rich person’s game, nothing to do with her. But then someone had mentioned the list, rattling off names like they were celebrities. One name had stopped her cold.

Natty.

Magenta’s fingers froze over the guitar strings, the name ringing in her ears. You’d mentioned her not too long ago, but it made sense now, all the talk about marriage alliances, the quiet weight in your voice when you’d brought it up. This wasn’t just a rumor. It was real. You were leaving.

You were going to Mars.

You were leaving her.

Magenta let out a low grunt as she slumped back against the gnarled tree. The bark pressed into her spine, grounding her even as her thoughts spun out of control. Her fingers moved again, plucking lazy, dissonant notes from her guitar, but her mind stayed stuck, clouded, frantic.

She couldn’t let you go. That much was clear. But how could she stop you? How could she even begin to ask you to stay? Her mind raced, sifting through excuses, schemes, anything to keep you here, on this Earth, in this moment with her.

But for all her sharp wit, for all the teasing comebacks she always had ready, Magenta couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

She shouldn’t ask. It was selfish. Even by the standards of the upper levels, Mars was the closest thing to heaven. To deny it was stupid, and as much as she’d tease you and prod you for the slight bursts of stupidity that she often found more endearing than anything, you had to jump at any chance to go to Mars. Even if it meant leaving important things here back on Earth, it only made sense to leave. What would you most mind leaving on earth? Magenta wondered if she made the list.

You hadn’t mentioned it to her, this move to Mars, not once. All winter, she’d been waiting for some small hint, some casual drop of your plans. But it never came. A tiny, bitter part of her wondered if you’d ever planned to tell her. Maybe you were just going to disappear, leaving her sitting here under the wish tree, strumming her guitar and waiting for someone who was never coming back.

She glanced down at the scratched notebook in her lap. Her new song, Wish Tree, stared back at her, the ink still fresh, the lyrics mocking her now. It had come to her on the same wind that had carried the news, and she’d written it in a rare moment of hopefulness, her fingers moving faster than her doubts.

Her songs had always leaned melancholy, romantic with an edge of longing, but this one was different. Wish Tree was a hopeful ode, a soft prayer for staying together, for finding a way through the chaos. And now, just as it had started to sprout, the news had come, ready to uproot everything.

Magenta closed the notebook and leaned her head back against the tree, exhaling a shaky breath. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d written about wishes, but she hadn’t made one. Not yet.

She wondered if she’d waited too long.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the familiar crunch of your boots on the soft mud.

“I’m early! Right?” You asked with an almost joking tone.

Magenta smirked, a quick, automatic reflex, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Depends what you mean by ‘early,’” she said, her fingers idly strumming a chord. “You missed the winter solstice, but I guess you’re on time for… Tuesday.”

You grinned, hands shoved deep into your jacket pockets, the wind making a mess of your hair. “Guess I’ll take that as a win.”

Magenta’s gaze drifted back to the guitar strings. She didn’t know why her hands were still moving, picking out a quiet, aimless melody, but it felt safer to look at the guitar than at you. “I wrote something,” she said, almost too casually, like she wasn’t sure the words should leave her mouth.

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your face. “Yeah?”

She nodded, brushing her thumb over the strings, the sound soft and tentative. “It’s not finished,” she added quickly. “Probably needs, like… a bridge. Or a chorus that doesn’t sound like a bad diary entry. But I—” She hesitated, her usual teasing confidence faltering just enough to make you take a step closer. “I could play it for you. If you want.”

Your smile softened. “Of course I want to hear it.”

As Magenta began to strum, the light breeze carrying her harmonies, your mind began to whir. The song was hopeful, uncharacteristically hopeful for Magenta’s music. Did she really not know? Not heard about the new capsules? You had been pondering for weeks on how to properly tell her, but now, sat in front of her, mesmerised by her symphonies as you gazed into her eyes, you wondered if it would be better to give it all up. Attempt to run from your family, gargantuan task as it is, risky too, but if there was anyone you’d do it for…

“Did you like it?” Magenta’s voice pulled you out of your reverie. 

“Of course I liked it, Magenta. It was exquisite, just like you.” You almost whispered the last words, catching Magenta’s gaze.

You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing just a few feet away. “It’s perfect,” you said, your voice quiet, almost reverent.

Magenta’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, brushing her hair back from her face like she could shrug off the compliment. “You always say that. You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, grinning slightly. “But I mean it.”

The silence stretched, the winter wind tugging at the edges of it, neither of you quite ready to fill it.

And then, so softly it was almost lost to the breeze, she asked, “When were you going to tell me?”

Her voice was quiet, almost steady, but she wouldn’t look at you.

“Tell you about what?” Magenta was right, you really were stupid.

“The Capsules. News travels down here too, you know.” Magenta replied, scoffing, her mood clearly having taken a turn for the worse.

“I…I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I was-” You tried to explain, but Magenta quickly turned toward you, glaring at you.

“You were what? Going to Mars? Leaving without a word or even a goodbye?” Magenta challenged as she stepped closer to you, almost cornering you into the cherry tree.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to go.”

Magenta didn’t move at first. Her eyes were locked on yours, disbelief rippling through her like a wave about to crash. Then she laughed, sharp and humorless, the sound cutting through the cold air like broken glass.

“You’re not sure if you’re going to go,” she said, her voice dripping with incredulity. “Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?”

“Magenta—”

“No, don’t ‘Magenta’ me,” she snapped, stepping closer, her words coming fast and fiery now. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying? You’re telling me you’d give up Mars—Heaven, for God’s sake—for me?”

“Yes!” you said, the word bursting out of you like it had been trapped inside too long. “Yes, Magenta, for you. I—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice rising. “You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to stand here, under this stupid tree, and act like I’m worth that. I’m not.”

“Stop,” you said, trying to close the gap between you, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“No, you stop,” she said, her tone sharp and cutting. “Do you even hear yourself? Mars isn’t a vacation. It’s a whole new life. A better life. And you’re telling me you’d throw that away for what? For me? For some girl who spends her days sitting under a tree and writing songs no one even hears?”

“I hear them,” you said quietly.

Her mouth opened, then closed, her breath hitching for just a moment before she threw up her hands. “Well, great. One audience member. Guess that makes me worth uprooting your entire future.”

“Magenta,” you said again, your voice softer now, pleading. “I don’t care about Mars. I care about you. You’re worth it. Can’t you see that?”

Her eyes burned as she stared at you, her jaw tightening. “No. No, I can’t, because it’s not true.”

“It is—”

“Stop!” she yelled, and the force of it made you freeze. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her voice trembling now, even as she tried to keep it steady. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re just—you’re just trying to make this easier for me, and it’s not. It’s not easier.”

“I’m not—”

“You are!” she cut you off, her voice cracking at the edges. She sucked in a shaky breath, her anger slipping for just a moment, just long enough for you to catch a glimpse of the hurt underneath. “You think this is what I want? You staying here, wasting your chance, looking at me like I’m worth more than heaven?”

“You are,” you said firmly.

She laughed again, bitter and cold, and it broke something in you to hear it. “God, you’re so stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head. Her voice dropped, quieter now but no less sharp. “You’re going to regret this. Maybe not right away, but someday. You’ll look at me, and you’ll see all the things I can’t be, all the things Mars could’ve given you, and you’ll hate me for it. And I can’t—I won’t let that happen.”

“Magenta—”

“Just go,” she said, cutting you off one last time, her voice tight, her eyes refusing to meet yours. “Go to Mars. Forget about me. It’s better that way.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening, words piling up in your throat that you couldn’t force out. She stood there, arms crossed over her chest like she was holding herself together, her jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt. 

You turned and walked away, your footsteps crunching against the frozen ground, the distance between you growing with each step.

You didn’t see her crumble the second you were out of sight. Didn’t see her drop to her knees under the gnarled branches of the tree, her hands clutching the cold earth like it could anchor her to something, anything.

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking, her breath coming in broken gasps. She did the right thing. It had to be the right thing. Or else, that would mean…mean that she ruined the only thing she ever really loved.

She pulled herself up from the ground, dragging herself onto the tree that had been your meetup point for so long. Your cherry tree, your Wish Tree. 

Spring

(Imagine the pre chorus but slowed down and sang through sobs)

It had been a year—a whole, impossibly short, impossibly long year—since you appeared out of nowhere, stumbling into her life like some cosmic accident. A stranger, in a place where strangers didn’t just happen. A year since she’d looked up from her guitar, startled by the sound of boots squelching through the muddy ground, and seen you standing there, impossibly wrong and yet somehow exactly right. Like you’d been meant to find the cracks she hadn’t even realized were there.

She’d told herself she wasn’t counting. Not really. But she knew. Knew it had been exactly one year since you wandered into her orbit and tilted everything, just enough to let the light in.

Now, lying beneath the gnarled branches of the cherry tree that had become yours—not hers, not yours, but yours, together—Magenta couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. About the capsules.

The capsules.

Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep the image out. It didn’t work. Her fingers dug into the damp grass beneath her as though holding on tight could somehow stop the inevitable. She didn’t want to see it—the sleek, gleaming capsules with their yawning doors, ready to whisk you away. To lift you up, out, beyond. Somewhere she couldn’t follow. Somewhere she wasn’t sure she could even imagine.

She should be happy for you. That was what she told herself, again and again, the words looping endlessly through her head like a melody she couldn’t escape. This was what you’d been waiting for. The chance to leave, to start over, to escape the heaviness of this place. To find something better.

It was what she deserved, wasn’t it? She’d told you to go. Pushed you to go, her voice steady even when it felt like the weight of it might break her in half. She’d told you she couldn’t be the reason you stayed, couldn’t let you throw away a shot at something brighter, something easier, just because she wasn’t brave enough to let you go.

But lying there, staring up at the branches shifting against the pale winter sky, Magenta felt the truth settle deep in her chest, heavy and sharp-edged. She wasn’t noble. She wasn’t selfless. All she wanted, in the quietest, most desperate part of her heart, was for you to stay.

And then it came. That low, growing hum, the sound that swallowed everything else. The capsules, rising in the distance, their engines roaring as they tore away from the earth and into the sky. Magenta’s breath hitched as she watched them climb, higher and higher, until they were nothing but a distant speck. Until they were gone.

Her hands found the guitar beside her, her fingers brushing against the strings like muscle memory. It felt wrong to play it now, cruel, even. The song she’d been playing the day you first appeared. What had once been the beginning of everything now felt like a cruel epilogue to what she’d lost.

Still, the melody spilled out of her, her voice soft and trembling: We are revolving because we can’t meet

We are like parallel lines

If I could run through time and become an adult

I will hold your hand in this cruel world

We aren’t closing in, that one tiny bit

We are like parallel lines.

When the last note faded, Magenta folded forward, her body curling into itself as the tears came, hot and unrelenting. She pressed her forehead against the guitar, her shoulders shaking, her breath coming in broken gasps.

And then, softly, the words she’d never expected to hear again, carried on the breeze like an impossible dream:

“Would it be too much to ask for an encore?”

Her head jerked up, her breath catching. And there you were, standing beneath the cherry tree, the same tree where it had all begun. Your face was sheepish, almost apologetic, as you took a slow step toward her, then another.

Magenta blinked, her tears blurring the edges of you, but there was no mistaking it. You were here.

Before she could stop herself, she was on her feet, her fists against your chest, her sobs spilling over as the words tore out of her.

“Why didn’t you go?” she shouted, her voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “You could’ve had it all! You could’ve gone to the closest thing to heaven, and you stayed—for what? For me?”

Your hands found her shoulders, steady and warm, and when she didn’t pull away, you pulled her closer, wrapping her into the kind of hug that felt like it could hold her together, even as she fell apart.

You pressed a kiss to her forehead, soft and lingering, and when you spoke, your voice was quiet, like a secret meant only for her.

“Oh, my love,” you murmured. “What’s heaven got that beats a picnic in spring, just you and me?”

[hotpinkboots]

~~~~~

"The Rocky Horror Picture Show" + "Shock Treatment" Fanfiction Masterlist

Yandere!Dr. Frank-N-Furter

Yandere!Riff Raff & Yandere!Magenta

Magenta Comforting Her Girlfriend

Magenta Finding The Reader Wearing Her Clothes

"Sleeping Beauty" (Magenta x Reader)

"Late Night Lovers" (Magenta x Reader)

Nothing here, yet! Throw in some Shock Treatment requests!

[cinnbar-bun]

Bad Romance (Various Valentine's Guards x Reader)

Characters: Blackmore, Magenta Magenta, Mike O., Ringo Roadagain, Wekapipo

Prompt: "I want your love, and I want your revenge / You and me could write a bad romance."

Summary: These men faithfully serve your father, Funny Valentine, but what can they do when their heart craves to be known to you as more than just your bodyguard?

Rating: NSFW I have no excuse for this.

Notes: parts SFW mixed with some NSFW hcs. I think maybe Wekapipo's is a bit mean but nrjkgnjrg. GN!reader, no parts mentioned, Reader is Funny Valentine's child. Also sorry I call him Magenta Magenta lmk for next time if I should just use Magent Magent.

Word Count: ~3.5k

Tagging: @bruabbina (bestieeee come get some Ringo food!!!) @uminozerol (I don't know if you wanted to be tagged but as you are the resident Blackmore lover and FV enjoyer in my life I think you deserve some Blackmore food)

Blackmore 

Blackmore has always been loyal to the Valentine family since he was hired, especially to the president himself. 

Blackmore believes the Valentine family to be the most ‘worthy’ family ever, with Funny as the head and you, his child, as a worthy and divine successor. You are something unearthly that Blackmore cannot comprehend. 

Normally, he isn’t always the first bodyguard assigned to you, but occasionally, Funny orders him to or you personally request him. Blackmore can’t help but feel elated when you do so, choosing him to escort you around on your daily activities. It makes him feel wonderful knowing that someone as magnificent and beautiful as you allows him within your presence. 

He takes his job of protecting you seriously, quietly removing any potential threat (no matter how minor) as to not disturb you. He hates the idea of you having to witness the things he must do to protect you, nor does he want you to be exposed to the darker parts of the world. 

At first he assumed the way his heart was pounding around you was due to his loyalty and eagerness to show he was useful to the family. However, it became pretty clear to him after a while the emotions he felt for you were far different from the loyalty he felt for your father. 

He’d never want to act on these feelings, instead choosing to continue serving you in silence, eagerly carrying out any and all orders you may have. 

He keeps himself calm around you, never allowing his voice to raise or his breath to quicken in your presence. You deserve much better than him yearning for you in such a display. 

Yet, occasionally, you will linger your hands near his whenever he is escorting you in the rain, claiming that you just want to stay under his umbrella. Blackmore is confused, since the umbrella is clearly large enough for the both of you to stay comfortably under (he made sure of it himself). 

Then you demand his presence more and more, even beyond things like needing an escort for going outside. He complies nonetheless, as serving you is his biggest honor. 

But you… you’re too much, sometimes. You know how protective your father is of you, yet you deign to be more casual with Blackmore like he is your equal. Blackmore is flustered by such a notion, but he doesn’t want to act on it, refusing to cause you shame. 

And then you corner him one day, but yet he does not mind. 

“‘Scuse me… we must be getting back to the White House, soon,” he reminds you. But you insist, practically begging for him to touch you. 

The way you whisper in his ears makes him want to throw his whole life away in order to serve you eternally. What could be more grand, more holy, than caring and serving you, the most glorious existence in this world? 

He lets you take charge, offers himself as a sacrifice to you as you say you want to ‘thank’ him for all his hard work and loyal service to your family. Your lips and hands on his body feel divine, and he thinks he has passed away from the way you touch him. 

He shouldn’t really be doing this, he argues. “What would your father think? He asks me to protect you, not… aaa… desecrate you…” 

But soon, he can’t help himself, finding himself touching you back and devoting himself to making sure you feel just as much pleasure as you do. In fact, he gets greedy, especially with the way he kisses you so frantically while the rain is pouring outside. 

“Such a perfect thing… you deserve to be worshipped, from this world, to the next.” 

Magenta Magenta 

A bodyguard who already acts far too casual for his standing with you. While your father appreciated Magenta’s work, Magenta’s attitude had often made him hesitate to pair the unprofessional man with you. 

But, honestly, how could you resist him? Every ‘good morning’ he said to you was loud and proud, as if this particular morning was the best one yet. Poor pick-up lines, bad puns, and silly little magic tricks would occur soon after, making you laugh at his behavior. 

“You know, you’re the only who has a sense of humor here,” he says while juggling some ice casually. “The others are so boring and act like they’re all better than me, or something.” 

He finds your laugh wonderful, wanting to hear it almost every day as he comes up with new material to tell you. Being the president’s kid in this strict White House has got to be boring, so he takes it upon himself to not only protect you, but to entertain you. It gives him more opportunities to not only make you smile, but to also talk with someone who doesn’t find him annoying. 

Magenta is not subtle at all with his feelings for you. He’ll pull out roses he picked from the White House lawn (he almost got chased by the gardener) and casually hand them to you, playing up the act of a suave gentleman. He’s not even afraid to flirt with you in front of the others, something Wekapipo smacks and reprimands him for. 

“Tch, he’s just jealous of what we got.” 

Magenta isn’t too scared of what Valentine thinks, mostly concerned about your happiness here. He’ll often suggest sneaking out of parties under the guise of ‘getting some fresh air’ so you two can hang out privately away from the highbrow guests. 

While you were more proper before, thanks to Magenta’s casual behavior, you shed your overly polite ways and relax around him more. 

And… well, you certainly become more bold around him. You talk of wanting to run away with him and the both of you enjoying the world by yourselves. He adds that you two should get a plane and fly it across the globe. 

You lean in closer to him, far too close for any bodyguard to be around their ward. He leans in closer, not minding the distance at all. 

He’s made it no secret he’s attracted to you, and seeing you try to get closer to him without telling him your feelings gets him excited. 

“Tryna get me killed by your dear daddy, darling? You know I’m not allowed to make the first move for you. I don’t wanna look like the bad guy or something.” 

Once you finally make the first move, then he’s all in and all over you. 

He’s not a refined gentleman, not in the slightest, as he’s just focused on grinding against you and kissing you all over. He just touches and squeezes wherever he can from you. 

It’s sloppy, it’s messy, but it’s passionate. All the love and tension you two had between each other since he began serving you comes out in full swing. 

Do note, Magenta is a loud man. This fool forgets he isn’t supposed to be having sex with his boss’s kid, and often just gets loud and whiny in your ear. He does continue to make jokes during the act, but majority of it is praising how wonderful you feel or how pent up he is. 

After the first time you did it, he’s gonna be wanting it more and more, and he’s going to try and get you two to sneak away for a bit so he can fuck the proper mask right off of you. 

“There, much better, huh? Don’t worry, I know those high and mighty assholes bore you to death. So let’s have some fun, you and me!” 

Mike O. 

If you thought Blackmore was holding himself back, Mike O. takes the cake. 

Mike is your father’s personal bodyguard, and Mike takes pride in his job. Hell, the fact Funny allows him to guard you and trusts him with you the most should be seen as the highest honor for anyone. 

So why can’t he just keep it like a job and not want to hold you? 

He was simply trying to do his job and make sure everything was in tip-top shape for you, yet the more he learned about you, the more he fell for you. 

He’s dedicated beyond belief, especially to you. If any staff even messes up something miniscule for you, he lectures them and gives them a warning, perhaps even having another staff member care for you. If a person outside the staff bothers your threatens harm, if he doesn’t personally take care of it in the case of an emergency, he’ll head to your father and ask for permission to do something about it. 

“My president… these men have been giving them a hard time. Permission to execute them? Or shall I make them simply regret having crossed the Valentine’s?” 

He does find your more relaxed and easy-going nature pleasant compared to your father’s stern and secretive behavior. You may insist on treating him like an equal or being friendlier to him, but Mike doesn’t want to cross into even more unprofessional territory and will respond stoically. 

He shows his care for you through physical acts of service, as that can’t be misconstrued too easily as an admission of his feelings for you. His face remains completely cold and serious, always on the lookout and always searching for any potential threats. But he makes sure your tea is the perfect temperature for you, or opens the window to let in the right amount of sunlight that you enjoy. Subtle things that none can trace back as him wanting to be more than your bodyguard. 

He would like more than anything to be able to be upfront with you and shower you in affection and love that you deserve. He sees the way potential suitors behave around you, and while he silences his envy in order to keep watch, he will never stop you from pursuing them if you choose to. He gives his honest opinions when you ask for them, never letting it slip that he hates them and wishes they’d just leave. He makes detailed files and potential pros and cons for them, never deluding himself into thinking he has a chance with you. Staying by your side is all he will allow himself to do. 

For god’s sake, you’re the president’s child. A mere bodyguard like him should not be anywhere close to you like that romantically. It’s simply wrong. He beats it into his brain over and over so he doesn’t reveal how admittedly relieved he is when you reject another potential suitor. 

He does wonder why you reject them all, even ones that seem like perfect fits, but he’ll never give himself the hope that it’s because you perhaps like him back. Even if you stare at him too long or ask for his help for everything or request his presence too much, it surely cannot be that. 

But you can’t resist him, and when you call for him one night to your room, you finally release the feelings you’ve kept lock and key. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. It would be inappropriate. I am just a bodyguard and-” his rather poor argument falls apart when you tell him he’s more than just a bodyguard, but your most trusted companion and the man you truly love. 

Something within him snaps, but he still tries to remain cool and collected. You kiss him gently and all restraints within him break. For so long he’s desired it, knowing this would surely get him killed by Funny’s hands. 

He’s a gentle but passionate lover. His hands move with a grace and fluidity of a man who knows exactly what needs to be done. As if he knows exactly what you need from him at that moment. 

Not to brag, but his fingers are truly wonderful and can easily bring you on your knees. His hands are amazing. 

He doesn’t talk much during this tryst, merely exhaling into your ear and asking if you are feeling good. 

“Ah… there is no greater feeling than your body in mine. Let me lead you to a world of pleasure, my ward.” 

Ringo Roadagain 

Although polite and caring for your safety, Ringo does not admire your presence at first. Labeling you a ‘conformist’ in his mind, one who simply does as told, who lives in the shadow of your father’s, he writes you off as perhaps another spoiled and coddled person. 

However, you see his skill with a gun and his general attitude, and you beg him to teach you how to shoot or defend yourself. He doesn’t mind teaching you, but he wonders if you are actually serious enough about it. 

You are determined, even if you’re not the best, and he begins sensing an inkling of that ‘spirit’ within you. It makes him wonder if you are able to surpass the expectations of others and become something greater than you’ve ever imagined. 

He doesn’t tell you this, not wanting to be too inappropriate with you, but he hopes you can surpass the others and be the one to kill him and complete his spirit. 

After these many training sessions, he does reveal more of his own self and gentlemanly behavior. You are of higher status than him, but he will not treat you like a porcelain object. He expects you to stand strong for yourself as well, lest everything you’ve learned be for nothing. 

The feelings he has for you are not something he is ashamed of nor does he deny. It just is. And it takes a real man to acknowledge them head on and do something about it. 

His mentality on fairness makes him believe he should not be the one to monopolize your time only. He’ll back off when the other men guard you, as he is not possessive or overbearing towards you. You are your own person, and he will not allow himself to overstep your boundaries. 

Ringo is often the one appointed to handle you and any potential suitors, given his nonchalance and calm behavior. Again, he doesn’t think much of that, given you’re your own person, but he has to admit that these ‘boys’ who try and talk to you are a ridiculous bunch. 

Ringo isn’t a fool, though, and notices when you are being cheeky or trying to get his attention. It’s not his place to mention it head on, but he does know how you feel. 

But you never seem to confess it to him straight, so eventually, when you two are alone and you again try to seem innocent in your flirting, he gives you a serious expression. 

“Darling, you’ve got to make up your mind and say what you want with your whole chest.” 

The shocked expression on your face makes him chuckle in amusement, but he continues. “You’ve been acting coy for so long around me. I’m surprised your father hasn’t noticed such brazen behavior from you. But if you want to pursue me in a real relationship, you must be honest.” 

Honesty is the best policy, and it doesn’t take long before you’re on top of him. Ringo admittedly enjoys the thrill of being with you, as it gives him a high that he cannot replicate elsewhere. 

He encourages you in that low voice to make some noise and let him know how he’s doing. He’s not particularly concerned about whether or not Funny catches him or knows. He gets you and a possible battle, both of which spur him on more. 

Skilled and methodical. He is not a hungry beast, but it’s as if it’s his life’s mission to get you to scream his name and leave you a heaving mess on the floor. 

When you two are finally finished for the night, he makes sure to clean you up and take care of your sore body. But he can’t help himself and leans in to you, quietly whispering into your ear-

“Welcome, darling, to the world of ‘men’.” 

Wekapipo

The opposite of practically all these men. He keeps it strictly professional. Does not talk to you. Does not humor you. Does nothing but what Funny asks. 

He doesn’t have much else to care for in this life, so he’s just trying to do his job. But you complicate everything. You insist on being a pest and doing almost anything other than what your father wants. He sighs often with you. 

Truthfully, you aren’t that bad, but he’s a closed-off man who just wants to live peacefully. Any time you try to casually ask him a question or chat with him makes him act unamused and remind you he is just a guard. Not your friend. 

“Please do remember that your father has hired me to keep watch of you. It would be unwise of you to attempt to get close to me, when we have such a difference in title.” 

Doesn’t stop you from trying, though, which only frustrates him to no end. 

Not to mention, for some god forsaken reason, you always keep attempting to be friendlier with him and ‘reward’ him for his service. 

“Why are you giving me this? Do you understand that I am simply just doing my job? I did not take this just for a chance at your gifts. I know my place. You should know yours, too.” 

He doesn’t know what to do with the amount of stuff you’ve attempted to give him or insist on doing for him, despite being your guard. He just sighs and leaves it in his room and complain aloud about while internally thinking it’s nice you chose them for him. 

Yeah, he’s crashing hard. Although now, you annoy him not because he finds you a nuisance of a ward, but because of how burdensome these feelings are for you. He just wants to get paid and go home, and wanting to have his boss’s child as a romantic partner isn’t exactly in line with that idea. 

So he quells it and continues, acting as he usually does- stern, cold, detached, and even more done with your behavior. He feels that if he acts more serious that these pesky feelings will die off and reveal themselves to be nothing more than childish delusions he imagined. 

Except it does the complete opposite, where him pulling away makes you come closer, and it makes his heart beat out of his chest knowing how much you care despite him being… well… Wekapipo to you. 

Wekapipo denies any and all feelings for you if Magenta brings up how overbearing he is with you. He insists it’s just part of his duty and that he’s doing his job correctly. 

Despite his aloofness… he is quite the jealous and possessive man. He hates others getting close to you or wanting to guard you. That’s his job, and if it was so easy that anyone could’ve done it, he would not have been specifically chosen to guard you. 

His frustration gets worse when you keep on teasing him or attempting to be coy. He knows what you’re pulling- he’s not an idiot, you know- and he has to hold back from telling you off and kissing your mouth shut. 

One day, after you tease him far too much, he pins you down and glares at you. “Have some decency, will you? Really, do you throw yourself at every other man like this? I doubt your father would like to know the stunts you’ve been pulling.” 

He lectures, but it’s clear by the way he’s shaking and can barely look you in the eyes just how flustered and angered he is by this. Yes, he wants you, he wants you a lot, damn it, but he can’t do this with you! 

And yet you always bring out the worst in him, making him throw caution to the wind as you embrace him and kiss him, making all his pent-up frustration come out. 

He doesn’t want to be rough, but admittedly, all this time pining for you while you two engage in this forbidden act makes him lose his mind and all restraints. He wants you, he wants you now, he wants you so bad it’s ridiculous and he cannot contain himself. 

He’s on you like a starved man, panting in your ear and cursing himself for falling victim to your charms. 

“Damn you… damn my foolishness. You’ll be the death of me! Making me want you like this, begging me to ruin you- you have no idea what you’ve just unleashed. I’ll make sure to set you straight!”

[daydream-believin]

got back home late and didn’t let go all night

[agaypanic]

tbh if you started writing for sky high 👀👀👀

zach and magenta <3333

-📖

bruh atp i might (but they would obvi be aged up. i forgot that most of the characters are supposed to be like 14😭)

everytime i start thirsting over a character, i feel like i might as well just start writing for them bc a lot of the time, nobody else is. or if there are fics for the character, they’re either really old or have the vibe of being written by ten year olds😔

[uravitypng]

tentacle monster tamaki amajiki x (chubby) reader

KINKTOBER: tentacles (obviously)

word count: 400+ words / mdni ! +18 i've been ill for the last few days and it suuckkss so i haven't wrote as much as i wanted too :(

"tama' feel s' good!" you slur your words, holding onto your boyfriend for dear life after you've slipped from the safety of the rock you where perching on.

his indigo hair was tickling your face and neck as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, face red and whimpering, his large cock constantly hitting that spongy spot inside of you, making you both lose your mind. your pussy feels so warm wrapped around him that he can't help but pull your soft body even closer to him.

"y-you feel s' good t-too bunny." his breath against your skin making you shiver. "are you cold bunny?" he asked concerned as he sees you shiver and you do your best to shake your head.

"no, no 'm okay," you wrap your arms around him even tighter and lull your head against his shoulder. amajiki takes a deep breath as your head brushes against his sensitive pointy ear and his thrusts increase in pace.

"that's g-good pretty," he says in reply.

the suckers of his tentacles were all over your body, two of them focusing on your nipples pulling them and making you whine loudly. you buck your full hips up against his trying to match his movements unsuccessfully, consumed by overstimulation.

amajiki's letting you have control of your arms while you circle your arms around his neck but he's pulling your legs apart, a tentacle on each ankle as he opens them wide, each trust into you makes your body jiggle, causing more precum to leak into you with every bounce adoring the way you look on his cock.

one of his tentacles moves against your ass, playing with your opening but not entering. the two that are on your nipples suctioning harder and harder making you scratch his back, unaware of what you're doing too caught up in the pleasure you're receiving.

tamaki feels your walls spam around him and knows you're close so he focuses on your clit. he uses one of his dark magenta tentacles to rub around your clit, brushing against you and making you squirm before switching to sucking in time with his two other tentacles that are focusing on your breasts. you come soon after that, screaming loudly as you do and luckily you're so far away from any humans that no one will hear the scream that came from you, tamaki twitches in you and both of you know that he'll follow you, unloading in you, with a small cry.

[adieutristana]

aftercare headcanons; arcane women x fem! reader

dipping my toes into nsfw stuff… i doubt i’ll ever write anything about the act of sex itself but i thought this would be sweet

summary; headcanons of what aftercare would be like with arcane women and fem! reader.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn.

tags/warnings; fluff, no explicit nsfw, but VERY suggestive, praise, mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, mentions of poor mental health

men and minors dni.

jinx;

✧.* jinx is very energetic somehow. several rounds, and she’s still bouncing off the walls? of course, she’s breathless and flushed, droplets of sweat on her body, but she’s somehow just as chaotic as ever. it’s like nothing changed. also very giggly. sex gives her a rush, and she’s feeling the effects of that especially after the fact.

✧.* a tease. she’ll tell you how good you did for her, how much she loved hearing those pretty sounds you made, but she didn’t know you were that desperate. or how you were so quick to give into her bratty tendencies, indulging her with just one look of those shimmering magenta eyes. the way she begged and teased you and commanded you even while submissive doing unimaginable things to you. you couldn’t help yourself, could you?

✧.* “am i just that irresistible, huh, toots? it didn’t take much to rile you up.”

✧.* incredibly touchy. it’s no secret that jinx loves the physical contact, she needs to be somehow touching you at all times. it gives her a sense of peace, knowing you’re there and you’re real and you love her. in several ways, you serve as jinx’s sanctuary without even meaning to.

✧.* so during aftercare, she’s clinging to you, brushing stray strands of hair out of your face, pressing warm kisses to your lips, tangling your limbs as she holds you from behind, resting her head on your shoulder. taking you into her lap and holding you impossibly close to her chest as she whispers sweet nothings to you.

✧.* you’re gonna have to redo her braids. they’re a right mess after your activities, and while jinx isn’t particularly bothered by that, she’ll pretend she is. secretly, she just loves the feelings of your hands on her scalp, fingers carefully combing through her locks and braiding it.

✧.* no doubt you’re left with several bite marks and hickeys afterward. on your neck, collarbones, chest, inner thighs… sitting there and admiring her work as you’re laid beside her. just admiring her masterpiece, she says.

✧.* “what, you fancy yourself some sort of artist?” you’d tease.

✧.* “the best damn artist there is.”

✧.* even though she’s super energetic, i do think jinx would like being doted on during aftercare. run her a warm bath (she’ll demand you get in, though), get her a glass of water, maybe even make her something to eat. she won’t verbalize it, but her soft smile will make it clear that jinx appreciates it.

✧.* strangely chatty as well. jinx loves talking to you, that’s not out of the ordinary. but during aftercare, she just wants to talk, and talk, and talk. praise you, and praise you, and praise you.

vi;

✧.* out like a damn light. it takes a lot out of vi, so she’ll be able to manage staying awake for a few minutes maximum. holding you in her arms, laying her head on your lap- either way, she falls asleep rather quickly.

✧.* on the odd occasion that vi isn’t tired after your activities, she’ll pull you into her lap and just… stare at you. admire you. it may sound weird, but vi is just incredibly glad to have you. she considers herself lucky. she just wants to look at you.

✧.* “don’t mind me, baby. you’re just so damn pretty.”

✧.* one or both of you is sore after the fact. run vi a bath when she wakes up, maybe with some epsom salt. she might grumble about getting in, claiming she doesn’t need to be taken care of, but seeing her muscles relax as she eases into the warm water tells you everything you need to know.

✧.* if it’s you who’s sore, vi has methods for treating that. being a fighter, someone with strength like she does, she’s pulled many muscles in her life. she’s got a muscle relaxing cream, ice, hell, she’ll (try to) give you a massage. anything to make you feel better. she does worry, after all.

✧.* you’re marked to hell and back. vi just adores seeing proof of her love on your body. however, she’ll be a bit embarrassed if you go out in public with them. in her mind, those marks are for her eyes only. queue vi tossing you a turtleneck or a scarf, or asking if you could try to cover it with makeup.

✧.* holds you close to her while she sleeps. vi needs that feeling of security and the reassurance, she always says that she sleeps better when you’re with her. her slow breaths against your bare chest, sturdy arms wrapping around your waist, grumbling softly in her sleep about… something. you can’t quite make it out.

✧.* “sleepy… you gonna hold me while i drift off?”

✧.* probably takes a swig or two out of a flask after the fact because i think vi would become a bit self-conscious afterward- not necessarily insecure, but more self-aware. if that makes sense

✧.* the morning after especially, vi is soooo so clingy. now that she’s fully awake and functioning she’s peppering kisses all over your face and neck, holding you close to her, telling you how amazing you were the night prior. how much she loves you.

✧.* will probably insist that you stay in bed so she can make you breakfast. she’s a surprisingly good cook, after having to fend for herself and her little sister at such a young age.

✧.* vi is just caring. she wants to be gentle to you after the fact.

mel;

✧.* the sweetest, most doting woman during aftercare. mel prefers things to be slow and sensual, to profess her love to you. aftercare is no different.

✧.* taking you into her lap or vice versa, putting her head in the crook of your neck, slow, lingering kisses that leave your head spinning, running her soft hands through your hair, little praises whispered into your skin as she kisses your face, your neck, your collarbones..

✧.* mel goes the entire nine yards to make sure that you feel taken care of. she’ll run a bath for you and even toss in flower petals. she’ll grab you water even if you don’t ask for it, she’ll ask you if you need anything- a towel, tea, a meal. even if you insist that you’re okay, mel will probably do almost all of those things for you. it’s just in her nature to want to help people, why would she not want to take care of her girlfriend?

✧.* “are you sure you don’t want me to brew some tea? you look tired, dearest.”

✧.* probably will want to read afterwards. she’ll have you snuggled in her lap or laying on her chest with her back slightly propped up, reading a novel in silence, basking in your presence. mel is focused, but it’s clear that your company makes all of the difference. she’ll read out loud to you if you ask her, but she thinks you’ll fall asleep if she does. (don’t worry if you do, she finds it cute)

✧.* mel is just so attentive. she never wants you to feel as if you aren’t loved by her and she’ll do absolutely anything you ask her for. she knows how tired you must be, and despite her own exhaustion, she’ll do whatever possible to help you wind down. she’ll open a window if you need fresh air, she’ll get you fresh blankets, help you straighten up your hair, anything.

✧.* probably lights a few candles if she didn’t already, before intimacy. her room always smells incredible.

✧.* doesn’t seem like the type to leave marks to me, she’d just tire you out and vice versa.

✧.* “just one more kiss, darling. oh, who am i kidding? plenty more.”

✧.* just whispering so many sweet nothings against your skin- your chest, your neck, anywhere. soft praises like, ‘you’re so beautiful, dearest,’ or ‘you’re incredible,’ things of that sort. her voice is smooth like honey and just as sweet.

✧.* at least you’re not too worn out. mel is merciful and won’t push you beyond your limits, much preferring the intimacy and slowness. taking her time with you and enjoying it for what it is, enjoying you for what you are. aftercare is arguably her favorite part.

sevika;

✧.* yeah… good luck walking after the fact. at the very least, sevika will make sure to get you anything you need. water, definitely. maybe cough drops to ease your throat. a towel, a little something to keep you fed. she doesn’t say much during these acts, but it’s clear that sevika cares and wants you to feel the best you can.

✧.* just very, very gentle towards you. after making sure you’ve got all your bases covered in terms of care, she’ll lay down next to you, lighting a cigar and humming. looking over at you every now and again, just admiring your face. her eyes filled with warmth and a slight smile playing at her lips, sevika absolutely adores you. gods, how did she get so lucky?

✧.* actually pretty clingy. sevika will ask that you let her spoon you, sit on her lap, rest your head on her chest as you listen to the soft thrumming of her heartbeat. something. it grounds her in the moment and a moment of stillness, away from the constant chaos and disorder of her day-to-day life. she really doesn’t care how sweaty you are or how messed up your hair or makeup or (what’s left of) your clothes, she just wants to be close to you.

✧.* “come on, pretty girl. you gonna leave me all by myself over here, hm?”

✧.* on the subject of having trouble walking, sevika does not want you to move off the bed, the couch, wherever. if you really need to get up to get something, she’ll get it for you. if you need a bath, she’ll run it and carry you, gently setting you down in the tub. your muscles will no doubt be sore in the morning and fatigue will take you, the last thing that sevika wants is for you to put your body through even more.

✧.* “relax, dove. i’ve got ya covered, just let me take care of you, okay?”

✧.* sevika does get pretty tired herself, but she’ll draw her energy out as long as possible to get a little more time with you. when sleep does take her, though, she’s clinging to you and she’s out. have fun waking her up in the morning.

✧.* smells of cigar smoke, maybe a bit of whiskey and of course, sweat. but it’s strangely charming. sevika has a way of making everything work, and it’s the way she’s so confident that makes you fall for her over and over again. maybe clean her up a bit, though.

✧.* she won’t admit it, but she will enjoy if you look after her at least a little bit. even if it’s just wiping her down with a towel or running your fingers through her dark hair while giving her sweet little compliments.

✧.* the morning after is slow, and she’ll undoubtedly be up later than you are. brew her a cup of coffee, maybe press your lips to her forehead delicately to wake her up. sevika will be more than appreciative.

caitlyn;

✧.* also very attentive. she does want to take care of herself, so she’ll get herself freshened up in the shower (and invite you in), make sure she’ll be somewhat presentable in the morning. but she also does want to take care of you. she’ll be so clingy. brushing your neck and jawline and cheeks with plush lips, humming into your skin.

✧.* probably not very talkative. the silence isn’t awkward or tense, instead it’s comfortable. caitlyn will let her actions speak for her instead of speaking, although she does make sure to give a few gentle compliments to you.

✧.* “you did so well, you know that? yeah, absolutely amazing, darling.”

✧.* caitlyn probably put on a record before taking you, crackling, soft music filling the room during and after. it’s relaxing to her, being able to relax to music and enjoy your presence while you’re cuddled up next to her. staring into lapis eyes, smiling so softly. it brings caitlyn both tranquility and joy simultaneously, something she didn’t know she could feel before meeting you.

✧.* please brush through caitlyn’s hair, maybe even massage her scalp a little or wash her hair. she will positively melt under your touch, tense shoulders dropping and a sigh escaping her.

✧.* very smiley afterward. not a cheesy grin or full, toothy smile, but just something soft. you can tell just how content she is by one look at her face, especially while she’s looking at you. coming to cup your cheek and run the pad of her thumb over it, the corners of her lips tugging upwards.

✧.* caitlyn waits until you’re asleep to go to sleep herself. whether that be you in her arms, her in your arms, she doesn’t have a preference. caitlyn just wants to know that you’re okay, you’re resting well before she indulges herself in the same thing. yes, she does want to take care of her own needs, but she’s particular about this.

✧.* doesn’t matter how late it gets or how tired she is, she’ll force herself awake. probably not a healthy choice, but it’s what she does.

✧.* although i said she wouldn’t be very talkative during aftercare, she probably will whisper to you while you sleep. maybe the fact that you’re at peace is what prompts her to do it, maybe it’s that you look so damn cute.

✧.* “tired you out, did i? mm… that’s okay. i like having you like this, honestly.”

[sttoru]

Aventurine with a virgin reader </3 guiding her and moving slowly and gently as he always gives her praises 🥹

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. soft dom!aventurine x virgin!female reader. smut. p in v -> protected. lots of praise. clit stimulation. breast play kinda. very soft and gentle sex. reader gets called ‘baby, my jewel, pretty girl.’ wc; 1.4k

aventurine is a gentle lover; never once having forced you into any acts of intimacy. you’re always the one leading the progress of your relationship. the control over the speed of how things go soothes your worries.

your comfort and consent is his number one priority. his little ‘may i’s before touching you are what reassure you. you’ve clearly chosen the right person to be your partner.

even now - when you’re finally beneath him, with your naked bodies indulging in a romantic session - aventurine makes sure to go slow. softly, gently and tenderly; like you’re a delicate flower. a delicate gem that’s threatening to break with just the slightest touch.

“you’re okay, baby,” aventurine mumbles quietly against your skin, his lips attaching to your neck. he gives you soft kisses all over in hopes to soothe you. he can feel you tremble when he pushes his tip against your tight entrance, “i got you, i got you—i promise.”

he does, in fact, have your back. you trust that he does. aventurine never fails to keep his promises, he always keeps his word even if it may seem impossible. perhaps it’s due to his luck—perhaps it’s due to his overbearing love for you.

“kakavasha..” you whimper his name. the blonde nearly chokes on his spit at the way you called out to him. he pats your head gently, that same hand moving down to collect the tears running down your cheeks. you sniff, “mph, h-how much more?”

aventurine kisses a tear drop away, sighing against your skin. you’re so precious to him and he wishes to convey that fact. he’s trying his best to keep calm, though he can feel his restraints fading each time your nails dig into his back. it hurts so good.

he doesn’t want to hurt nor scare you. therefore, aventurine takes a deep breath and flashes you his charming smile, blonde locks covering his magenta and cyan colored eyes. those eyes that were once devoid of life, now sparkling with affection for you.

“just a little bit. can you hold on for me?” aventurine asks in a soft tone. he places a quick kiss on the tip of your nose. his hands move to hold yours, fingers interlocking. he squeezes them when you answer his question with a nod, “heh, thank you.”

aventurine bottoms out after what feels like hours. he sighs in relief and buries his face into the crook of your neck. you’re tight, squeezing his cock like you’re begging him to stay—to stay connected forever. he gives you all the time you need to adjust to your insides being stretched and moulded to fit him.

your eyes are glazed over as you stare up at the ceiling. you feel so full. the stretch hurts a little, though you’re quick to accommodate to the intrusion. your fluids make it easy and more comfortable for both aventurine and you.

you’re grateful that your lover understands your position. you’ve been scared of sex since you were but a virgin, however it doesn’t seem as bad in the moment.

not when you got a boyfriend like aventurine.

“so precious,” aventurine coos and kisses your jaw. he eventually reaches your lips and gives them a quick yet passionate peck. his eyes roam over your naked, sweaty body that’s glimmering underneath the dim light of the small lamp, “you look stunning, my jewel.”

you tighten up around aventurine the moment he calls you by that nickname. he hisses at the feeling, his cock throbbing with the desire to move already. aventurine distracts himself from those urges by kissing your breasts.

his tongue rolls over your nipples, his hands still pinning yours to the soft mattress below you. he sucks on your chest and doesn’t think twice before leaving a hickey or two. you’re his and he likes to remind you of that fact.

aventurine slowly detaches from your tits, his saliva coating the plump flesh. he grins at the sight and hums in satisfaction. he looks up at you and watches as you say those words he’s waited on;

“it’s okay, you can move.”

aventurine nods after he makes sure you’re totally fine with it. he pulls his hips away, until his cock is halfway in before pushing back in your pussy. slow and gentle thrusts are the way to go.

you quickly get used to the rhythm of your lover’s thrusts. you can feel the love and passion behind them, each move done with a purpose. that purpose being to pleasure you and make you feel appreciated.

“is this okay? yeah?” aventurine pants, his pace quickening, yet also slowing down whenever he feels like he’s overwhelming you. your moans slowly fill his ears and your brain is visibly being taken over by the satisfaction.

your lover is entranced by the way your tits bounce in circles with each soft thrust. he can feel his tip hitting the deepest parts of your wet cunt, claiming you like he’s always dreamed of doing. the way you’re already drunk on pleasure is adorable.

he leans down and presses his lips against yours. this isn’t just mindless sex—it’s your first time and he strives to make it as romantic as possible. his tongue mingles with yours, the mixture of saliva running down your chin because of how sloppy you’re making out.

“just like that– fuck,” aventurine groans as his hips roll against you. he’s slowly drowning in the ecstasy. seeing you enjoy the moment as much as he does, is exciting him more than the actual act. he loves it when you enjoy yourself—gets off to it even, “let me hear more of that pretty voice.”

you let out little whines, blessing aventurine’s ears with your voice, just like he asked you. your boyfriend moans at the sound of you as his fingers reach down to circle your clit. he’s addicted to you—so in love. his hands move to your thighs, pulling them apart just a little more so his dick could reach further.

you get more sensitive by the second. especially when aventurine wraps your legs around his waist, his hands wandering all over your body. the pad of his thumb presses down on your clit, making you even more sensitive. your eyes roll back as you leave red scratches on his back, “feels good, s-so good!”

aventurine smirks at your moans. you’re beautiful in this moment beneath him, his cock filling you up to the brim. he feels the connection between the two of you deepening, your relationship reaching new heights.

the blonde male pants while he holds your body close—hips moving non-stop. he can’t get enough of you and vice versa.

“you’re so sensitive, baby,” aventurine chuckles as he feels your pussy spasm around his thick dick. it’s your first time, so he doesn’t blame you when you tell him that you’re close. he slyly increases the pace in which he rubs your clit, “gonna cum, hm? c’mon, you can make a mess on my dick, pretty girl.”

his smooth voice echoes in your mind and that’s all it takes to push over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover’s biceps and your back arches off the bed, head lolling backwards against the pillow. your lower abdomen tingles and you feel your legs shake due to the impact.

you’ve never felt so good. it’s so much—the feeling is overwhelming you. your body shakes underneath aventurine. he reads your body language and easily concludes that you’re a bit overstimulated by your own orgasm.

“good girl,” aventurine pats your head and rubs your cheek with his thumb. he kisses the corners of your eyes before doing the same to your forehead. your little whimpers and incoherent babbles melt his heart. your lover nods, “shhh, shh, i know. i know.”

he doesn’t care about the fact that he didn’t get to cum. tonight is all about you, not him. aventurine hugs you to his chest and whispers sweet nothings into your ear while you come down from your high.

“i love you so much,” you whisper between shallow breaths. you can feel your lover smile against the skin of your shoulder before he kisses you there. he sighs in content, not yet pulling out.

aventurine wishes to stay with you as one. for as long as you allow him to. he tilts his head back and looks down at you, placing his forehead against yours.

he truly is a lucky man;

“i love you more. so much more.”

[reinreingoawayy]

— before i could kiss you again

part i | part ii | part iii (soon)

a longer version of this

sae itoshi x f!reader | slight(?) language | kissing

wc: 1.3k

it was never your intention to kiss the sae itoshi.

it was supposed to be a fun one-week vacation for you in madrid. but circumstances happened and changed when you accidentally met your ex. now, the fun you’re supposedly going to have turned into an unbearable nightmare of trying to run away from his obnoxious ass. you have no intentions of talking or making peace with him especially when the reason for your falling apart was because of a cheating incident a few months ago. many people would know that you give zero fucks about cheating, including him, so when he asked you to get back to him, you scoffed the life out of you and thought he was kidding. and now, you are kissing the most famous sae itoshi in re al’s home stadium, right after their big game against fc barcha, in front of all the cameras, even probably in all spain or even in front of the whole world.

you first met sae on a flight going to Madrid. it was a very rare occasion for you to get upgraded to business class, so when the flight attendant asked you if you wanted to move to a business class seat, you didn’t have to think twice and said yes. you were seated next to the magenta-haired man with weird hair physics who was wearing a black sleeping mask while an ongoing football game was playing on his big screen. before, you didn't know who sae itoshi was. sure, you've heard about his name, and how he is japan's greatest treasure, but it has never occurred to you to know more about him. you didn't know what he looked like or whatever. all you know was that he is, apparently, good at playing football and that he plays in a professional football league in spain.

so when you saw him play, you couldn’t believe your eyes. the man from the plane was the same man your coworkers were crazy about. and when he struck a breathtaking goal that opened the door for re al’s victory near the end of the game, and everyone was rejoicing in re al’s home stadium, you couldn’t help but also join the crowd. hell, you didn’t even know what was going on. when they started chanting his name, you saw him waving his hand up, hyping the crowd to make the chanting louder. there’s a burning passion in his teal eyes as he continues to hype up the people and as his teammates give him a supportive slap on his back.

it was a fleeting moment of exhilarating joy especially when you realized that your ex was just sitting behind you. you don’t even know why he was there right now. as far as you know, your ex never really cared about football, like you before, so you were confused about why would he be there. when you started walking away from your seat, you heard him call your name but you pretended you didn’t hear. he kept calling your name, it was getting annoying. you thought you were clear before that you would never ever give second chances to someone who messed up, especially when the issue was infidelity. when you reach the entrance to the tunnel, you finally face him.

“i do not give a fuck if you want to explain. you cheated, saw it with my own eyes, and that was enough for me. we’re done. now if you could please stop calling my name, there’s someone waiting for me,” you said, with annoyance traced in your voice with every word you spat. you don’t really know who would be that someone waiting for you, all you wanted was to escape from his obnoxious and ridiculous begging. you turned your back again, but this time you felt his hand, grabbing your wrist.

“can you please let go?” you asked. you tried to be polite and civil but it seems like he’s been pushing his limits already.

“please, here me out fi—”

“what’s going on here?” you both look at the owner of the voice and for some reason, you sense a relief in your veins. you removed your ex’s hand from your wrist and gingerly approached sae itoshi. he looks so much better up close with those teal eyes, intently looking at yours, deciphering what’s going on in your head with the way you look at him. he may or may not remember you because you barely interact during that flight except when he lends you his moisturizer because you forgot to bring it. it also looks like he just finished his interview since the cameras are still following him. you’re fucked, you thought. they’re still probably airing and other people may be witnessing what is about to happen.

“sae…i was just about to find you!” you said with a forced smile on your face. you continued approaching him and stopped when you are just one step away from him.

you prayed a million times of sorries in your head before you went ahead and held the side of his face, tiptoeing, before placing your lips against his. you heard audible gasps from the people, a lot of camera clicks, and a bunch of ‘oh my gods,’ when you kissed him. it was usually a normal sight for them to see a football player kiss their significant other but sae itoshi was different. he doesn’t have any dating rumors and has never been linked to anyone so it’s a surprise to other people to see him kiss someone—or rather to see someone kiss him—out in the open like this. he was unmoved when you kissed him and all you could think of was, ‘fuck, fuck, fuck,’ and was ready to pull away but you felt his hand on the small of your back and started responding to your kiss.

your head was spinning and spinning, your thoughts were incoherent, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone still and silent. his lips were soft against yours and you’d be lying if you thought it wasn’t slightly addicting. you felt him pull away for a second, shifting his head’s angle before diving in again with his lips with renewed intensity. his kisses tasted like mint and strawberries, probably from the electrolyte drink he was drinking before. you felt his hand on your hips as your hand traveled to his slightly damped hair.

someone cleared their throat and pulled you both in reality. you quickly pulled away but stood close, not wanting to see what was waiting around you. and then a flash of light came flashing in and your heart suddenly felt like it was going to explode. he was quick you block most of your face with his hand on the second wave of flashing before making his body as your shield from all the camera shots. he took off his jacket before putting it around your shoulders, gesturing to his manager to accompany you out of the pitch and into the locker room. before you can fully exit the pitch, you look back and see him approach your ex, muttering some words. you’re not good at reading lips but you could’ve sworn he said something along the lines of, ‘…my girl.’

•••

the whole stadium was in chaos, but sae itoshi didn’t care. when you were already far enough to not hear the words he’s about to say, he made his way to your ex’s.

“please stop bothering my girl. i’m only going to ask once,” he said before leaving the pitch.

when he got to the locker room you were in, waiting, he closed the door and stood in front of you.

“i’m sorry—”

“i don’t need apologies. i need explanations,” he said, cutting you off.

you nodded.

“now explain, before i could kiss you again.”

•••

[pearlywritings]

In father’s embrace

synopsis: HSR men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Blade, Gepard, Loucha, Sampo, Jing Yuan x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, implied initial mortal x immortal in Blade’s

word count: 5.2k words

a/n: Luofu Xianzhou timeline is hell, so Blade’s one is quite vague. Here’s the Genshin version!

Blade

Blade tends to say that he has no connection to his past, but that is not true and very few (mostly Kafka) know he is lying. Even with his life and death fucked up he can't simply let go of someone his heart has been always full with, of someone who he promised himself to by the altar, even if under another name, of someone, who gifted him the joy of both his previous and current life - your daughter.

The blade - a cold weapon with no feelings - should not experience being lucky, but that’s what he was, when you clutched him in your arms the first time after his return from the dead and sobbed in his chest, telling him how much you missed him, how much his little angel missed him.

Back then he should've left without a trace, maybe even coming to you in the first place was a mistake, but he just couldn't. And his resolve crumbled completely when a white-haired toddler in your arms gazed at him with the same soft eyes as yours and reached out to his face, hesitantly asking "dada?".

As much as Blade is capable - he loves you and your daughter. He is quite absent due to his involvement with the Stellaron Hunters, but you understand how important that magenta-haired woman's ability is when it comes to restraining the mara in his body. After all that's the reason why he can visit without fear of hurting you or his little girl.

Some other sacrifices had to be made - one of them was moving from the Lofu Xianzhou, but that was alright and your daughter loved her new environment. Besides, dada has been visiting more often ever since you moved! And no one really bothered or chased after you (after all, you are still registered as his wife and higher ups of Lofu know), which, you assumed, was somehow connected with a young girl that once came with Blade.

Kafka once brought up a proposition of moving you two to the Stellaron Hunters' base for Blade's easier access, but he declined. At least his loved ones should have a peaceful everyday life.

With a tired sigh the black-haired man lowers himself on a sofa in the living room of the house you two purchased to start a seemingly new life. The red-hot iron in his eyes disappears behind the heavy eyelids and for a moment Blade allows himself to relax. The little wonder, that is his daughter, ran to your bedroom to fetch some hair accessories, after you encouraged your husband to let her style his long locks.

He doesn’t move when you sit next to him, hip to hip and heart to heart. He welcomes your sneaking fingers, curling his, creating a secure lock of hands. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder is grounding and he can’t help but press his cheek against it.

It’s soothingly silent.

It almost reminds him of the past.

“For how long will you be staying this time?

Even your question, spoken in a tender, understanding voice, is familiar. You used to ask him the same thing in-between his Cloud Quintet-related missions. 

These days it’s difficult to sneak and see you during breaks though.

“Fifteen days,” his breath is even, and eyes are still shut, but he senses a smile that tugs on the corners of your lips.

“That’s a lot. She will be so happy,” and he knows that you are as well.

The rapid stomping of little feet bursts into your peaceful serenity, and you simultaneously glance at the doorway. Low and behold - the soon-to-be hair stylist is proudly running into the room, tightly clutching your jewelry box with various hair pins inside.

“Dad, I practiced! Mom says I’ve been making huuuuuuge progress!”

A tiny smile touches his pale lips - it’s such a miracle that a monster like him is blessed to have the most adorable child in the whole universe. With her and you by his side, this life gets more and more bearable.

“If mom says you’ve been, then it must be the truth,” he nods, letting go of your hand - but not before giving it a little affectionate stroke with his thumb, - sliding down and onto the floor, turning his back to the girl.

Giggling excitedly, she gives you the box, which you quickly unlock, and starts looking through the many intricate pieces of jewelry (many are your beloved’s presents), until finding the perfect one.

Having his hair being touched is weird. He was aware that the white luscious locks used to draw attention, but only you were honored to run your fingers through them, and only his baby was allowed to tug on them, making her father wince. Now it’s different - she is oh so careful, brushing, collecting stray locks and braiding, not once causing him pain.

Blade sighs again, but looks at you from the corner of his eye, catching you snickering in your palm upon gazing at something that your daughter is turning his hair into. Well, that’s concerning.

But at this very moment he can’t bring himself to care. If he gets fifteen whole days before his next mission, he is going to savor this time with his family - no matter how disastrous he’s going to look by the end of it.

Gepard

A family man. So no one was surprised when in the end the leader of the Silvermane Guards ended up with three kids - two sons and a daughter. Partly it was dictated by the rules of nobles and his family among them, but ultimately it was your mutual sincere decision.

It’s obvious he is not there for many of his kids’ first times, as sometimes his duties prevail and even the Supreme Guardian cannot help it, but he really-really tries to be there as much as possible. He appreciates the videos you send him, has every single one stored in his phone’s memory and sometimes, when there is no communication, in his spare moment he replays them to remind himself that soon he’ll return home and see his kids and you.

Only one time he really fucked up because of work - during your first pregnancy you both underestimated the soon arrival of your due date and he left on a mission with his troops, reassured that he’ll be back before the day you go into labor. The snowstorm was severe and the connection was cut, so the message Serval sent him when your water broke was not delivered. His soldiers would bring to their graves the image of a deathly pale Gepard, when many hours later he checked his phone back at the base and nearly broke the screen, trying to type his sister’s number.

After that he started taking paternity leave seriously.

You do not keep in touch with his parents a lot - there were instances where they disapproved of you, but all of his siblings are always welcomed in your house and to see their nephews and niece, because they supported your relationship from the moment they met you in flesh.

Serval is an enormous help when it comes to babysitting. It’s like her part-time job honestly - you even offered to pay her, but she declined, suggesting offering her a helping hand whenever she’d need instead. Oh, and to be the first one out of all the Landau siblings (after her brother, of course) to know about the latest updates on your kids.

The kids that are adorable. All three won the ‘blue eyes’ lottery, which, given the previous generations of Landau, is not a big surprise; both boys look like Gepard, while the girl took more after you in appearance. The man really doesn’t want to play favorites, but sometimes he is just too weak for his little princess, who looks just like her mom. She is the youngest too with a pretty big age gap between her and her brothers, who were born a year apart, so there is literally no jealousy, because your sons took their father’s example and became her protectors.

Even from a 'big bad dragon' that is their aunt…

When you step inside your house and hear the kids still fussing somewhere in the rooms, involuntarily your gaze falls to the old grandfather’s clock in the foye. Almost midnight. All three should be long asleep with Serval sending you a notification of her success. Which you didn’t receive and for that reason had to cut your date short and hurry back home.

Your husband looks as concerned as you are, locking the door and straining his ears to determine what’s going on. With both your coats abandoned, you carefully step further into the house, making your way to the line of light coming from under one of the doors.

Two jaws almost kiss the floor when you see Serval lying on the floor tied and gagged with a scarf. Alone. For a moment you fear the worst.

Rushing inside, you let Gepard search the other rooms for intruders. Helping your sister-in-law to sit is no problem, but the knot behind her head is awfully tightened. In the end you manage to yank it down to free her mouth, quickly switching to the rope constricting her hands.

“Y/n, oh my god,” she gasps, finally able to speak. “Who taught your sons to tie knots like this!? I didn’t know a sixteen- and fifteen-year olds can be so strong-”

“Come again?” Stunned, you stop untying her wrists, looking at the woman with widened eyes. Your boys did what?

“My precious nephews - whom I really do not want to strangle - took the game of knights too seriously, and when - maybe a half an hour ago? - I decided to play the dragon who was stealing the princess - my niece of three years, - they attacked and tied me!”

“Huh…” is all you can say, feeling relief wash over you. At least there are no burglars or kidnappers and your kids are safe.

When, listening Serval’s huffs of complaints, you move to untie her legs, the heavy steps of your husband are heard in the hallway, accompanied by the boys whining and begging their dad not to come to the living room, because the dragon would eat their sister.

His tall figure appears in the doorway, with your daughter in his arms, looking very sleepy, and two almost carbon copies of their dad pulling at his jacket to give them their sister back.

“Serval, what in blazes have you told them?” The judging tone and the squint of his blue eyes are directed at his elder sibling.

“It was just a game, Geppie! A silly game they turned into reality.”

“Aunt said she’d eat her,” your oldest pouts, eyeing her cautiously. “And she told us stories about the cannibals the other night-”

“Serval, you what?”

“Hey, they asked me to! Oh, thanks, Y/n,” she shrugs the loosened rope off of her. “Where did you even get this?”

“Aunt Lynx gave us,” the second son chirps, hugging Gepard’s side. “She showed us how to do knots.”

“This little-”

Suddenly you feel a headache coming. With big family come big challenges, but something of this caliber hasn’t happened in a while. It makes you smile though - you almost forgot what it was like - to raise two boys. Seems like your girl brings the borderline naughtiest out of them.

Loucha

To begin with it's worth mentioning that your and Loucha's marriage started as an unpredictable necessity. You both needed to enter the world that allowed only married foreigners' access. So, quickly figuring that your goal matches, you got married on a neighboring planet, spent a month there to make the marriage more believable in the sense of its duration and learning more about each other. Yeah, all of that just to fulfill your respectful jobs. You invented and rehearsed all the possible answers to the questions, perfected your affectionate act and were actually feeling quite comfortable around each other.

It was almost funny, when on the 'how many kids do you plan to have?' Loucha confidently answered 'two', and a couple of years later your first son was born, and then, after 7 more years, another one was too.

Admittedly, the oldest one was kind of unplanned, but at that point you traveled so much together, shared so many memories, even ended up caring for each other on a lover-like level, that you decided to give it a shot, just like you did with the continuation of your marriage.

And Loucha couldn't be more pleased. Surprisingly, he found the peace of those first years he spent settled down to raise your boy delightful. And there was something exciting about having a little wonder with a perfect mix of both of your features in your arms, as your husband's hand is resting on the small of your back, leading you through the crowds of the new planet's lively market, as the child's eyes shine with marvel, taking in his surroundings.

When Loucha suggested having another one it simply felt right.

Your sons are so lucky in the sense of seeing the universe, because their father is a traveling merchant. Sure, he doesn't always take you and your two boys with him, but whenever his deal allows him enough freedom and your kids are doing great in school and can be taken on a little vacation - you three are going with him.

Usually he gets to take care of the youngest one, since only Loucha's vast knowledge can satisfy his curiosity, while the oldest one calmly walks hand in hand with you, content with listening to their conversation and pointing out to you the things he already knows himself, receiving a soft praise from you and an approving nod from his father.

Back home the roles reverse - the oldest is spending most of his time with Loucha to learn all about medicine and healing techniques, while the youngest is more interested in sharing your hobbies. 

The two hardly ever quarrel as siblings tend to do, and it must be because of the overall serene atmosphere of your family dynamic, your soft nature and your husband's tranquil behavior. 

More than a decade ago Loucha wouldn't have imagined himself with a wife and kids. Nowadays, however, he doesn't like the thought of not having the three of you by his side.

It is a quiet afternoon. A little house you rented for a little vacation has a nice yard - perfect for the kids to have fun outside. You occasionally glance at them from the window of the kitchen to make sure everything is fine, while your hands never stop moving - washing, cutting, stirring.

At some point you are so caught in the moment of tranquility, that you do not hear your husband walking in, until he softly hums to alert you of his presence, and puts his palms on your waist.

“Smells delicious,” you smile, feeling his chin on your shoulder, and grab a piece of a tangerine you are meaning to use for dessert, offering it to him.

“Mhm, I am trying to cook what we had yesterday at that restaurant.”

Ah, right, the restaurant the kids enjoyed. He remembers how you sneaked to the kitchen and came back with a little less credits, but with new recipes and an excited smile on your face.

“Hopefully my rendition will be to our boys’ liking. And don’t think I forgot about you - those Loufu Xianzhou-style noodles are already on their way!”

“So thoughtful of you, darling,” his silky voice caresses your ear and not a second later a kiss is pressed to your cheek. “Do you need any help?”

“Weren’t you busy?” You decide to clarify, clearly recounting how he locked himself in one of the rooms earlier that day to test something. To your question Loucha shakes his head.

“All done already. And I missed you and the kids.”

“Then go and play with them,” you urge, turning to face him to offer a sweet smile. “I’ll handle it here, but the boys could use some quality time with their father.”

“You say that as if they didn’t drag us all around the city yesterday and then climb into our bed and refuse to leave.”

“I mean, it’s the first time in two months they properly see you. That last deal of yours was exceptionally time-consuming.”

“You kept me updated on them so well and those video calls we had… it didn’t even feel like I ever left.”

You only huff and return your gaze to the stove, yet leaning into his chest a little. For a minute it’s quiet, and the man is taking his time before parting from you. That is until he takes a deep inhale and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“What for, handsome?” There is that teasing lilt in your voice he came to love. Over the course of your lives together he discovered many things to love you for, and if not for that desperate decision to get married - he thinks he’d hardly ever feel the same about his life.

“For everything.”

He leaves your side with a kiss on your shoulder and the next time you glance out of the window again - he is already there, hoisting his youngest in one arm and chasing after the oldest one with his hair swaying in the gentle wind. And your heart is at peace. 

Sampo

In all his life Sampo has managed to never impregnate a single woman and he considers that a success. For all the crap people speak about him Sampo is not an idiot, even though he acts like a fool at times. He is extremely self-aware and bringing a child to this world is probably the last thing on his list.

But no one said anything about someone else’s child, right?

Your and Sampo’s relationship is… strange, not going to lie. One evening you happened to help a scared woman to escape from some drunkards (whom you lately found out were the Silvermane Guards, sober and on duty), only for the long wig to slip and the heavy coat to slide down, revealing shortly cut but nicely styled hair and obviously male broad shoulders. The only thing the man managed to get out was a sheepish “hehe”.

And boy did that “hehe” change your life.

That day Sampo Koski got off the hook, since you didn’t comment anyhow and just let him go, which, given you were an overworlder, he found intriguing. So he dug a little bit, out of pure curiosity. Besides, this man didn't like staying in debt to someone and he needed information to see how he could pay you back.

That’s when he found out you were a single mother. An opera singer, but divorced and with full custody over a six-year old daughter.

And honestly, he didn’t give it much thought at first. He simply arranged a nice bouquet of red roses for you, paid Natasha a little for a handmade plushie and left it all at the door steps with a ‘thank you’ note.

Until a couple of weeks ago, disguised again, he didn’t stumble into a group of kids obviously bullying a little girl, mocking her for not having a father, and throwing something among themselves that she tried to catch. And he recognized the toy. And one glance was enough to see how much she looked like the woman he met only once. And against his better judgment Sampo walked to the children, easily snatching the toy and effectively scaring everyone off. Only with that little girl still being there, eyes full of unshed tears and fingers digging in the skirt of her pretty dress.

That tiny ‘thank you’ when he handed the plushie back to her and she hugged it tightly to her chest made the conman’s heart clench, and for the second time that day he sent his plans to hell, keeping her company near the house you lived in until you arrived from work.

That day he learned many things - how much your daughter loved the toy and what a sweet little thing she was, how tired a person can look and how much a throat can hurt from the whole day of singing during rehearsals, how nice a home-made dinner can be once you are invited, but most importantly - how even such a damned man like him can be gazed upon with gratitude and not from one, but two people.

From that day many other instances happened, but in the end he just stuck around. It was strange, it was new, but in a sense it was comforting, especially when you would come home - on Friday, for example, - and he’d be there, entertaining your daughter and then greeting you with a smile and a silly wave of his hand.

You don’t have a husband, and your daughter doesn’t have a father - but with his presence Sampo Koski manages to fill those voids even if a little bit.

Aeons you love days off. A morning to finally sleep in and do not run around like crazy in attempts to get yourself and your kid ready. Even breakfast wasn’t on you today, because the ‘silly man’ stayed the night and told you to get your sleep, assuring you with that confident puff of his chest that the Sampo Koski would offer you his best service, which effectively made you giggle.

Tonight he even cuddled with you, letting you bury your face in his neck and be a little vulnerable in the arms of a man with whom you had the most peculiar relationship ever. But after such equally peculiar moments you really start thinking of suggesting moving from the couch in the living room to your bedroom permanently. It’s been months already, who would’ve thought.

Barefoot and not even glancing at the robe on the chair near the window you leave the room, rubbing at your eyes and brushing your hair away from your face. You are craving the cup of your morning drink, and so you let your legs carry you to the kitchen at first. However two voices coming from your wardrobe room instantly peak your interest and make you halt in your walking. What on earth could your daughter and your clown of a man be doing there?

And soon enough you find it out.

“Sit still, please!” The girl begs with an eye shadow palette in one tiny hand and a huge brush in the other. “It’ll smudge if you keep turning to the mirror!”

“Just can’t wait to see how beautiful I am, princess, ‘s all~”

There, on the floor among the rows of your clothes and shelves with beauty products and accessories, none other than Sampo is sitting, willingly offering his face to your daughter’s practice of applying makeup. And gods he looks absolutely hilarious.

But that’s not what exactly concerns you.

“Is that my dress?” You point at the red shimmery thing snuggly sitting on the man in front of you and that’s when the two notice you.

“Yes, mommy!”

“Say I pulled it off, right?” With a smirk the green-eyed menace winks at you and it looks even worse with poorly done lashes. You have to stifle your laughter. “Though I must admit, we had to keep it unzipped - my chest appeared to be bigger than yours-”

And that’s when you regret not bringing slippers with you - one flying in his head would be of great help.

“Sometimes I really hate you.”

“Nuh, sweet thing, you love me!”

“Well,” you step closer, grabbing a tissue to try and fix at least the overly bright blush on his cheeks, “maybe. Maybe I actually do.”

Suddenly Sampo is tongue-tied and silent, trying very hard to fight off the stupid grin forcing its way onto his face. But with thoroughly smeared red lipstick on his mouth it looks so damn comical.

“Mom, do you think pa looks pretty?” Your daughter hopefully asks, putting aside her tools, and that little two-letter word doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. You feel a real blush burning under your deft fingers.

“Yes, sweety, Pa-mpo looks very pretty,” his head whips in your direction like you’ve just told him to go and surrender to the Belobog’s esteemed order keepers.

“...Pa-mpo?”

“Would you prefer Da-mpo instead?” Cocking your head in question, you smirk at him, relishing in the pout he is wearing at the moment. “Or maybe Sam-pa?”

“No, thank you very much,” he huffs. “Little princess called me ‘pa’, so be nice and respect it.”

And now it is you who is surprised. You haven’t really discussed with Sampo who he was to your daughter, and who she was to him - but if he is making this step of acknowledging the matter, then who are you to spoil it? Who knows, maybe things will work out quite pleasantly in the end.

“Alright, pa, I will respect that.”

“Hey! For you I am your precious popo baby, a koskiss to your lips, the love of your-”

“Don’t even dream of it.”

Jing Yuan

Yanqing would be enough of an answer to the kid question, but it is not. Sure, his young disciple is practically a son to the General, but it doesn't mean the man doesn't want his own children.

He does and he has. On multiple occasions Jing Yuan's subordinates walked in on him with a small figure sitting in his lap or perched on his strong arm, observing what the dad's been up to with his plans and documents. You scolded your husband for this many times, but the bastard only smiles and keeps stealing his daughter to work to keep him company. Or she sneaks on her own - that caused you many almost heart attacks when she was no older than a couple of decades.

For Jing Yuan it’s all good though - he gets to spend time with his baby and have you inevitably join him in search for your adventurous child.

The General has a separate folder for all the pictures of his daughter on his phone - every single one he takes and every single one you send him when he couldn’t bring his girl to some of his meetings (yet he really tried, until you put your foot down and saved many of his subordinates from the prolonging of said meetings). Even the background, hidden from prying eyes behind the passcode of your and her birthdays, is his little one, cradled in your arms, as the two of you are watching kites flying in the sky.

Yanqing at first was set on treating her with the same respect he does his mentor and you, his wife, but you quickly put an end to it, basically turning the boy into her older brother. He didn’t mind at all - if anything he is sometimes way too eager to push the two of you to go on a date so he can babysit. Often you would return to the two fast asleep either on the girl’s bed or cuddled to Mimi with toys scattered and at least two books lying on the floor. The huge lion adores the girl - sometimes you feel like it thinks of her as its own cub, and the thick mane of hair your daughter got from her father does not help.

And it appeared to be as eager to steal your daughter from you as your husband is…

“Y/n!” You practically jump when the doors to your bedroom fly open and Jing Yuan bursts inside. Immediately you notice his disheveled state - hair down and a mess, the robe he wore this morning for comfortable work in his home office is falling off one of his shoulders and a shoe is missing from his foot.

“Aeons, Yuan, don’t scare me like that,” you put a comb down on your vanity table and fully turn to face him. “What happened?”

“Is our precious baby with you?” He steps further into the room and starts looking around frantically. Okay, now that got worrisome.

“No? You took her earlier this afternoon after lunch to play in your study while you work. Have you really forgotten that? My love, you are getting old.”

You hear clearly as he curses under his breath, raking thick fingers through his hair. The golden eyes look at you and in them you spot a flicker of anxiety.

“...Jing Yuan, don’t tell me that you managed to lose our daughter.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he winces at the full name usage, watching you rise from your seat and quickly approach him. “She was right by my side, watching the animal videos on my phone, but then I got immersed in the latest reports from the Sky-Faring Commission and when I finished whose - she was gone!”

“Uh, want me to call your phone? Maybe she still has it.”

To that he puts a hand in the robe’s pocket and brings out his device. Oh god.

“It was lying on the floor, still playing videos.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” you are not sure if you are telling it to him or to yourself, but you too take an inhale, meanwhile busying your hands with adjusting his clothes. “Even buried in work you’d still notice if a human sneaked in, right?” He nods. “And you’d notice if she left - she would’ve warned you about that.” He nods again, lips pursed and eyes staring at one point. “Yanqing is not as skilled to come unannounced and take her, and he wouldn’t do it without your permission, so-”

“Wait,” his hand catches yours and realization flashes in his features. “Mimi came.”

“...Mimi?” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your husband turns around and rushes out of the bedroom. Concerned and a little bit intrigued, you quickly follow.

In one of the rooms of your huge house the two of you finally find the lion, and Jing Yuan almost drops on the floor in relief when his girl is spotted in the animal’s embrace. 

“Is she…sleeping?” You ask, glancing from behind his broad back.

“It appears so. Hey, Mimi,” the maned head lifts, two ambers taking in your appearances and a pleased huff is let out through the nose upon recognition.

“Well, my dear,” you pat his shoulder, shaking your head, “it appears that people were right - like the owner, like the pet. Congratulations, your lion took your habit of stealing our daughter to heart. Good luck prying her from it.”

“You say it like it’s something hard to do,” there it is, a confident smile is back on his face as he strides closer to the animal, ready to bend down and get his girl. Only for that lift of the corners of his lips to be gone when Mimi growls at him in a warning and shields your daughter’s little body with its head.

You only smirk and leave the scene to go and get your phone - there is no way you are not filming your husband dealing with the consequences of his own behavior.

[peachdues]

That tengen picture unleashed something inside me-

His fingers knuckle deep inside while he listens to your symphony of moans..

After he's done he licks them clean but he isn't done, nights still young after all

bestie, we are on the same page. And because I’m feeling a certain type of way, enjoy this scene from Tengen’s upcoming installment of Tell Me to Stop

VIOLENT DELIGHTS — NSFW SNEEK PEEK

bodyguard!Tengen x Assassin!Reader • enemies to lovers AU

A/N: giggling and kicking my feet rn.

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • fingering • edging • Tengen referring to Reader as a villain (affectionate) • rough sex • alley sex

“You’re a bastard.” But the ferocity of your insult is weakened by the way your back arches against the rugged stone of the alley wall; how you widen your thighs, a soft moan vibrating on your lips as Uzui sinks another finger into your wet heat.

The silver-haired asssassin only smirks as he leans in, close enough that the slightest movement would mean his lips would brush against yours.

He stills, leaving less than a millimeter between your mouths.

“But I am yours,” his breath is sweet and warm as it fans over your face. “And I’ll make you mine, even if I die trying.”

It is difficult to focus on anything but the hand between your thighs, pushed down the front of your trousers that he’d hastily untied when he’d cornered you in this dark alleyway.

Thick. The Sound Assassin’s fingers are so gods’ damned thick. He’d had you whimpering from just one, sliding in and out of your honeyed warmth with ease, your damn body betraying your desperate hunger for his.

The presence of the second finger stroking along your inner walls with each languid push of his hand has you gritting your teeth as the pleasure he bestows becomes edged by the faintest hint of discomfort.

It is maddening, how easily your body gives into his cursed touch. So much so that it sinks into your skin, ignites an itch that grows more incessant with each heaving breath.

You seek to take out some of your frustrations on his mouth. You stretch up on your toes, biting back a whimper at the way the tension in your legs and the new arch in your body pushes those wretched fingers deeper into your body.

Your hand seizes the nape of his neck and tries to jerk him down toward you.

Uzui tenses for a moment, his eyes widening before his mouth settles into a smirk, and he pulls back.

Those damnable magenta eyes flash with amusement at your responding snarl as you try and pull him down again, all to no avail.

“If it’s my lips you desire, then you’ll have to beg for them, sweet devil.”

The rough cobblestone of the wall scrapes against your back as you push harder into him. Your fingers twist harshly in his hair and you yank his head forward. “Kiss me, you damn brute —“

Your legs spasm as Uzui crooks his fingers inside you until he’s pressing directly on that rough patch of flesh deep inside your innermost wall — the one that had made you sob as he’d bullied it with the thick head of his cock weeks ago, when you’d thrown him down and taken him under the stars.

“Ah ah,” Uzui tuts, and the smug set of his mouth threatens to boil your blood. “Beg nicely.”

The slow, torturous massage of his fingers against that damn spot forces a trickle of drool from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue grows far too swollen, you head far too fogged, to even try and form the request he seeks.

Uzui, it seems, does not care that his hand is fucking you into a dumb stupor.

“Is your pride so great that you cannot muster a simple ‘please?’” He jeers, his eyes flashing with both lust and challenge.

He smirks, revealing a row of pearly white teeth as your thighs begin to quiver around his hand, your inner walls fluttering around each measured stroke of his fingers.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re about to come, aren’t you?” And his grin widens at the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, desperate to hold in the soft, breathy moans he knows you want to make. “Yeah, you are.“

His fingers wrench cruelly out from between your legs, leaving you with nothing but the ache of a rapidly fading high. But before you can howl you protest, before you can curse his name and his mother for the insult of his birth, Uzui flips you around and slams you into the alley wall.

His hand forces space between your groin and the stone, and without warning, he plunges his fingers right back into your soaking heat, clenching heat.

The moan rumbling in your throat feels distant and foreign as your eyes roll back. Uzui resumes his messy, hurried movements as though he hadn’t broken pace to begin with, and soon, your legs are vibrating where they’re pressed against the wall.

A sharp prodding against your backside brings you back down to earth long enough to realize Uzui is grinding wantonly against you, the rotation of his hips matching each thrust of his fingers.

There is no where for you to go; no where to escape. Not when your front is mashed against the alley wall, pinned in place by the heavy, suffocating mass of the Sound Assasin at your back.

Uzui’s teeth catch the lobe of your ear. “I know you, my darling nemesis. I know your body better than my own.”

The rational part of you screams to bite back; to fight, to show him exactly how he doesn’t know you at all, and how he’s an idiot for believing otherwise. But then, Uzui adds a third finger inside you, and the resulting stretch and burn between your legs is nearly as great as it had been when you’d first impaled yourself on his cock, all those weeks ago.

It was a sensation you’d been chasing ever since, only to be bitterly disappointed upon realization that no tavern boy, no cocky palace sentinel, could ever compare to the sheer mass of the King’s closest guard.

Resigned, you brace one palm flat against the stone wall, willing the bite of the rock against your skin to keep you grounded even as the silver-haired guard’s fingers threaten to send you free falling from some internal ledge. The other grasps wildly behind you in search of him, clutching at his hip and pulling him closer.

Uzui groans his approval into the side of your head, and he allows his great weight to smother you against the wall as he leans forward.

“Do you think I could have forgotten how it feels to have you climax around me?” His thumb swirls that bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs as his fingers continue to pump steadily in and out of you. “Do you truly think I don’t spend my nights imagining you, perched atop me, using my cock the way you desire? That the memory of your face screwed up in pleasure — the feeling of your divine cunt wrapped around me — doesn’t haunt my every waking thought?”

He plunges his fingers inside you, all the way to his third knuckle. “You must answer for the torture you’ve inflicted, you cruel, wicked creature.”

You cry out right as Uzui strokes that inner spot once more, your hips twisting and grinding desperately against his hand as the thumb working your bead increases its pressure.

The bulge pressed right against your ass is rock-hard, and the thought of what lies beneath his trousers makes your mouth water.

The coil in your gut begins to tighten once more, this time more quickly than it had when you’d been facing him. Its pull is stronger, and the way his thick fingers keep grazing that sweet spot on your innermost wall all but guarantees you’ll be turned to liquid right there in that seedy alleyway.

You need his lips — otherwise, your screams will alert everyone within a fifty-meter vicinity of exactly how capable the Sound Assassin was of breaking you.

You try and warn him. “Uzui —“

“All you have to do, my sweetest torment, is beg.”

Your walls pulse violently around his fingers, a warning that you are mere seconds away from succumbing to brutal pleasure. Your hips begin moving on their own, grinding and checking desperately into his hand as the rough stone wall bites and scrapes against your exposed hips.

The need for him — for his lips — burns hot in your blood. It is maddening, this desire for his intimacy, and yet, try as you might, you cannot squash it.

You need it — need his kiss, need him to consume you whole.

“T-Tengen.” It slips out before you can stop it, your mouth forming the syllables with a startling ease.

Behind you, the Sound Assassin freezes, his hand stilling its maddening exploration of your core.

Never before had you called him by his given name; normally, you were in the habit of calling him every derogatory insult under the sun. At best, you’d called him Uzui.

Though you are turned away from him, you can feel the shift in him; the dark lust that settles over him, clouds whatever common sense he claimed to possess, replacing it with base need.

“That counts,” he growls in reply, and then the hand between your thighs resumes its task with more vigor than before, which the other snares in your hair and wrenches your head back.

The strain in your throat amplifies as Uzui roughly claims your mouth with his. He does not bother to wait for your permission before deepening the kiss; instead, he only tightens in hold in your hair, forcing you to gasp into him. The moment your lips part, his tongue sweeps past, branding you with each lick at the roof of your mouth.

You suppose it’s a good thing Uzui has smothered your moans with his feverish lips and demanding tongue. For the second his hand pulls away from between your legs, right as you’re on the precipice of cumming to pull that thick, monstrous length of his free from his trousers, you surely would’ve cried out in protest.

And that wicked mouth of his also manages to swallow the scream of pleasure that follows as Uzui enters you in a single, deep plunge, as well as your subsequent groan as you climax around him, just as he begins roughly fucking you against the alley wall.

[smutoperator]

Rookie Initiation

An Yujin, Kim Jiwon (Liz) x Male Reader

Tags: A2M, anal, ass-to-pussy, basketball game, carry-fucking, corrupted, couch sex, (lots of) creampies, cum on ass, facesitting, first anal, full nelson, high heels, kitty and puppy, (a little) lesbian, oil, painal, "small" butt, squirting, tall girls, threesome.

Word count: 5567

Atlanta, United States, March 23rd, 2024

Yujin is truly a lucky girl. One day before the Ive concert, she had a great night attending the basketball game in Atlanta, alongside her cute friend Liz. On the court, it was a big win for the home team, the Hawks, who defeated the Charlotte Hornets 132-91. Off the court, meetings with celebrities like Anne Hathaway.

But amidst all that, Yujin had her eyes focused somewhere else, on a handsome guy distributing the basketballs to the players as the game went on. Once the lights of the arena went off, Yujin made sure to get to him.

"So, my name is Yujin, and I have a concert tomorrow at the arena with my group. Could you come by? I have free tickets for you to meet us before the concert," she said. "Sure," you answered back, a bit unsure but accepting the offer regardless.

On the following day, you entered the arena as the manager guided you to Yujin's room. Meanwhile, she and Liz were chatting. "So, are you ready for this challenge?" Yujin asked the youngster. "I think so; I've never done this before," Liz replied. Indeed, Yujin and Liz dressed themselves with just a bra and panties, a magenta one for Yujin and a cyan one for Liz, nothing else on, waiting for you to arrive as they oiled their bodies up to prepare themselves.

"You really like my small butt, don't you, Jiwon?" Yujin poked fun at Liz, still with that episode of her confusing Gaeul's butt with Yujin's. "Sorry, unnie, your butt is not small," Liz said. "Glad you learned it, and today you're about to see how powerful it is," Yujin bragged. "Come on, spread that oil all over my small ass; let it drip all over my thighs," Yujin ordered.

The two kept playing with each other in anticipation, Liz slapping Yujin's ass as the leader got her legs on the top of the couch in the room while Liz massaged her while sitting on the couch. Liz took Yujin's panties for a bit, warming her unnie up as she ate her pussy. "Put it on my face, please," Liz said, eating her out and feasting on Yujin's meaty clit. "Oh, your tongue is so good eating me like that," Yujin told her. 

"Ready to get fucked in the ass for the first time, slut?" Yujin poked Liz with a little slap in the cheeks. Liz wasn't ready, truth be told, but her unnies kept telling her how amazing it was that she decided to try. "Rei and Wonyoung keep pushing me to do this, and now I wonder what's so good about anal sex," Liz told her. "Well, you'll find out soon," Yujin replied.

"I think you're going to really enjoy it. I see you love to be spanked like a whore," Yujin continued as Liz got on all fours on the couch, letting her unnie lick her pussy sticking out of her thong. "Yes, I love this," Liz confirmed as Yujin admired her long legs, kissing and oiling up the young girl's ass and taking her panties off to massage her tight holes. "You touch my pussy so well, unnie," Liz told her.   As Yujin got word of your arrival, she greeted you with a half-naked look. You were baffled, but at the same time, you loved how pretty she looked. Her body was truly amazing, especially her long legs and her signature meaty thighs, fully exposed for you to see and shiny from all the oil Liz spread over them.

Yujin wasted no time and took your pants off as soon as you got to the door. You were shocked, but just let her do her thing. She then introduced you to Liz. "That's my friend; she was at the ballgame yesterday; her name is Liz," Yujin said. The two got naked from the torso down, letting you admire their perfect legs yourself. You couldn't contain your horniness, matching them as you slipped your cock out, already sliding them between their thighs and slapping their butts, taking alternate turns between them.

"You want us to play with you?" Yujin asked as you kissed Liz and humped your cock between her legs. "She's very pretty, right, big boy?" Yujin asked. "For sure," you said.

"Get on your knees," you said, trying to play the alpha guy. Liz obliged, but Yujin wanted something different, watching from behind as the youngester started sucking your cock. Yujin finally followed suit as Liz started licking your balls. "I didn't know you could work on a cock like that," Yujin said, joining the fun as their faces slid up and down your shaft, one at each side. Yujin was the first to suck your tip as you watched her hungrily take on that massive cock all by yourself with Liz still heating up your balls.

"That cock is so hard," Yujin complimented your turgid shaft as she took it deeper in her mouth. You couldn't resist the urge and pushed it up her face, with her taking your challenge with ease, before letting Liz take it all by herself. "Wow," Yujin exclaimed as Liz not only managed to do it without gagging but pushed her face close to your crotch to deliver the first deepthroat of the day.

You slid your throbbing cock between their pretty faces multiple times. "Oh shit," you exclaimed, feeling lucky to have two beautiful girls worshipping it at the same time as they climbed up and kissed your hard shaft, with you dunking Liz's head against it shortly after. You sat on the couch like a boss, romantically kissing Liz, while Yujin took sole possession of that huge prick.

Yujin's deepthroating skills put you on edge, as she went hard from the start. Meanwhile, Liz was already sitting on your face, letting you eat her needy pussy fully and give her ass a little tap, with her already beautifully moaning as you worked on her folds. Yujin, on the other hand, was such a whore; she was already taking your balls down her basket like a pro and sliding that anaconda all the way until it bulged under her neck.

"Get down on this dick," you ask Liz as soon as Yujin stops her throat craziness. The youngster slides with ease, helped by the mess Yujin made on your cock. Meanwhile, as Liz tries to prove herself, bouncing on your cock all the way deep, Yujin takes her bra off and lines up behind Liz to watch her ride you. "Good slut, already riding that dick like an eager whore," Yujin praises her. Liz and you engage in a fast and passionate fuck, trying to outdo each other as both of you get hornier at each thrust.

"Keep going, Lizzie, all the way down," Yujin tells her, working as a cheerleader for the youngster. "Let's go, baby boy, impale her cunt," Yujin orders you, who pushes up. "Oh yes, fuck, do it just like she said." Liz reacts well to someone who didn't seem ready for the challenge yesterday. "You trained hard for this, didn't you? To take that big cock balls deep in that pussy," Yujin said. "Yes, yes, I did, FUCK," Liz says, screaming just as you hit her cervix.

Yujin kisses Liz as you two keep pushing yourselves to see who pushes the hardest. Liz rides, you answer by pushing up, and the game goes on for a while, but you ultimately let her take over as you fall from the couch and she grinds on your dick with her high heels on. After sitting on the sidelines for a bit, Yujin finally enters the game, smashing her ass straight into your face. "Lick it, baby, tongue my asshole," she demands. Liz continues to moan as she bounces all over your dick, while you please Yujin's marvelous dump truck of an ass, spanking it and already dreaming of fucking it as soon as Liz stops her ride.

"You like that?" Yujin asks Liz, impressed with the way she bounces and grinds on that prick. She had always viewed Liz as the innocent one alongside Gaeul, but little did she know her fellow 2004 liners had already been teaching Liz for a while to meet those moments. 

"Oh, your pussy is perfect," you said. It was unclear if you were talking about Liz's on your cock or Yujin's on your face. But either way, it works regardless. Liz finally took a break to worship your meat, tasting her juices all over it like a good slut. Yujin watched and stared at her as she buried her ass deeper in your face. The two tall women had put you into complete submission, with Liz giving a sloppy mess of a blowjob while Yujin seemed like she wanted to kill you by ass suffocation.

"Let me fuck that ass." You couldn't handle it anymore, slipping away from Yujin's grasp as she got on her knees on the couch, her big butt facing you. "I see you had a lot of fun with kitty's kitty," she said. "But how about you come have fun with this needy puppy right here?" she said, wiggling her tail at you.

You pushed Yujin's wonderful ass up, placing your right foot on the arm of the couch, ready to mount her. If Yujin wanted to be your puppy, you'd make sure to fuck her just like a dog does. You rubbed your cock between her thicc thighs and teased her meaty entrance, but both of you wanted one hole the most, that tight anus of her, which you quickly entered as you topped Yujin, allowing Liz to freely reign on her unnie's pussy and give her extra pleasure eating her folds as you pumped the shit out of her butt.

Yujin loved how you fucked her ass balls deep from the start. She really likes no-nonsense, hard-fucking the most of all Ive girls. The best guys are always the ones who meet the challenge of taking their stallions all the way deep full speed inside her fat ass. You knew you had to be up to the task, using Liz's mouth to help you slide in after some initial dry fucking, sensing Yujin could really get tight and squeeze that dick in a hurry.

"Slip it back in," you told Liz after a few thrusts down her throat, as she lined up your monster dick right back into Yujin's rectum. Liz dove herself into Yujin's meaty cunt as she watched her unnie's moans get louder. You sodomized Yujin like your life was on the line, pushing deeper even with her tight anus giving you a lot of resistance, grabbing her waist for a firm grip as your balls slapped into her cunt and Liz's chin.

Yujin's butthole squeezed your cock so hard that you were forced to stop, using Liz's mouth as a little relief. Little did you know, she was ready to milk you dry. "Put it back in her ass," you ordered, dodging a premature ejaculation straight inside Liz's warm throat just by a second.

You kissed Yujin as you slowly slid your cock back into her asshole, her moaning a lot as Liz increased the heat down her folds. Yujin put one of her knees in the couch's arm, letting you penetrate her butthole easily with one leg fully spread. You gave her some spanks as she moaned with your thrusts and Liz's tongue, sending her to the heavens.

"Oh yeah, fuck, go deep like that," Yujin ordered as the butt-fucking veered into an animalesque turn, with you treating her anus like your fleshlight and her like your slutty puppy. "Spread those legs," you told her, slowing down to let her put both knees on the couch's arm without ever pulling out of her tight ass. As Liz put her head on Yujin's back, you had some fun taking some ass-to-mouth turns between them, with Liz's throat always putting you on edge.

"Gape this slut's ass for me," you ordered to Liz. You could go all day long just fucking Yujin's butt; she was so incredibly tight that each pump gave you a tingling sensation and an increased urge to go harder. Yujin starts howling like a puppy as you destroy her asshole, only stopping to give Liz a taste of it as a reward for helping you.

"AH. AH. AH. AH. AH. WOOF. WOOF. WOOF." Yujin goes from a moaning mess into a barking puppy as you fuck her even harder. Liz gets all the kisses while she gets all the pounding. You push this anal whore to the limit, all while Liz and you treat each other like romantic lovebirds, enjoying watching their little toy suffer.

You finally stop fucking Yujin's ass after 10 long minutes. Even an experienced anal slut like her couldn't handle your nine inches stretching her out nonstop. "Lay on the couch's arm," you tell Liz, who fustigates you with lustful eyes, spreading her legs as you kiss Yujin. "Lick her pussy, get her ready," you say, diving Yujin's face into Liz's cunt as you get ready to fuck your "girlfriend." Liz moans as you use Yujin's pussy itself as a training ground, taking her tight, meaty hole with slow but deep pumps.

"She's already moaning like that, and I'm not even inside her," you say. "That puppy must be a good kitty eater," you praise Yujin as you keep working up and down her kitty. You and Yujin team up on Liz, with her unnie fucking her pussy with her fingers while you shove yours up her little asshole. "That's so tight, I want to stretch it out," you say as soon as your fingers slide up Liz's tiny anus.

"Stick those fingers in my ass; I love it. Yes, Yujin, keep eating my pussy, ahhhh." Liz enjoys all the attention you two give her, getting on the edge just with your fingers and Yujin's mouth working all over her little holes. You increase the pace on Yujin's pussy, driving her head closer to Liz's body. Yujin ends up being the powerful force that links both of your orgasms, as you coat her pussy full of cum while Liz squirts all over her face.

With your cock still hard, you move from one pussy to another, taking Liz by yourself as she's already throbbing and in position. "I love you, I love your cock," Liz says as you start fucking her in missionary. Yujin gets by her side and starts fingering the youngster's pussy as she takes your cock. "Look at the perfect pink pussy." You praise Liz's tight hole as you stretch it out. "Toy with my pussy; take it deeper," Liz responds, feeling very needy of your big cock.

You decide to tease her a bit instead, feeding Liz's juices into Yujin's mouth. "Give me back your cock, please," Liz starts to beg, but Yujin wants it all by herself. You have to take it out of her sight and push it back inside Liz. "Like that, OH FUCK!" Liz says rightly after, moaning even louder as Yujin spanks her cheeks. "Fuck me harder and deeper," Liz demands for more, and you give her, stretching her kitty out even harder than you did to Yujin's ass. Yujin ponders where Liz learned all this dirty stuff. She's really been hanging out with Rei and Wonyoung too much lately, right? These two sluts taught her everything.

"Destroy my pussy, yes," Liz keeps demanding. The floor makes a loud noise as the couch moves with each thrust. You take Liz full force, pounding her pussy with no regard. She really wants to prove herself to be a whore on the same level as her unnies. Her tight pussy squeezes your cock and sucks it like a black hole. But you're ready to try something else now.

"Give me her ass," you ask Yujin, who, just like Liz did before to her, lines your cock to Liz's virgin anal entrance. You are completely unaware Liz has never taken it in the ass before, and watching the way she behaves today makes you assume she would have no issue. Her never-fucked hole is insanely tight, making you wonder how long you're going to last inside it. But all that goes out of the window with just one phrase from Yujin.

"Destroy her ass," Yujin demands. Yujin knows this won't be easy for Liz, sitting on top of her face, attempting to cover any of her struggles for you not to see. "Eat my pussy and my small butt," she tells Liz. "Small?" you asked, confused. "It's just an internal joke between us," Yujin laughs.

Liz's tight virgin ass leads you to start slower, as it proves to be a challenge to stretch it out. She lets out some moans that are muffled into Yujin's pussy, feeling a little pain but getting slowly adjusted. Yujin grinds on Liz's face as she enjoys looking at your cock stretching the youngster's ass. You pump a little faster as Yujin starts massaging Liz's chest. Her moans get more painful, and feelings of regret run through her head. "Rei and Wonyoung are a bunch of liars; this hurts," she thinks to herself.

You get another close call as Liz's ass squeezes your cock, using her pussy as a relief in the absence of any mouth in the vicinity. Yujin senses it and offers to suck your cock. Liz feels relieved as she gets a break to breathe. Yujin takes your cock deep in her throat, buying some extra time for Liz to recover, spitting on your dick as you go back inside the youngster's butt.

Yujin closes Liz's legs, leading to her hole tightening. Liz clings all the way to Yujin's ass on her face as you push deeper into hers. Every pump you give her feels like a shot; one minute of anal penetration feels like 10 hours. Yujin kisses you, still trying to distract you from Liz's struggle. She finally lets you see Liz's red face. "Yes, please, just like that," Liz lies, giving you incentives to fuck her harder. She doesn't want to look defeated in front of Yujin. She doesn't want her leader to poke fun of her, so she keeps going.

Liz would soon regret her decision as you manhandled her virgin anus full stop. "AH. AH. AH. AH. AH, FUCK. TAKE ME LIKE THAT!" She screamed in pain, her face twisting and turning even redder. Her tiny boobs jiggle nonstop. Yujin tries to offer a little help, but she knows inniations can be hard and, in the end, just lets Liz take it by herself.

"PLEASE DON'T STOP. I'M BEGGING YOU, FUCK ME LIKE A TOY," Liz screams, even though she wanted the opposite. Yujin just pinches her nipples. In the end, she knows Liz is doing well. All anal sluts are forged through pain; it's a prerequisite to the pleasure of taking it up the butt. She knows that if Liz survives your rough pounding, she can take any cock in the ass after that.

"I WANT MORE, I WANT MORE," Liz screams. "GIVE IT ALL IN MY ASS. PLEASE," she keeps lying to herself, trying not to look weak in front of Yujin. Her cheeks clap as you pump her even faster. "GO CRAZY ON ME," she keeps screaming. Yujin fingers her pussy to add some real pleasure to Liz.

"USE ME, FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF MY ASS," Liz keeps saying, posing as strong while almost dying inside. Yujin doesn't seem to bother at all anymore. This was the best initiation Liz could ever get—a big, foreign cock that has no fear of going hard. She wishes hers was like that; thankfully, he's a quick learner, and she knows so is Liz. 

Yujin sticks her fingers deep into Liz's kitty. "OH MY GOD!" Liz screams. But her innitiation is done. Her tight ass was truly blissful for you to stretch out. Yujin appears on top of her to be the first girl to taste the youngster's virgin butthole out of a cock. Liz clings onto you. Even though you destroyed the shit out of her, she isn't mad at you but rather pissed off at her groupmates for it. "I can't believe Yujin made me do this; I can't believe Rei and Wonyoung lied to me," she thinks to herself.

"Take me up in the air," Liz tells you. Truth be told, despite all the pain, she does love your cock a lot. You put it back in her pussy and lift her tall, long body up. Yujin just watches as Liz gets carry-fucked, clinging to your neck as you plow into her tight pussy. "Fuck me up like that," Liz says, still numb from the anal pounding she just took. Yujin approaches her and pushes a finger up Liz's ass, making the young girl get even clingier and instantly remember all the pain she just endured, kissing you to dissipate those thoughts.

Liz brings Yujin close to you while still riding your cock up in the air, as you three share a romantic kiss while you clap her pussy hard, flooding it with semen and fulfilling your dreams of breeding your cute girlfriend. Your white fluids spill down to the floor, and Yujin activates her puppy mode, getting on all fours like a dog to lick them all up, climbing up to also lick what got stuck into Liz's long legs. Liz herself then climbs out as you sit on the couch, and she licks your cock from top to bottom, thankful for filling her up the way you did.

Liz's initiation may be over, but Yujin wants more for her. She checks her phone, seeing there are still 30 minutes left before soundcheck—more than enough time to get stretched out, take a shower, and get ready after. Yujin sits on your lap and starts giving you her iconic thighjob, smiling as your cock gets harder and bigger each time she rubs her honey thighs against it. Once she feels you're ready, she sits her ass on your pole in one go. Liz joins in and sits on your face with her cream-filled pussy while pouring oil all over Yujin's "small" butt as the duo gets ready for more pleasures before soundcheck.

"Show me what you have; pump that ass hard and deep," Yujin demands as you start pushing your cock up her butt. You get so ahead of yourself that it slips out the first time. The oil Liz pours into Yujin's ass gets things even more slippery, but you overcome their challenge with your desire to stretch out that tall Korean girl's asshole. "I love watching you get impaled by that massive cock," Liz tells Yujin. "Bet you can't do it," Yujin replies, reminding who between the two is the experienced anal whore.

Yujin moans and barks as Liz spanks her butt, the oil spilling as you thrust upwards, your balls hitting her ass cracks. "Hmmm, bubble butt anal slut!" Liz laughs at her. "Getting stretched out by that big cock like a good puppy," she continues. "Keep going, baby; go crazy for that ass," Yujin says as she pushes you to the limits, her and Liz kissing each other on top of you.

Yujin takes advantage of you getting tired to take control of the bounce. Her endless stamina is just too much for you. Each time her butt hits your hips, it's like an earthquake. And you don't even have Liz's honey pussy to cling onto anymore, as she watches her unnie bouncing to learn a thing or two, hanging you out to dry. Yujin is so insane, it doesn't feel like you're impaling her ass, but rather that her ass is fucking the shit out of your cock.

Liz chimes in to taste her unnie's butthole juices, and soon as Yujin is done, You finger Yujin's asshole to admire the way your cock has shaped it. But, in reality, it was her ass that shaped your cock. "Let me put it back in your ass," Liz says. Yujin loves her initiative and is ready for more as soon as Liz slides it back inside.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Yujin curses as Liz takes the opportunity to slap her unnie's ass. As Yujin starts to pant, her asshole clenches and makes you cum for the third time on that day, as you couldn't resist her bombardment. That puppy and kitty are truly milking you dry. Liz is, as always, ready to taste that huge cock as soon as it comes out of her unnie's butthole.

But Yujin wants more, sitting on your lap and lifting her legs up, pushing your hands to grab her thighs. The way she looks at Liz sliding your cock back in is pretty telling; she's about to teach her the position that sets the top anal whores apart from the others. "Lick my pussy, Lizzie," she orders as you put her under a full nelson. Your cock hits Liz's right in the chin at full speed as she pleases her unnie, who's now turned into a submissive anal fleshlight for you to fuck until you get tired—well, even after you get tired.

Yujin dunks Liz's head into her pussy as her ass gets drilled more than the net of a basket during Steph Curry's 3-point practice. "Fuck me, fuck me, woof, woof, woof," Yujin says out of breath as your cock and Liz's mouth give her immense pleasure. Liz moves a bit outside to finger her unnie's cunt and let you plow her even harder. As you reach your hands wrapped under Yujin's thighs to grope her perky tits and pinch her nipples, Yujin becomes a squirting mess, showering Liz as soon as she gets her face close to Yujin's pussy.

This time, you're the one who starts barking. You thought you had endurance before Yujin, but her ass just milked you a second time in a row. You lift her legs up, letting the cum leak out of her anus right into your belly as Yujin laughs. For her, the more, the better. If her holes make a guy like you cum so easy, she must be doing something right.

"Good kitty licking all this cum like a whore," Yujin says to Liz as she makes sure to lick her unnie clean, sweeping all of your semen that drops out of Yujin's fuckholes, and even diving inside to get a taste of Yujin's nasty, cream-filled holes for herself.

Your cock is flaccid, but you're so addicted to Yujin's ass that you keep pushing inside just for the sake of it. You know there isn't much time left, so you want to enjoy every second you get inside of it. "Let's get him hard again; I know he still has some left in the tank," Liz says as Yujin pulls out and both team up on your cock.

Liz's deepthroat is enough to bring your cock back to life, as her wonderful singing hole seems to have a magical grip over it. You push her face down your crotch further and further, wanting more and more of her tight throat, coming out of it with a throbbing cock that is ready for more. You then let Liz suck your balls, and Yujin took her turn tasting her butthole as you slapped her ass and fucked her face.

Yujin places her hands all over Liz's pussy with your cock still pounding her mouth. "KEEP DOING THIS, FUCK!" Liz screams as her unnie's stimulation makes her squirt all over the floor. 

"Stand up, baby." You aren't done with Yujin, putting her on all fours as you go back in her ass. Liz helps spread her unnie's cheeks out for you as you slowly push it back up Yujin's butt. "Fuck her like a good puppy," Liz says. "Give me that perfect view of your dick going inside her ass," she continues. Yujin fingers herself as you fuck her gently this time, already almost out of stamina, kissing Liz up top and playing with her little titties. Seeing those two playing with each other makes Yujin a little jealous, so she decides to ask a question.

"Hey Liz, don't you think it's time you try it again?" Yujin says. Liz's facial expression suddenly changes. She thought it would be a one-and-done thing. Initially, so did Yujin, but she started feeling a bit sadistic and wetting herself over the thought of seeing Liz get destroyed.

Yujin went under Liz's long legs as you went back in her pussy, tasting the last remnants of cum you had left there earlier. After some training, you switch back to Liz's ass. Shivers went down her spine, but this time she settled down rather quickly. "Stick it my ass, please," she said, honestly, this time, albeit still clinging onto you for some kissing in case she felt pain. Yujin this time wasn't going to make it easy for her, diving straight down her folds to make her already spread legs under the couch's arm weaker.

You grabbed Liz's tits as you pushed deeper into her asshole. The pain was suddenly gone. Liz could finally understand what her groupmates were talking about. She had passed her innitiation, her second time taking it in the ass, feeling like a bliss that she wanted to go on forever.

"Oh fuck, I love it. I love it," Liz said as you kept fucking her ass. This time, she meant it. Yujin fingering and eating her out down low, you grabbing her tits up top—this was the best experience she could have had. Suddenly, her regret was about taking so long to do it first. For all those months that Rei and Wonyoung could brag to her face that they could do what she couldn't,.

"FUCK ME UP!" Liz screams. Yujin now just feels like a proud mommy, enjoying herself eating Liz's out as another girl under her wing blossoms into a sexy slut. Liz lifts her right leg as she enjoys her orgasm with the touch of Yujin's hands, standing on just one leg as you stretch her ass out. "You're so fucking good inside me," she says.

Yujin pinches Liz's tits as she kisses the youngster. Her body language of kissing and cuddling tells Liz she has passed the test. The two get back on the couch, with Yujin on top of Liz this time, as you take turns ramdomly striking their holes. That manages to milk you for one final time, as you struggle to pick which hole to finish, ultimately giving the prize to Yujin's golden ass that you loved so much, but this time on the outside, as you coat her butt with your seeds, finally running out of cum.

"Lick my small butt," Yujin tells Liz as the young girl is quick to place her tongue between Yujin's fat cheeks while her unnie shakes her tail, serving her perfectly. Yujin approaches you once Liz is done, ending the session. "We have to go now," she says. "But I want you to stay for the concert," she continues. "I'll bring you three more girls to fuck at night," she says as your eyes get brighter in a snap.

Epilogue

The concert goes on perfectly—another sold-out crowd for Ive in their successful world tour. The girls are glowing, but Yujin and Liz are in a league of their own. Still sweaty from the concert, Yujin approaches you after: "Meet us right here.".

Gaeul, Rei, and Wonyoung join her and Liz this time. You feel blessed to have such beautiful girls ready to serve you. After some games and a little warm-up, the five girls are all completely naked. Then, Yujin finally asks.

"Who wants to go first?"

Wonyoung gets ready to start it like always, but another girl jumps ahead of her. "I think this is the first time you wanted to go first," Rei says to Liz. "Indeed, she's quite shy," Wonyoung continues. 

Liz moves in your direction and, just like in the afternoon, slides your huge cock deep inside her, but this time straight in her ass. The other girls get awed, as Liz has always avoided any kind of anal sex.

"Girls, let's just sit and watch; this is going to be special," Yujin said, sitting straight on your face and getting a privileged view for herself. Gaeul joins her to the side as Yujin starts fingering her sunbae's pussy.

Liz rides you with ease, taking it to the fullest. The other girls just can't believe it.

"How did she get this good this early? We have to step our game up." Rei chats with Wonyoung. "Either way, we can finally do a 2004 line anal foursome now," Wonyoung lets her dirty thoughts out.

Just like in the afternoon, you don't last long, coating Liz's anal insides after she rides your cock into oblivion. Four more baddies to go.

"My turn next," you hear someone say. It's Wonyoung. She better finish soon, because Rei is already waiting.

"Look what you did, Yujin—you turned all those pretty young girls into cock whores," Gaeul says.

"I'm so proud of myself for that," Yujin laughs. Indeed, no one is better at rookie initiations than her.

[hotpinkboots]

I've said it before and I'll say it again: WHERE'S ALL THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW FANFIC?? If you don't write it then I will RAAAAHH throw in some RHPS requests!

[delirious-donna]

Kento finds your journal and vows to return it, but not before he accidentally sneaks a peek… or, the time he read that you wanted to climb him like a tree.

Oh fuck - no! No no no. Please don’t have read it. I’ll do all my weekend chores rather than playing videogames and I’ll even unpack that final box that has been sitting in the spare room if you’ll do me this one solid favour.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

tw: embarrassing situations, teacher Kento and teacher reader, thigh riding, use of pet names (darling and sweetheart), dirty talk, Kento being more forward than usual, rewrite of an old story (it’s better now, promise), brief appearance of Satoru

The notebook caught his eye; magenta in colour, clearly well-thumbed and definitely not meant to be here, in the teacher’s lounge. He rolled his neck against the uncomfortably lumpy couch until the cracking noise of stiff joints popping made him wince.

With a resigned grunt, Kento sat forward and glanced at his watch.

His next class was due to begin in ten minutes and if he were honest, he felt rather unmotivated to inspire the next generation on this particular day, a feeling that was becoming painfully regular. Fixing the knot of his tie, which he had loosened upon entering the lounge, he lamented on how every day seemed to bleed into each other.

It had been so stiflingly long since anything new or of interest had occurred and he was starting to feel drained from the mundane, walking through each day like a zombie. Heaven help him, it was a frighteningly familiar feeling.

On his way towards the door, he picked up the offending notebook that was stuck between the couch cushions and glanced at it curiously. Your name was emblazoned on the front cover, written in glittery silver ink. Nanami passed a finger over the lettering, his lips tilting into a thin smile at how irreverent it appeared.

He knew you were a few years younger than he was, that you had only become a teacher at the start of this academic year after a sudden change in career, and to say you were a little shy would be a gross understatement. Kento could probably count the times you had spoken to him on one hand, and each one had been a rushed experience, as if you couldn’t wait to retreat from his presence–was he really that intimidating?

At that rather depressing thought, he resumed walking, intent on delivering your notebook before arriving at his own classroom to greet his darling little bastards charges for the afternoon lecture.

Of course, things would never be that simple, nor straightforward when you worked alongside Satoru Gojo.

The white-haired whirlwind hurtled into him as soon as he ventured into the hall. A barking laugh bounced off the walls as Gojo clapped him heartily on the back and effectively knocked the notebook from his grasp to flutter to the floor.

“Ah, Nanami-san, just the man I was looking for,” he thundered. “Could you do your bestest friend in the whole world a favour?”

“If you are referring to yourself with that sentiment, Gojo, then the answer is of course, no.”

Satoru pouted, Kento grimaced.

Celestial blue eyes peered over the rim of his round sunglasses whilst Kento bent to retrieve the book that had tumbled out of his hands and was now spread open at his feet. His eyes narrowed on the hastily scrawled text that he couldn’t quite make out, but… that was his name that he was staring at.

He was aware that Satoru was still talking, the man would continue to ramble away to himself forever, but Kento held his hand aloft to cease the incessant drone.

A strange, but not unpleasant heat coursed through his veins, and something he hadn’t felt in the longest time stirred in his chest. The wild thump of his heart drowned out his pesky colleague’s yammering as he was finally able to read the line of text that referred to him. A sentence that you had hastily scrawled and then ringed again and again with a fluffy cloud border.

Why does Nanami-san have to be so goddamn big and sexy? What I wouldn’t give to climb him like a tree…

He was sure that he could feel the warmth spread up his neck, his collar suddenly too tight, and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the runny saliva pooling inside his mouth.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t admired you, although always from afar. He knew he wasn’t the most social of men, a sentiment his annoying friend constantly reminded him of. Added to the fact that Kento had been sure you were terrified of him, and he had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable, he kept his distance and his daydreaming to himself and the privacy of his bedroom and shower.

Only now, did he wonder if that discomfort had been something else entirely…

“Will you do it?” Satoru asked, shaking his arms with his long spindly fingers and offering a wide cocky smile.

“I wasn’t listening, and no. I’m going to be busy,” he replied, brushing his fellow teacher’s hand from his forearms and pushing past him to his classroom.

He could care less for the deflated look that the snowy-haired menace threw over his shoulder, there were more important matters on his mind and a knowing smirk curved his lips. The smirk was mirrored by the very man he gave his back to, and that was just fine in his book.

No longer did he detour to return the notebook. Oh no--he’d deliver it back to you safe and sound once the day was over and everyone else had cleared out.

~

It had been a long day. A tiring one too, and the prospect of spending your precious evening hours behind your desk marking exams and writing assignment commentary was unwelcome.

As if the universe could hear your lament, they sent you a curve ball you could never see coming…

A determined knock shook you from your thoughts. The pen in your hand fell to the desk at the same moment you leaned back in your chair, inviting your unexpected visitor to enter.

Your mouth ran dry as the very man you least expected to be calling in on you, walked inside. Least expected but most wanted, secretly, of course. There was no way you were earning yourself a reputation for flirting with your colleagues, even if he was so painfully handsome it made you chew the insides of your cheeks every time you were in his presence. Not because you were shy, because you were a little, but because you didn’t trust what might come out of your mouth! Best to keep those thoughts inside your head where they were safe.

Kento turned to shut the door, the lock flicking silently into place so as to avoid any embarrassing interruptions, before he bowed his head in greeting.

“Nanami-san, what can I do for you?” you asked, impressed that you had managed to speak without tripping over your words. It was certainly an improvement on previous attempts.

It was near impossible not to admire him as he stood near the back of the class. The collar of his azure dress shirt had been loosened, the tie askew as if he had been pulling at them both with insistent fingers. Fingers that were currently drumming against the taut muscles of his forearms. There was something about a man with his sleeves rolled to the elbows that never failed to send you into a feral kind of heat, and right now was no different.

Why did he have to look so downright tantalising? Why did your thighs have to clench together like you were some horny beast in an actual heat?

The aloof expression, the way that he seemed to caress you with his hazel eyes and the simple pleasure of how big he was. At the end of the day, you were no better than an animal, and you animal brain was saying that big was good. Big would rock your world given the chance.

“I found something that belongs to you and thought I should return it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh? That’s kind of you, what is it?”

You wondered what he could have found, mentally scanning your memory of something you might have misplaced or been looking for. Standing, you took two steps forward but froze in place at the sight of your personal notebook held in his large hand. Surely your heart had seized in your chest, it certainly felt like it had.

Oh fuck - no! No no no. Please don’t have read it. I’ll do all my weekend chores rather than playing videogames and I’ll even unpack that final box that has been sitting in the spare room if you’ll do me this one solid favour.

Your eyes widened, looking from the notebook to his face and back again. For a second you thought your silent pleas had been answered, but when had life ever been so benevolent to you before? Kento winked almost imperceptibly, and you wished that a sink hole would form beneath your feet to save you from this mortification.

Heat rose to your cheeks in rushing waves. You swayed unsteadily on the spot with your hand outstretched for the book, desperate for some distance but needing the offending item back in your possession.

Kento chuckled and the deep baritone rumble felt as if the sound resonated within your own body. It stroked at you with exploratory phantom touches although he hadn’t moved. Your every muscle tightened whilst you waited for him to hand over the notebook that held some of your wildest fantasies.

When he held it over his head instead of depositing it into your awaiting sweaty paws, you swore it felt like the air was sucked from the room. It seemed like he had read a very specific piece of information, and you would die of embarrassment.

“I suggest…” he drawled almost lazily. “That if you want it back, you best climb me for it.”

“You—you weren’t meant to read that,” you whispered, staring into the depths of the floor.

A pair of sturdy but unassuming boots came into view. You frowned, surprised.

Two fingers fit beneath your chin and raised your head up to meet his gaze. There was a prominent frown between his eyes that hadn’t been there seconds prior, and you couldn’t help but admire his sharply angular face even if you were doing your best to look anywhere but into his eyes.

“I apologise… perhaps that was a bit too forward. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you see... I’ve thought about you a lot and not just because I found your notebook? Journal? Doesn’t matter.” Kento exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “You think I’m big? I don’t see it myself, but then I was never my best critic.”

You nodded in affirmation, where was the point in denying it now? His eyes softened, crinkles forming in the outer corners whilst his thumb lightly grazed your jaw. Roasted coffee grounds and notes of sandalwood invaded your nose as his head bent lower, towards your ear.

“Then I will repeat myself only once, sweetheart, climb me if you want it back.”

And so, you did.

You climbed him like a feral little animal.

You reached the offending notebook and hurled it to the floor without a second thought. His laughter was warm and the most boisterous you had heard from him. It made you follow through with your impulse to hook your arms around his strong neck, fingers curling into the rough undercut at his nape. Your legs were quick to follow, circling his waist until your entire front rocked into the wall of muscles that was his body.

“Tell me, what else have you put in that saucy little journal about me, hm?”

“You didn’t read it all?” you asked, almost shocked at his level of restraint if it were true.

Kento shook his head, and you believed him. He wasn’t one for lying. “I wanted to hear them from your mouth.”

“Oh… that’s… mm. Anyone ever told you that you’re as perfect as a fictional man, preferably one created by a woman? Don’t answer that,” you clamoured, pressing your hand across his mouth as it stretched open to reply.

“There’s—uh—this one thing.” You nudged the tip of his nose with yours, moving to speak directly into his ear.

Kento’s breath caught in his throat as you whispered about getting off on his thigh, his hold at your waist, which has stayed appropriate until then, tightened and moved towards your backside—squeezing.

With you still attached to him like a koala, he seated himself on the edge of your desk, lowering you until you were spread over one of his incredibly thick thighs. Your skirt bunched around your middle to accommodate the position as his expansive palms wandered your sides, pawing at your hips and palming your ass with a groan.

In no time at all he was dragging you along the length of his thigh. Your underwear was ruined by this point, your clit throbbed from the friction, the seam of yours and his clothing catching you in deliciously new ways and you still hadn’t kissed him.

You remedied this terrible oversight with enthusiasm, delighting when he startled at your forwardness before he melted, shoulders sagging. It was everything and more. No fantasy could live up to the reality. Kento kissed softly, thoroughly. Whilst he continued to lead the rhythm of your body as you rode his thigh, he was more than happy to let you lead here.

His mouth was surprisingly hot for a man who always seemed to remain cool and composed, a deep groan rumbled in his throat when you curled around his tongue and sucked on the warm, wet muscle. The warmly spiced scent and taste of Kento filled your lungs and evaporated any sense of reason you might have had about making out with a fellow teacher in your classroom. It didn’t matter. Only this mattered.

“Feel good?” he asked as you parted for much-needed air. His rough fingers gripped into the fat of your behind, reaching beneath the hem of your skirt to bunch the cotton of your underwear until he was forcing the material between your slick pussy lips.

You nodded enthusiastically, drawing his lower lip into your mouth and sucking on the tender flesh in earnest. Kento was manhandling you in a way that would make any staunch feminist blanch, but it was exactly what you wanted, exactly what you needed.

“You’re making a mess on me, darling.”

“So, I’m you’re darling, am I?” You quipped back despite sounding out of breath. He was right about the mess, there was an embarrassingly long wet streak on his tailored slacks from being manipulated along his thigh. You were fucking yourself against the strong muscles that flexed beneath you and leaving the evidence for anyone to see.

“I think I’d like that,” he admitted with a hum, planting kisses to your neck and collarbone.

Your orgasm was coming in fast; the combination of the friction against your clenching cunt, the large palms gripping into your ass as if he owned it and his delicious mouth teasing your skin was speeding you towards the finish line in haste. His admittance that he might like some kind of relationship with you was the final nail in your coffin, so to speak.

“Nanami-san!”

Blond hair fell into your vision, urgent lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cleavage and the swell of your breasts. His tongue flickered at your flesh, warming you up before sucking possessive purple bruises that would be hard to explain later.

“Kento,” he breathed against your collarbone, “call me Kento, my darling.”

Gods, could he be any more perfect? It was as if he knew exactly what to do and say to set you off like a firecracker!

You shrieked in surprise when Kento lifted you like you weighed nothing—you most definitely did not weigh nothing. He held you tight as he turned your body so your back was flush with his chest, rearranging you over his broad thigh once more but this time you could feel the prod of his prominent erection at the outside of your hip. It was thick and imposing, distracting but only in that you wondered what it would look like, feel like—in your hand and stretching your walls.

“Go on, be a good girl and get yourself off on my thigh,” he cooed, nipping at your earlobe.

Kento grabbed at your breasts, squeezing the doughy mounds between his fingers whilst you rode his thigh to completion, pinching you through lace and chiffon. The orgasm that hit was staggering; it stole the air from your lungs, the equilibrium of your body and the sight from your eyes.

White lights pulsed behind your eyelids as you gushed like a surging waterfall over his trousers, ruining your underwear and skirt in the process. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't for the primal-sound growl that emanated from his chest. The almost bestial sounding war cry that made you shiver whilst you floated back down from ecstasy.

“Atta girl. There it is. Mhm, so good for me. So receptive. Can I take you home?” Kento asked, his voice thick and strained with unspoken emotion. “Cause I think it’s my turn now, and I can't wait to see how goddamn perfect you’re gonna look taking my cock.”

You smiled, drunk on the bliss. “Sure thing, big boy, but let’s not make this our get together story for the grandkids, yeah?”

You were so glad he found your notebook, even if you had no idea that it was Satoru Gojo that you needed to thank in the first place...

[tender-rosiey]

frenzy— gojo satoru x gn!reader

a/n: yet another silly thing with megumi and gojo to fill space while I finish other stuff

you take a deep breath before staring in front of you.

you’re going to murder someone, particularly a 6 foot 5 man with hair similar to that of a paintbrush.

the only problem is that he is your fiancé and you would probably be the first suspect when they investigate the oh so mysterious murder—if the daggers you’re glaring are anything to go by.

the second suspect is probably the 11 year old next to you, also known as megumi.

satoru is causing yet another scene as he purchases his favorite sweets from the cute old lady at your local shop.

his face is stuck to the glass as he grins, “I will take this, this, this, oo and that! and lastly that!”

“can’t we leave him?” the boy grumbles.

you sigh, “unfortunately not.”

“babe! honey! sweetheart! I got you some stuff!” he appears right in front of your eyes with frankly more sweets and food than you physically stomach.

he rummages around the bags, “I know this is your favorite, especially this!”

sighing, you cup his face and make him stare you dead in the eyes, “stop spending so much money! I don’t need that much!”

he pouts and his arms wrap around your waist, “what’s the point of my money if I can’t spoil you with it?” he feels the stare of megumi then looks down and scowls at him, “what do you want?”

megumi rolls his eyes and looks away, radiating so much sass and it offends your fiancé beyond words.

satoru gasps then props his hands on his lips, “I got you this limited edition pistachio cupcake! be thankful!”

megumi’s eyes snap to satoru’s and retorts, “it isn’t thanksgiving.”

satoru quirks an eyebrow and uses his hand to fan the air towards his nose. he takes a deep breath and puts his hands together, “I smell…bitch!”

“satoru!”

“sorry!”

they have a glaring contest for a small while, and you simply take some of the bags from satoru’s hand and make your way down the street.

it doesn’t take long before a pair of small feet makes its way into your peripheral and another gigantic pair follows suit.

satoru effortlessly takes the bags from you, carrying them in one arm, while his other one is linked with your own. on the other hand, megumi’s hand gently slips into your own. you give his hand a little squeeze and he gladly returns it back.

satoru has his infinity turned off because what could go wrong in a peaceful moment like this?

a screech is heard from your side. it’s girly, squeaky, and so high pitched to the point you want to smack its owner so badly.

unfortunately though, it’s your fiancé, and he is being ruthlessly attacked by a squirrel

it probably fell from the tree above, but why would it attack satoru?

probably because the idiot accidentally kicked the tree and, as a result, made the poor thing’s entire stock of food fall the ground, crumbled and unusable for poor mister squirrel.

karma is a bi—biscuit. a very bad biscuit.

“y/n, get it off!”

“you’ve been chosen as a sacrifice for the squirrel king, satoru.”

“but—“

“oh thank heavens! we will finally get rid of him,” megumi murmurs.

“why you little bra—AH!”

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