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celestie0 · 9 hours ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch6. the in-laws

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 6/x

ᰔ words. 12.6k

a/n. hiii my ihm lovelies!! hope you all had a great holiday season. i wanted to get this chapter out as a christmas gift but i failed and then i wanted to get it out as a new years post but failed and then i got food poisoning yesterday and while i was rotting in bed i ended up finishing the chapter LOL. it seems i can only write when i'm under duress? but anywho. hope you enjoy haha and see you at the bottom!

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“Alright, let’s head out,” you hear Gojo say from the bottom of the staircase, followed by the sound of dress shoes on the hardwood floor, and you glance over to see him clad in a navy suit with a white button up shirt that had one singular button undone. He’s messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way over to you. You catch the scent of his cologne, and it’s alarming how familiar it’s become to you.

Days go by shorter lately, mainly because it’s winter, and so the sun has almost fully set by 6pm. The sky outside is a dark hue of purple, seen past the windows of Gojo’s house, and the warm, dim lighting inside makes you feel strangely nostalgic. Like in a way that feels like home.

You tirelessly tousle with your hair at the mirror hanging above the foyer table that was snug up against the wall at the front entrance. Your hair wasn’t cooperating. You attempted to curl it, for the first time in forever given you can’t remember the last time you had enough time to do your hair, so you were out of practice. It was obvious, given the way some strands were curled outwards from your face, some inwards, some straighter than others, some curlier than others, and you were about to have a full blown mental breakdown before you remember your grounding exercises– 1, 2, 3, 4.

You turn to face Gojo, who you saw in the mirror was standing behind you and watching you with amusement, and you breathe in deep. “How do I look?” you ask, petting down the fabric of your dress as you face him. The thought occurs to you–why do you give so much of a fuck how you look right now? It’s just Gojo’s family. It’s not like they’re actually your in-laws. And from what Gojo’s mother had told you, it was just an intimate little get-together with Sana’s family. It’s really not a big deal. Yet the necessity to impress still consumes you.

Gojo threads his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilts his head to assess your appearance, and you watch his gaze trace the frame of you. “Nice,” he says, “you look nice.”

“That’s it? Just nice?”

“Well, I tried to call you hot earlier, but it got me yelled at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your purse off the foyer table, “okay, whatever, I’ll take it.” And then you head towards the front door. You hear the jingle of car keys from behind you as they’re shoved into a pocket.

The outside air is chilly in a way that’s almost sobering. Gojo opens the door for you to get inside his car and the warmth of your peach cobbler in your lap comforts some of the nerves you felt. By the time Gojo clicks his seatbelt into place in the driver seat, you realize you’ve never been in his car before, or driven anywhere by him before.

The interior smells of pine and something more familiar too, with sleek leather seats that are so comfortable they make you feel like you’re floating. You know it’s a Benz, you’re just not sure what year or model, and you’d usually ask most people out of a friendly curiosity, but for some reason your pride always got the best of you when it came to him.

“I seriously can’t wait to eat that thing you made,” Gojo comments after he’s backed out of the driveway, “it looks really nice.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you ask him, glancing over at him, and you try not to stare at the strong one-handed grip he has on the steering wheel as he corrects it.

“Oh yeah,” he answers, “big time.”

“You don’t seem like it,” you mindlessly say, turning your head to glance out into the dim street, passing by houses that idly sit in this neighborhood.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“You seem to maintain a steady weight,” you politely comment.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just science. Hard to maintain a build if you eat a lot of sugar.”

He turns onto the mainroad, and you keep your gaze plastered to the outside. “I seem to manage.”

“It’s because you're tall. Tall people get to eat whatever they want.”

You see him nod his head once in your periphery, and you take it as some form of dismissal. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take terribly long to get to Gojo’s parents’ house, just a thirty-five minute drive without traffic. He kept surprisingly silent throughout most of it, and the few moments you did glance at his face, you could even say he looked like he was deep in thought. With a creased brow, a grip on the steering wheel that sometimes faltered, sometimes strengthened, but rarely fully eased. It was all so different from his usual impulse to talk. You know that you often wish for Gojo to shut the fuck up sometimes, but the silence seemed unsettling today.

His parents’ house is large, maybe twice the size of the homes in your neighborhood, but it’s tucked away in a slightly remote area, where the next closest house is about a quarter of a mile down the road. The driveway is long and runs downhill, so you stumble a little on the high heel of your shoe when you step down onto the pebbled pavement, but Gojo holds your elbow so you don’t fall onto your face. And also so you don’t drop the peach cobbler he so desperately wants to try. You’re not sure which of the two was the bigger priority for him.

As you two walk up the driveway towards the front entrance, you hear him sigh behind you. “Just so you know, my mom doesn’t really have any sense of boundaries.”

“Ah,” you comment, “nice to know where you get it from.”

He gives you an irritated look, seen in the corner of your eye, and it’s hard to fight the small amused smile that makes its way onto your face.

He sighs again as you two make it to the top of the steps. “Seriously, though. Chances of you wanting to leave me after this dinner are high.”

“Why? You’ve got a hot older brother I don’t know about or something?”

“I am the hot older brother,” he tells you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and then face him fully. “You’re not the first guy that’s warned me about his parents, okay? I’ll handle my own. What good is life if your in-laws–er, fake in-laws–aren’t at least a little strange?”

He lifts his finger to the doorbell, and just before pressing it, he says, “alright, then.”

It only takes twelve seconds for the door to swing open, the aroma of fresh herbs and something more sultry like vetiver arouse your senses, along with a warmth beckoning you from the inside of the home.

Gojo’s mother stands at the doorway, surrounded by a halo of warm lighting, and her face instantly morphs into one of delightful glee.

“Oh! My dear, you’ve made it!” she exclaims happily, and just when you think she’s about to pull Gojo in for a hug, she pulls you in for one first instead, which startles you. “How lovely!”

“Oh—” you stutter, stumbling slightly as your nose becomes buried in the fluff of her silk pressed hair, but the delicate fragrance of lilac is somehow comforting.

She pulls you away to hold you by your shoulders. “You poor thing, you’re shivering! Come inside.” She hastily ushers you inside and you can feel the heat from Gojo’s body as he follows closely on your tail.

When his mother closes the door behind you, you find yourself surrounded by the kind of warmth only a house could provide.

You take a small look around the foyer, noticing that it’s large with tones of deep wood and a bright white and golden chandelier that hangs daintily above in the cavity of the high ceilings. Leather, wood, velvet, silk, these are the textures that you see as you look around. It’s an old-fashioned taste, with a polished grand piano off to the right in the hall and display cases of vintage dolls and porcelain plates. So very different from modern, but it’s comforting. Like a wave of nostalgia, but from something you’ve never experienced before.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Gojo asks with curiosity lilting her voice as she walks up to you and points at the casserole dish you were holding.

“Oh, it’s peach cobbler,” you say, holding it up slightly with a small smile adorning your face, “for dessert.”

“How sweet! You’re an angel,” she coos, then twists her torso towards the kitchen, “honey! Come here, will you?”

Shuffling down the hallway from the heart of the house is, who you presume to be, Mr. Gojo. He’s tall, with his shoulders slightly curved forward as he approaches you all, and you note that he looks more aged than his missus.

“Ah, this must be my new daughter-in-law,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly from years of use. You smell the faintest hint of smoke from his clothing.

You glance at Gojo, who is watching you interact with his parents, an unreadable expression on his face as his hands remain shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

Mr. Gojo takes the peach cobbler from you and gives you a curt smile before taking it back towards the kitchen.

“Darling, I must say, you have a lovely figure—” Gojo’s mother begins to say, reaching her hand out to hover it over the curve of your waist, but just at that moment, Gojo comes up to stand in between the two of you.

“Alright, what time’s dinner?” he asks.

Mrs. Gojo glances up at him, her face immediately twisting into a frown. “Nevermind that. I want to take y/n with me back to the kitchen to help braise the chicken,” she says, grabbing a hold of your wrist and tugging you towards her.

“Oh—” you stumble slightly.

“Nope,” you hear Gojo say from beside you, and suddenly there’s a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back to his side, “she stays with me for the night.” You’d remember to blush at the feeling of being pressed flush up against him, but the shock overshadowed.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Gojo exclaims, rather loudly, and she lets out a hmph noise before placing her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m not gonna let you indoctrinate her into whatever multi-level marketing scheme you’ve fallen victim to this month,” he says, his hold on your waist tightening.

“How petulant!” she says, trying to manage a stern look but Gojo doesn’t seem fazed by it, “quit acting like I’m going to corrupt her! I’m not some witch.”

“Your track record would prove otherwise,” he comments.

“Oh please, the only other time was when you brought—”

She suddenly stops speaking, her eyes going wide, and she glances at you. You cluelessly tilt your head at her.

Ah. The other woman. This mysterious ex-wife. Would you be the other woman in this case? Seeing as to how his entire family seems to walk on eggshells about the subject around you. And they all seem to think that any mention of her would devastate you, when really, you and Gojo aren’t even actually lovers.

But there’s a small part of you,

A teeny tiny part,

Revealed from the way your heart sank at the realization of who his mother was referring to,

That actually does feel some type of way about it.

You want to know who this woman was to him. Does he still think of her? Does he still love her? What happened between them? Was she the one that got away? And how does he feel about the fact that he’s now here with you?

You shake your head vigorously to get those thoughts out of your head.

It was like method acting. You stepped into the role of wife this evening, and now you feel the way that they expect you to feel at the mention of your husband’s ex-lover.

That must be the reason, right?

You slowly push yourself out of Gojo’s hold, and you try not to become hyper aware of his eyes on you as you smooth out the fabric of your dress, then you glance at his mother.

“I’d love to help you braise the chicken,” you say.

There’s a brief silence as you find your voice in this house, and then Mrs. Gojo flashes you a grin.

“Come with me, honey,” she says before wrapping a delicate hand around your wrist and pulling you towards the heart of the house.

There are pictures hung up on the walls as you brush past every hallway, along with peeling wallpaper that is peppered with florals and striped prints, sanded off from years of shoulders brushing against their surfaces in a way that creates an old, dated charm. You learn quickly that Gojo has always been pretty tall, judging from the photo of him standing with, whom you assume are his middle school friends, out on a boat, holding a bass the size of a small child.

There’s photos of the four of them together, like one professionally taken photo where Gojo and Sana are knelt in front of their parents, and your gaze fixates on the strong grip Mr. Gojo has on his son’s shoulder, digging deep in the bone, creasing the fabric, almost desperately. Gojo looks young in the photo, maybe a recent high school graduate, and his smile is bright but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And, God, the trophies. The trophies that adorned the surfaces of aged cedar wood dressers, seemingly random in the order they are sprawled across the display yet you know there was intention behind it too. Ballet, soccer, tennis, spelling bee, FRC, even dragon boat racing.

“Feel free to take any of those home,” Mrs. Gojo says with a teasing tone, “you eventually get tired of staring at them.”

You wouldn’t know. Your mother never had much extra cash hanging around to take you to tennis lessons, or ballet lessons, or SAT prep, or whatever. You were lucky enough that you got into college with the cards you were dealt, but you sometimes wonder what your potential could’ve been if you had parents like Gojo did. Maybe the house you live in would be your own, and not something that your mother has spent the past forty years of her life trying to pay off. Maybe you’d have a freshly renovated kitchen and a pretty boat out on the street. But throwing a pity party for yourself right now wasn’t exactly going to get you through the evening.

Mrs. Gojo finally leads you into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh herbs overwhelms your senses.

“Smells wonderful,” you comment.

“I know,” she cheekily comments, “will you turn the meat please?”

You grab a pair of tongs and attempt to sear the cuts that were sizzling on the stove.

“Sooooo,” she coos, wasting no time to playfully bump her hip to yours, “how is married life?”

“Nice,” you respond, your cheeks warming slightly, “it’s nice.”

“It won’t always be that way, you know,” she muses with some underlying sense of sincerity that isn’t lost on you.

When you remain quiet, concentrating on the searing sizzling noises coming from the pan, she decides to keep speaking.

“Eventually, you two will settle in a little too much…start to care less about your bodies…and then, oh gosh, when kids come into the picture, forget about having any time for yourselves,” she continues, “some days you’ll resent him, others you’ll feel like it’s the first time all over again.” She sighs. “Marriage is a funny thing—”

“Mrs. Gojo,” you interrupt her, turning to face her, “I—…I really appreciate you, I do, but, um, I’ve already learned a lot already about marriage from my own parents. Things are fine between Satoru and me.” You look into her widened eyes. “And…if something does happen down the line, and we choose not to be together anymore, then that’s okay too.”

After all, you had to prepare her.

“But that’s the thing!” she chirps, “your generation is too—…too impatient. Unwilling to work anything out! A marriage is supposed to be hard, but also it’s something you aren’t supposed to give up on so easily.”

It’s your turn to meet her with widened eyes in response to her preaching, and her posture immediately deflates before she holds you gently by your arm.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know it’s too early to be saying all these things to you,” she says, managing a small smile, “I always forget that I’m too old to be doting on my children like this anymore.”

Your expression softens and you wrap your palm over her bony knuckles, feeling the thinness of the skin that stretches over them. In a brief glimpse, you see your own mother in Mrs. Gojo’s eyes, something familiar, a universal expression of the love a parent has for their child.

“Well…” you say after clearing your throat, “for what it’s worth, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Gojo.” You try to manage a small smile. “I’m—…I’m really happy with your son.”

It was hard to lie to someone like this, especially from the way there’s relief that floods her irises, a genuine feeling that is so hard to come by in these days of false niceties. You often wonder how far a single white lie can stretch before it shatters against its own resistance.

“That’s a relief,” she says, managing her own prim smile, “I’m so glad.”

The two of you finish up in the kitchen, and when you circle around back into the hall, you see Sana standing in the warmly lit family room with Gojo and their dad.

Sana catches your eye, and you purse your lips together hesitantly before walking up to her.

“Hey,” you say softly and she returns the small smile you give her.

“Hi,” she says back to you.

“Um, where’s Juno?” you ask, looking around.

“Oh, she has a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight,” Sana says, “Jun’s dropping her off, and then he’ll come by here later.”

“Ah, I see,” you comment, itching at your elbow from the awkwardness.

“Well,” Mr. Gojo says, gesturing towards the dining room, “let’s eat, shall we?”

The three of you nod at him.

It’s fascinating to watch how the family falls naturally into their chairs, an assigned seating pattern that stays consistent among all dining halls and rooms and tables in the world, one that every family has. Mr. Gojo sits at the head of the table, his wife to his left, his son to his right. Sana sits quaintly to her mother’s left, and you sit across from her to Gojo’s left. The one empty seat is left for the presence of Jun.

“Food looks wonderful, darling,” Mr. Gojo says before leaning over to place a kiss on her bashful cheek.

Your heart does something weird at the sight. A simultaneous twinge paired with a warmer feeling that follows. You hardly witnessed any affection within your household growing up, not between your parents at least, probably because you were young when they got divorced and so the turmoils and tribulations started long before you had any higher order of cognitive discernment beyond the childish interest in Disney princesses and The Backyardigans. For you, the only memories that last of your parents’ marriage are those that feel like nothing more than the frigidity of a business arrangement. Ironically similar to the one you were currently in with Gojo. Except at least yours hadn’t been initially built on a foundation of love and a promise to be there for one another until death did you two apart.

Death was knocking on your mother’s doorstep now. But your father was nowhere to be found. So much for a vow.

Mr. Gojo pours his son a glass of whiskey, single malt as read on the label. Mrs. Gojo pours you and Sana a glass of red wine, and you try to hide the grimace, because you would’ve much rather had the whiskey.

“To y/n,” Mr. Gojo says, raising his glass up into the air, “for being our newest addition to the family.”

You all clink your glasses together, then in a variety of pairings, the last one being the tap of Gojo’s glass against yours, before you all take a drink.

“So…” Mrs. Gojo speaks up, “exactly how long have the two of you been married?”

You glance at Gojo for help, which isn’t exactly an unsuspecting thing to do.

“Four weeks,” he says.

You watch Mrs. Gojo’s eyes twitch. You can understand. Her own son gets married and doesn’t tell her anything about it for four weeks after the wedding. Well, in your case, a courthouse arrangement.

“Where did you two go for your honeymoon?” she asks, and Mr. Gojo clears his throat.

You look at Gojo for help again, and mentally pinch yourself for not being more discreet about how fake this whole thing is.

But Gojo surprisingly looks at ease. “Greece,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Gojo’s body language turns to you, clearly irritated by her son’s short and curt answers. “Did you have a fun time, dear?”

“Oh! Yes, it was a very fun time. Definitely did all the newly wed stuff. Just as normal newlyweds do, you know. Because we are newlyweds,” you say through an awkward cough.

“Like…?” Mrs. Gojo pushes, and you can tell that she’s asking out of a genuine curiosity over the itinerary you two had allegedly carried out, but you crack under the pressure.

“W—…We made love,” you say, “we made lots and lots of love.”

The sound of silverware clanking onto ceramic plates startles you out of the blissful ignorance you had to the words that you had just said. Like you were so caught up in your mind about wanting to seem like an actual real life couple to his parents that you almost forgot about the number one social rule when meeting your (fake) significant other’s parents: no references to copulation.

You glance up to find Mrs. Gojo’s eyes are wide, a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks. The width of Mr. Gojo’s eyes match his wife’s except his expression is also duly accompanied by a furrowed, perplexed brow. Sana looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and trying hard to put on a poker face as she pretends like she didn’t just hear what you said.

You finally glance at Gojo, who’s looking at you with the most what the fuck? face you’ve ever seen someone make, and there’s concern on there somewhere too, like he’s not even fully convinced that you’re mentally sane at the moment because why on God’s green Earth would you say something like that at a family dinner table.

Trying your best to laugh it off, you say, “ah…ahaha, d-did I say make love? I meant–I meant that we–”

“Just–” Gojo interrupts you. “Just stop.”

Everyone are still stunned silent and the flush to your cheeks grows warmer. While clearing your throat, you set your lap napkin up on the table and clumsily scootch yourself out of your chair.

“Ex…cuse…me...” you mumble under your breath, knocking the table with your knee on accident, your wine glass almost toppling all over the pretty linen tablecloth but your reflexes catch the stem to steady it. “I need to…use the restroom.” And then you head straight down the hallway without sparing them another glance.

“Use the upstairs one!” Mrs. Gojo calls out to you, “the guest bathroom is under renovation.”

“Of fucking course it is,” you mutter under your breath, but flash them a polite smile before rounding the staircase pillar and then briskly walking up the stairs.

You quickly realize there’s more personality to the house upstairs, with some clutter in the theater loft and mismatching decorations that don’t reveal the careful deliberation of an indoor designer. The master bedroom is directly to the right of the top of the staircase and you glance across the loft at a narrow hallway that leads into the three bedrooms tucked away into the heart of the house.

One foot after the other, you float in that direction as if some force were compelling you towards it. Some trance of curiosity that no human being could ever resist. It’s fine. You didn’t actually need to piss anyways.

The first bedroom you walk past is rather boring, with beige tones all around. Beige bed sheets, beige wall paint, beige lamp shade, beige curtains. But the air smells crisp, and you notice there’s a shelf that has about half a dozen plants lined up in a variety of artistic pots. Similar to the set-up Gojo has in his house at home. You walk inside and brush your fingers across the dresser surface, rubbing fine dust over the pads of your fingers, and with your next inhale, you sneeze.

A guest bedroom, you think to yourself.

The next bedroom you walk past is sweeter, kinder, warmer. There’s pink hues scattered across, the most obvious one being the pillow covers, and there are some shades of a baby blue as well. But the furniture looks modern, sleek, and new. There were two identities at war in the room, like that of a little girl and a grown woman. Neither able to find its voice among the chaos of friendship bracelets sprawled across the desk and the Louis Vuitton purse resting at the foot of the bed.

Sana’s room, you think to yourself.

Childhood bedrooms are like time capsules if left untouched for very long. You’ve lived in your room at home for as long as you can remember, only recently having shifted to the master bedroom. The room grew up with you. It had no chance to become some entity of its own.

The next bedroom you walk by feels familiar, even before you walk inside. There’s a comforting feeling that envelopes just from the lighting alone. You push the door open with a gentle palm.

The culprit of any young man’s room–navy blue sheets. Stretched taut against a made-up bed that has some sort of feminine flair to it, like it wasn’t set by Gojo, but rather his mother passing by his room one day to sit in his absence, only to needlessly mess with the sheets because it gave her a sense of purpose. You go eighteen years pouring blood, sweat, and tears into raising a child, protecting them, nurturing them, being the one they lean on for all of life’s woes, only for them to pack up and leave one day. You suppose that if you were a parent, you would find melancholy in that loss of responsibility too.

His desk is a large expanse of cedar wood with a desktop monitor and some bookshelf speakers set up on it. The PC itself has collected dust over the years but there’s a small mechanical whirring noise you hear somewhere within. The rest of the desk is mostly empty except for some unopened mail tucked away with some books, the spines creased at the last few hundred pages, but never to the end.

You pick one of the books up, flipping the pages open, and see sticky notes on some of them. Like English literature notes one would take in class, with studious words that over exaggerate the significance of the prose just to make a teacher happy. Who cares if the curtains were blue? Maybe the author just wanted them to be blue. Why does everything in life have to have meaning?

Setting the book back down with a sigh, you walk over to the bookshelf. There are some more trophies, some sets of comic books, some strange robotic-looking figurines. Small picture frames of foreign scenery are set up in different corners wherever there is empty space, like an afterthought.

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself, tilting your head to the side to read the vertical spine of a thick black book that was tucked flush up against the shelf's side.

West Valley High School. Class of 2007.

With your index finger hooking the spine, you slowly pull the book out from its comfy corner. It’s heavy in your hands and you notice that there are ink smudges across the tips of your fingers.

When you open the cover, you’re met with a page filled with a variety of colors and handwriting, and you realize they’re signatures. And to no one’s surprise, most of them are feminine. With hearts, some merely outlines, some shaded in with ink, scattered across the page. Bubbly handwriting, neat handwriting, cursive handwriting, a lot of it in pinks and purples and reds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was like those Valentine’s Day cards all the girls would sign in grade school to pass onto their crush, except imagine if all of them were intended for just one guy.

You roll your eyes as you flip the pages, seeing no end in sight to the signed ink. I mean, come on, how many signature pages does a yearbook even need? This was excessive. And, no, you aren’t bitter simply because your high school yearbook has maybe a max of fifteen signatures (four of which were from your teachers). It’s just frustrating. And confusing. Why does everyone on this planet adore Gojo except you? Is there something wrong with you? Are you the problem?

There are some signatures from boys too, most likely his friends. Otherwise, you’re not sure what random fleeting classmate you’ve only spoken to a couple times would be brazen enough to draw pictures of penises squirting in whatever empty space they could find in your yearbook, if not for his high school friends. These boys are probably in their mid thirties now, just as Gojo is, maybe with wives and kids they’re now responsible for. You wonder if they’d still find the drawings funny all the same today.

You flip the pages more, taking in image after image after image of smiling portraits. ABC…DE…F…ah, G. Hmm, there. There it was.

Gojo Satoru.

Seems like his high school didn’t allow yearbook quotes, but you try to imagine what his would be. Probably something corny and lame, like See kids? I told you I was sexy in high school.

He looks cute though. With his hair fluffy, boyishly ruffled to pair with a charming smile that’s at ease. He just looks a little younger, that’s all. Not that much different. Perhaps a bit more scrawny, a bit more mischievous-looking. As opposed to his adult self, who appears sturdy. More serious. But you realize that cheeky part of him that comes out every now and then when he’s teasing you or pissing you off is that boy within him that looks exactly like the portrait in this yearbook that you trace with the pad of your finger.

You close the book, suddenly a little out of breath, and then slip it back into place. Your eyes catch the shimmer of the trophy at the top of the shelf. It was shaped like a baseball glove mitt, and in the palm cup, there is an actual baseball in there with a black ink signature. You gently pick it up and turn it in your palm to try and read the ink.

Ichiro.

Your dad used to watch baseball. You’re familiar. Seattle Mariners, Ichiro Suzuki. The first Japanese player to ever make it to the Major Leagues. Ten time all-star, and tenth member of the Mariners hall of fame. He retired when you were just a little girl, but you still remember the look of awe in your father’s eyes as he stared at the box TV in the living room of your house when Ichiro took his last stand at the plate.

Gojo was also a boy at that time. Living in this house. Maybe his old man was watching that game at the same time. And maybe Gojo was watching the look on his father’s face, too. It’s the romance of life–you look up at the moon in the sky, and you know that there is someone else out there, someone that you’ll meet some day, maybe even someone that will mean the world to you someday, who’s looking at it too. But you just don’t know it yet.

Lost in endless, rather fruitless thought, you continue to turn the baseball in your hand to pointlessly assess the seams, but it slips out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor with a loud hollow thud that startles you, and when you attempt to bend down and pick it up, you accidentally push it with your toe and it rolls underneath the bed.

“Shit,” you mumble, getting down onto your hands and knees to look underneath the bed.

You see the ball rolled a few feet away, and when you reach for it, it becomes clear that you don’t have the arm span to grab it. You struggle and you struggle, the tips of your fingers barely tickling its seam, and the frustration makes you sweat a little.

“Come…here…you…stupid…thing,” you mutter. You’re sure your hair is a static mess now, too.

You finally manage to roll it towards you a couple inches and then your palm wraps around it before pulling it to your shoulder, but not without something collateral that’s dragged along with it.

A photograph. Printed out, vintage. You pinch the corner between your two fingers and stand back up onto your two feet in order to better assess the image under the light of the floor lamp.

The first person you notice in the photo is Gojo. He looks younger than in the yearbook, but he’s wearing a suit and a tie. It’s a little big on him, ill-fitting as most teenage boys should look in a suit, like a rite of passage. His smile is less warm than the one in the yearbook too, more prim and stretched into a thin line that’s only slightly curved upwards. It’s only then when you notice the slender fingers sprawled across his chest near the collar of his undershirt, black nail polish blending in with the fabric of the suit. Your eyes trail the dainty hand, and your heart skips a beat when you see a girl standing next to him, pressed up against him, her smile much brighter than his. Pink braces line her teeth and her hair is that classic mid-2000s side-swept bang mess, but she’s pretty. Dressed in a pink-ish purple gown that almost looks like a bridesmaids dress, and you finally see the banner stretched across behind the both of them in the picture that reads Homecoming 2005.

It’s hard to explain it, but you can just feel it somehow. That this person is important to him. Not just some last-minute date to Homecoming, or an old high school girlfriend he’s long since lost touch with. It seems larger than that, somehow. Unlike penises drawn on yearbook paper, this feels like something a person never outgrows.

Of course, people have lived fully-fledged lives before you’ve met them. Just as you have as well. But you’re overtaken by the insane curiosity to want to learn every single detail about this past life that Gojo has lived. Where did he and his friends hang out after school? When did he learn how to drive? When was the first time he got shit-faced drunk? When was the first time he snuck out of the house? And who was this girl in the picture?

“Find what you’re lookin’ for yet?” a voice calls out, entirely startling you to where you almost jolt out of your skin, and you swiftly turn on your heel towards the entrance of the room.

You see Gojo standing in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he levels his gaze at you. He has a blank expression on his face, although you would say it’s more serious than playful.

“What–...I–” you stutter, shuffling the picture you were holding behind your back so he doesn’t see.

His eyes don’t flit to the movement. “You don’t have to tear the room apart to find my illicit drugs. You could’ve just asked.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you would do drugs.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

“So, then, if you’re not looking for drugs, what are you looking for?”

Your cheeks are warm. “I don’t know. Petty cash? Human body parts? Playboy?”

He snorts. “Playboy? Who still has a subscription to Playboy?”

“Maybe your teenage self did.”

“I’m not that old,” he says, “I was watching porn like the rest of my peers.”

“Ew, you freak,” you say, and you grab one of his pillows and throw it at him.

He lets out a laugh before catching the pillow with ease, and then walks up to you, placing the pillow on top of your head. You half-glare, half-pout at him.

“C’mon,” he probes, “tell me why you’re hiding away up here.”

“I embarrassed myself,” you confide in him with a sulk of your shoulders. “I mean. Seriously. What the fuck was that? What a humiliating thing to say in front of your parents. I just feel so weird pretending like this.”

His expression softens. “Sorry,” he says, “for dragging you into this dinner.”

“No,” you sigh, “I’m the one that did. I forgot you can’t necessarily fake a marriage without…doing the typical couple things.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he hums as his gaze flits towards the bed, “doing the typical couple things, you say?”

You roll your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, in my dreams alright,” he says with a grin.

“And if I strangled you? What then?”

“I like that. It’s kinky.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t have magazines lying around?”

“Brown box underneath the bed. You didn’t look hard enough.”

You give him a disgusted look. He laughs.

“I’m joking,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not convinced,” you say, turning your body away from him slightly to keep the photo hidden behind your back.

He tilts his head at you, gaze flickering down to your other hand. Your heart skips a beat. “I could’ve guessed that.”

His hand reaches out and you flinch ever so slightly, something he thankfully doesn’t notice, and then he’s grabbing the baseball out of your palm.

“I always thought I could sell this thing for major money,” he muses, throwing the ball up into the air to catch it. And then doing so again a couple times.

“It’s authentic?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I caught it. First ball game my old man ever took me to, and it happened to be Ichiro’s last.”

Your eyes widen. Gojo was at that game. He wasn’t just watching it from home on some TV like you did with your dad. He was living in it.

“Wow,” you say, “must’ve been quite the game.”

“Don’t really remember too much about it to be honest, other than how stoked I was to just be there with my dad.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I’ll have to ask Mr. Gojo more about it when we get downstairs.”

His expression falters slightly, his smile dropping in the most subtle way that you wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been intently staring at his face.

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe.”

Gojo continues to stare at the ball in his palm as he rotates it in inspection. There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of you, and you feel the burden of conversation has suddenly fallen on you.

“My, um. My dad was a fan too,” you say.

His eyes glance up to meet yours. “How come I’ve never met him?”

The question catches you off guard. “Wh–...I’m sorry, what?”

“Your dad,” he says, as if it was something so casual.

“That–...well, he’s–...I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in years,” you admit, “not since…not since my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

He stares at you earnestly, studying your expression, before he decides on saying nothing else except, “I’m sorry about that.”

You sigh. “Satoru, I–” you start, keen on the way his body stiffens slightly when you say his name, “I really don’t have the capacity for much else tonight. I mean, the questions. And the lies. And walking on eggshells around your mom.”

“Well. I was sent up here to get you,” he says, “and I can’t exactly go downstairs empty handed.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with as fast as possible.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, “I’m with you on that one.”

You take a step forward to head towards the door, but then suck in a sharp gasp when you remember what was being held behind your back.

“Wait,” you say, “look away.”

“...huh?” he huffs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just look away for a second.”

His eyebrows furrow before he lifts one in a questioning manner. But he acquiesces and turns on his heel to face away from you. “Have I ever told you how strange you are?”

“No,” you say while discretely crouching down, playing along in an attempt to distract him, “you haven’t.” You flinch a little from the sound of your hip popping, but he doesn’t seem to notice and so you bend your wrist in preparation of flinging the photo back to the abyss underneath his bed.

But you stop.

And you take one more glance at the photo.

And your stomach flips the same way it did the first time you saw it.

If you asked, would he tell you?

But the more pressing question is,

Why are you so scared to find out?

You shake your head vigorously to get rid of all your pestering intrusive thoughts. It was the stress, you played it off. A hyperactive mind leads to hyperactive ruminations. And besides, it’s just silly. Sure, there’s your gut feeling that suggests otherwise. But this girl in the photo could really just be an old friend or girlfriend that had no significant impact on the trajectory of his life. Why be the crazy one and lose sleep over this? You’ve lost sleep over plenty of other things in your life, but not stuff like this. It’s just not like you.

You fling the photo across underneath the bed and then stand up just in time for when Gojo turns around to look at you out of curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, dusting your hands off, “let’s go.”

You walk over to where he stands by the doorframe, a slight warmth to your cheeks when he doesn’t move out of your way like he usually does, but instead he leans towards you slightly as you brush past him, and your heart jumps a beat in your chest when you feel his hand gently fall to the small of your back, softly urging you forward ahead of him. A feather of a touch, yet intentional, almost naturally so, like a curious test of the boundary between you two that he’s been dying to understand a bit better. And the fact you don’t turn on your heel to face him with that same undeserved and petty rage that you always do, and instead slightly shudder at the feel of his touch, means that somewhere along the way, you’ve moved the line a little closer.

He’s hot on your trail as you walk down the stairs slowly and when you turn around the post at the bottom then make your way back to the dining room, you see his family staring at you with wide eyes.

His mother stands up. “y/n! Come sit back down, dear.”

You nod meekly, and Gojo pulls your chair out for you to take a seat before he resumes his seat next to you.

The food is slightly cold by the time you finally get to pick at it. It’s not very seasoned, either. Not enough salt for your taste. But somehow Mrs. Gojo having a phobia of sodium is a study of character that makes perfect sense in your head.

Eventually, the awkward silence is too much for you to bear, and you set your fork and knife down on your napkin with a slight bit more force than you probably should’ve.

Everyone looks at you.

You sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier,” you say, “I’m…uh, I’m just not really used to these sorts of dinners…I don’t have much family here in this town, and it’s always just sort of been my mom and me. And I—…I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Wide eyes blink at you. Mr. Gojo shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat while Mrs. Gojo blinks her long lashes at you. Sana tilts her head, and you have no interest in seeing what Gojo’s expression looks like. You fear it’s the one you’d remember the most.

You were just being honest with how you felt. And it doesn’t take you long to realize something you probably should’ve realized earlier walking into a home like this where everything was perfect and on display with no evidence of the way a true family can crumble on the inside—a house like this does not value honesty. Your mother couldn’t afford you many luxuries in life, but you never felt like you couldn’t be honest in front of her.

You glimpse up at Sana, and there is some knowing expression on her face. It’s almost sympathetic. As if you two were on the same page about something right now. When you glance at Gojo, you see him staring down at his plate with his brow slightly furrowed.

“It…it’s quite alright, dear,” his mother says through a prim voice, and in an attempt to change the subject, she says, “I do hope you are enjoying the chicken.”

“Ah,” you exhale, “yes. I am.”

“So!” Mrs. Gojo chimes in again as she dabs her mouth to a linen napkin. “Tell me about what you do for fun.”

You blink at her. “Oh, umm…binge watch TV? Occasionally I’ll go for a walk.”

“Ahh interesting! What about reading? Do you enjoy reading?”

“Well, the last book I purchased was a picture book about North Korean missiles…so.”

She lets out a laugh. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

You hear Gojo sigh beside you before he reluctantly sets down his silverware and then he turns to Mrs. Gojo. “Mom. C’mon. This isn’t a job interview. Just let her eat.”

There’s a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears from the interrogation interruption as she glances between the two of you. She looks over at Sana for help but finds nothing other than a gaze tipped down towards a plate full of picked-at food. Mr. Gojo folds a hand over her frail knuckles as if to silently communicate, but Mrs. Gojo retreats her hands to fold in her lap underneath the table.

Feeling somewhat bad for the two of them, you turn the face Gojo’s dad. “Um…Mr. Gojo, Satoru was telling me about how you were a big baseball fan and a big Ichiro fan…do you still keep up with the Mariners?”

The man’s eyes grow wide with a visible confusion and you swear you hear Gojo clear his throat beside you.

“Ah…that’s–” he starts before the sound of the doorbell ringing startles you.

Sana immediately stands up without a word of excusal or a glance in anyone’s direction and she heads straight for the door.

You all look around at one another before Mrs. Gojo says, “must be Jun.”

You were at least glad to find you would not be the only “in-law” at the table full of a tension-laced family dinner, especially given the fact that in most of the cases where you’ve met Jun, his penchant to talk overshadows any other energy.

“What’s up, y/n!” Jun shouts when he waltzes into the dining hall, a few steps ahead of Sana. He throws his jacket over the first surface he finds, body language matching that of someone twenty years younger than he actually is. You can’t tell if it’s overcompensation for something, or if he just genuinely believes he’s still in his twenties.

To your surprise, he opens his arms out for you to greet him with a hug, and you hesitate before standing up slightly to give him a well-meaning wrap of your arms around him, but it lacks any warmth of familiarity.

“Welcome to the fam!” he jovially exclaims before patting your arm. He then hugs Mr. Gojo, then Mrs. Gojo (paired with those cheek kisses that the French do in greeting), then daps up Gojo (to which you notice Gojo is less than enthusiastic about) before he finally kisses Sana on the cheek and then takes his seat at the other end of the table. Your eyes are keen on Sana now, watching her intently, but she remains staring at the food on her plate. You had a feeling there was someone in this room that didn’t want to be at this dinner even more than you did.

“How was traffic, Jun?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“Oh it was nothing. Took a shortcut. Backroute off of Lake City Way. Full of pot holes though.”

Sana turns to him and scowls. “While you were taking Juno to her sleepover?!”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? We were running late.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to take that route to get into the city! Those pot holes are so dangerous.”

“Honey. Chill. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Just last week I saw news of three plot holes on the Mercer Street intersection opened up. Three people were injured, including a young boy.”

“Okay well if I also believed everything I saw on the news was going to personally happen to me too then we’d have never gotten this far in life.”

“Jun,” Sana deadpans.

“W-Why don’t I fix you a plate, Jun? You must be tired.” Mrs. Gojo chimes in.

Sana breathes in deep and exhales slowly before slumping down into her chair.

“Thanks,” Jun says, easing his brow as he sits back in his chair nonchalantly, before he turns to Gojo and starts to talk about mundane things like the stock market, the recent election, something about a new bowling record, and this one Thai restaurant he really wants to try on the other end of town, all within the span of time it takes Mrs. Gojo to set a plate down in front of him.

Mr. Gojo jumps in on conversation from time to time. Mrs. Gojo listens idly, sometimes placing a laugh where she feels appropriate. Jun gets particularly animated about this incident he ran into earlier last week when he was dropping Juno off at school, a story that you notice everyone at the table is for some reason entirely intrigued by, but you suppose it’s the most interesting topic of conversation you’ve all had tonight thus far. At certain critical points of the story, Sana jumps in with a that’s not what happened, Jun and you find yourself finally settling in somewhat to the evening.

Just as Jun’s story is ending, you glance up to Mrs. Gojo and find that she’s staring at you with a smile on her face. It makes you jump in your seat a little, luckily unnoticed by the rest of the table because of Jun’s engaging theatrical hand gestures as he attempts to keep his wife, his brother-in-law and his father-in-law engaged. You would’ve expected Mrs. Gojo to avert her gaze the second yours locked with hers, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look at you with a soft smile on her face and a slight tilt to her head, like she’s getting used to the sight of seeing you at this table.

Her gaze flits downwards slightly and you follow her line of gaze, tracing it to the ring that was adorning your left hand.

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh–” you stutter, the words already getting caught in your throat, “I–...I forgot to say, it’s an honor to wear your ring, Mrs. Gojo.” The table suddenly goes quiet, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you, or if it’s because there was no more story left to tell. “It’s beautiful.”

It truly felt like for every two steps you took forward, it was ten steps backwards. Because you watch the way that soft smile of hers entirely drops, her expression replaced with one of confusion, brows knitted together as she looks at you like you’ve just spoken in a language no one on Earth can speak.

She glances at Gojo, and you don’t have to look at him to tell that he’s stiff in his seat. You could’ve felt the tension from a mile away.

Mrs. Gojo looks at you again. “Oh honey, that–” She glances between you and Gojo. “That’s not my ring…”

Your eyes widen, cheeks already flush from whatever’s to come.

But suddenly, and to your surprise, Sana speaks up. “It was our mother’s ring.”

You look at her with confusion. And then you glance at Gojo. And then you glance back at Sana. And then at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo.

“But…” you trail off.

“Sumiko and Daichi are our aunt and uncle,” Sana says with a strained voice, “our real parents died in a house fire when we were younger.”

You blink at her in shock.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I–” You glance at Gojo and see that he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the glass of scotch he was twirling around in his hand.

“Of course he didn’t,” Sana interrupts, the bitterness in her voice matching the attitude she’s since displayed this entire evening. Her gaze is locked onto her brother’s face, and when his gaze flickers up to meet her eye contact, his expression is set with a tense jaw. “He never wants to mention them. He never wants to acknowledge their life. He never wants to honor them. He just wants to pretend like they never existed.”

“Sana,” he cuts her off, and a chill gets sent down your spine from the seriousness and rigidity in his voice. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“When is the fucking time?!” she spats at him, the simmering tension brewing over. Ah. Yes. The moment you had been expecting. After all, what family does not have its baggage? Sana abruptly stands up from the table, startling everyone with the clanking of silverware and ceramic from the motion. “When is the fucking time for you to admit that you never gave a shit about mom and dad dying? When is the fucking time for you to admit that we moved on to live with these people so fast? When is the fucking time for you to admit how wrong it was for you to force me to call the people here my mom and dad my whole life when they aren’t?” Her voice cracks near the end.

You glance at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, who both look shocked, hurt, even embarrassed as they gaze down at their food. Your heart stalls in your chest for them.

When you glance back at Gojo, you see that his gaze is hardened even further now. “You’re being rude,” he says, in as steady of a voice as he can manage from the way his brow is creased with disappointment.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sana says as she wipes at the tears with her sleeves, and you notice that she looks young like this. Younger than the usual prim and proper self that she portrays. Too young to be a mom, too young to be a wife, too young to be an adult. Like someone propelled into a life that she never wanted. “That’s always what you say, isn’t it? No answers, you just claim that I’m being childish and rude.” Jun tries to reach out to hold her hand but she snatches it away from him. Under her breath she says, “I didn’t want to come here. I should’ve just stayed home.” And with a rough swipe of her sleeve across both of her cheeks, she suddenly storms off somewhere deep into the house. Jun immediately stands up to follow her, leaving the four of you here with stale, cold food.

The timer in the oven goes off, the sound heard in the distance like a lifeline, and Mrs. Gojo immediately stands up. “Ah, must be…the roasted potatoes. I’ll be right back,” she fusses, and you avert your gaze from her face so she doesn’t feel embarrassed over the streak of a tear you saw streaming down her face.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Gojo says in a small sheepish mumble before following his wife into the kitchen.

And then there were two.

You only have a moment to process the dramatic outburst and subsequent fall-through before you turn in your chair to face Gojo, your face narrowing in contempt. You see him running a hand through his hair, entirely ruffling out any sort of neatness he had combed it into earlier, and he undoes the top button of his shirt with an impatient thumb like he was letting go of whatever image he had been trying to keep up for tonight, because after what just happened, there was no use.

“So when were you going to tell me that they aren’t actually your real parents???” you hiss at him.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They’ve raised us since Sana was just three years old. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Okay well if I had known then I wouldn’t have mentioned the ring??? Now everyone’s left the table because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he quickly corrects you, “it’s because of years of unnecessary drama of which I’ve still got no fucking clue why it still gets brough up at every. family. dinner. If you didn’t bring it up, then they would’ve figured out a way to bring it up somehow anyways.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback by how dejected he was by this entire conversation.

“Are you going to go check on Sana?” you ask him.

“No,” he says without hesitation, “she’ll calm down soon enough.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his dismissal, before you let out a huff of disappointment and disapproval. You pull your napkin off of your lap, setting it up on the table, and slip out of your chair to head into the house in the direction you saw Sana storm off into, leaving Gojo to himself at the table.

As you walk down the hallway, all those pictures you saw hung up on the walls, those photos of illusion that painted this pretty picture of a nuclear family fall apart in the narrow space, those firm smiles and hesitant postures making much more sense to you now. They aren’t even his real parents. Baseball and wedding rings. Those details belonged to a life he never intended on sharing with you.

You walk past the kitchen, stopping briefly just beyond the entrance before backtracking and you find Sana standing near the sink with her arm across her chest as her other hand wipes at her cheeks. The soft sound of a sniffle echoes in the room and you’re surprised to see that Jun left her alone.

Tentatively, you shuffle your feet across the wooden floor. She seems to make note of you in her periphery but refuses to glance up.

“Hey…” you start when you finally make it to the space in front of her, your hip leaning against the edge of the sink counter in parallel with hers as you face her.

“I—” she starts, shuffling her palms across her cheeks again. “I am so severely embarrassed.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the honesty. “Don’t be. It’s just family.”

“No but that’s the point,” she says through a crack in her voice, “I’m thirty-one, I’m married, I’m a mom, but they’ll always just see me as some immature little brat because I always behave like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You suppose if you were a therapist, or a priest, or a mentor, or a mom yourself, or any other person with an emotional IQ higher than yourself, you would know the right thing to say to her right now. But you don’t. So silence is all that you can offer her, and you hope that it’s enough.

It seems to work in it’s own magical way, as she slowly opens herself up to you within the next passing sixty seconds. A fleeting glance up to your face. The halt of pointless fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. The way she stands up straighter, her hip no longer leaning against the kitchen counter, and you find that you mirror the same movement.

She clears her throat, rubbing her nose with the knuckle of her index finger, her eyes no longer glistening with tears but the corners of them look puffy.

You glance down at your feet for a moment before inhaling deep and making eye contact with her. “Hey, listen…” you say, “I’m—…I’m really sorry…about earlier today. For overstepping about the bullying. Juno’s your daughter, and I really shouldn’t have given her advice before at least running it by you beforehand. Especially for something so sensitive.”

The delicate muscles of her brow lift in surprise at your words, lids fluttering slowly as she processes your words, and the wave of melancholy is contagious as it washes through you as well.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, “for how angry I got with you. It’s just—” she hesitates, and you see that semblance of her that you’re more familiar with. Strict, stern, rough around the edges but for a noble reason. “Y’know, with kids…we tend to get overprotective over them.” Her gaze drops to somewhere beneath yourselves as if she suddenly lost confidence in her train of thought. “I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.”

A silence settles between the two of you before you realize you ought to respond to her.

“I get it,” you finally say. “I mean—…I don’t. Because I’m not a mom. But…I’m sure that when I am one some day, I’d understand.”

She finally offers you a smile in return to your words, polite but genuine nonetheless. And a soft remnant sniffle makes her ruffle her nose.

Her expression softens, and she stares straight ahead to your collarbone rather than your eyes. “She really likes you, you know?” Sana glances up at you now. “Hasn’t stopped talking about your ‘blubbery’ pancakes since last week.”

“Aww.”

There’s a sad glint in her eyes when she turns her torso away from you slightly in resignation before some hint of optimism flashes by in her face and she turns to you again.

“Do you…think you could give me the recipe?”

You want to ask her if everything is okay. But instead, you say, “sure.”

The sound of footsteps approaching is heard near the kitchen entrance and the two of you glance in that direction to see Jun walking in. He offers you a fleeting glance before taking his place beside Sana, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him towards her before placing a kiss on her temple and saying, “hey honey.”

You watch as she averts her gaze down to the tips of her toes.

“Feeling better?” he asks her but there’s this lack of warmth you cannot quite discern.

“Yes,” she responds, scratching at her cheek as a discreet way of getting rid of the last remaining wetness that had streamed down her face earlier.

He rubs her arm soothingly and then looks at you with a smile pressed into a firm line. “Doing alright?”

You blink at him. “Wh—…yes.”

“Say, y/n, how’s your mom doing by the way?” he asks.

“She’s…better. She’s in hospice now.”

“Palliative?”

“Well—” you say, “I guess. It’s just temporary.”

He shuffles inside the pocket of his coat and takes out something. A small card with finely printed black ink on it. He hands it to you.

“I can’t imagine how expensive that all must be,” he says, and you glance down at the card.

Carevest Capital est. 2016

Invest in a healthier you!

You glance up at Jun. Sana’s gaze has now shifted to the inside of the sink.

“I started this business,” he says, “where we’re revolutionizing the way healthcare costs are managed. In our platform, we basically invest our clients’ money into the stock market, leveraging our high-reward algorithm to maximize returns. But here’s the unique part: we partner with leading healthcare CEOs who match a portion of the profits as an incentive for stock purchases. Together, these funds go directly toward paying off hospital bills and easing related financial burdens.”

Your eyes widen at his words. The speech was practiced, one you can only assume he has pitched to many potential clientele. But there’s a hint of personable grace to it as well.

“I’m telling you, y/n, we’ve had clients who have overcome six figures of medical debt in just six months,” he says, “and you’ll only need a couple thousand dollars to start yourself up.”

You purse your lips together, your finger pinching the corner of the card. “That’s amazing, Jun.”

He smiles at you, releasing Sana’s waist. “Sorry if this kinda came out of nowhere, but I heard through the grapevine that things have been rough.”

Oh, like how your card has declined publicly at the grocery store multiple times, or how you haven’t been able to afford your insurance deductible to get that chipped off part of your bumper fixed, or the fact you haven’t paid your landscapers in over three months so your lawn now looks like a swamp? It was a small town. And people’s finances were always a topic of interest for most.

“I just wanted to offer any help I can,” Jun says.

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile, “I’ll, um, I’ll look into it.” You push the card into your pocket.

He offers you that same firm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he pulls Sana to him again, placing another kiss along her hairline and the PDA seems like overcompensation on some front from the way Sana is entirely frigid to his touch.

Maybe it was a woman’s intuition,

But you felt like something was wrong.

“Kids,” you hear Mr. Gojo’s crackly voice say as he stands leaning against the doorframe near the kitchen entrance, “let’s finish dinner?”

The three of you exchange glances before nodding and heading back towards the hall.

Your peach cobbler was apparently very good, the only thing that seemed to cut through the tension of the night. But that was the thing with family, right? You can yell and scream and cry and lecture and mope and roll your eyes at each other all you want but at the end of the day, they’re still family. Sana still seems slightly dejected though, and you can see Gojo in the corner of your eye at the table glancing up at her every other minute or so. His own way of making sure she’s doing okay, you think to yourself. Sana refuses to meet anyone’s line of sight except yours, however, which makes you feel some slight burdensome responsibility of sisterhood you had never signed up for. Nonetheless, you try to offer her a soothing smile whenever she looks up at you, and it seems to put her at ease.

The news of Sana and Jun moving seemed slightly anticlimactic, as Mrs. Gojo mentioned that they had already had an inkling that Jun and Sana would be moving closer to the city. You briefly wonder if Mrs. Gojo knew all along, but decided to make the announcement into some big affair just so that she could see her niece and nephew over a meal.

You make no more embarrassing comments. Conversation dulls into anything and everything unpersonal to you all, such as the news and weather and gossip of other people. And somewhere along the night, you relax your knee, the ball of it pressing into Gojo’s thigh underneath the table. It was wordless, innocent contact that occurs when two people become more comfortable with one another. Only excusable due to the slight buzz you felt in your veins from the wine. He’s kissed you before, yet somehow the press of his thigh against yours feels even more searing. There’s a point along the night where you tip your head to the right slightly, daringly close to resting your head on his shoulder due to the tipsy dizziness weighing in your head, and it would certainly put on a convincing show of newlywed affection for his aunt and uncle, but you manage to catch yourself. And subsequently refuse any more glasses of wine.

“Thanks for having me,” you say to Mrs. Gojo at the front entrance before she pulls you in for a hug.

“Oh, anytime dear,” she says as she gently pats your back, “please.”

When she pulls away from the hug, she holds you by your shoulders before her eyes glance down towards your left hand and the shimmering diamond that sat on the ring finger. She holds your hand in hers and lifts it to examine the twinkle underneath the lights of the chandelier.

“It really is a pretty ring,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “It looked beautiful on my sister, and it looks beautiful on you too.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Please,” she says in response to the title, “Sumiko is fine.” But in less of a way in which she’s relaxing formalities, but rather in a way that acknowledges she never had the sovereignty to be called that in the first place.

You hear masculine voices approaching down the hallway as the three men make their way towards the front entrance as well. Gojo glances at you in the midst of their conversation, and he leaves the two of them to make his way over to you.

“Alright,” Gojo says, turning to face the rest of them as he stands beside you. “We’ll head out now.”

Sumiko pulls him in for a hug, then his uncle, and then obnoxiously by Jun as well. Sana fidgets with her fingers as she remains at the end of the line, and you catch a glimpse of surprise on her face when Gojo pulls her in for a hug too. You see him whisper something to her, and it’s only after she hears what he said that she returns the hug and wraps her arms around him as well.

You’re jolted out of your people-watching trance when Gojo walks up to you and takes your hand in his, shoving his other in his pocket. You glance down at the sight, the way his large hand engulfs your own. It’s warm in a firm hold, delicately squeezing your hand once right before you feel the cold air behind you when his uncle opens the door.

Well, you survived. That’s what you think to yourself as you sit in the passenger seat of Gojo’s car, watching the city lights twinkle as you two drive by. You don’t know what you were expecting. Drama? Ease? Tension? For a piece of the sky to fall and land on the roof? There was a part of you that wanted to impress. You want to be one of those daughter-in-laws that the in-laws just adore. You know, where they’re like, god am I so happy that she’s a part of the family now! The one that the mother-in-law is just so ecstatic to know that her son managed to hold down such a catch.

But any expectations and pressure dissolve with the reminder that this is all fake. Fake, fake, fake. And you’d do really well to remind yourself of that reality whenever you spent time with Gojo. Whenever you find yourself acclimating into his life for even a moment, just remember that it’s fake. Can you have a little fun here and there? Sure. Will you probably find yourself in even stranger situations going forward? Yes, because, well, that’s how life is. But it’s just fake. No obligations, no responsibility, nothing. Nada. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

But as you walk through the front door, staring straight ahead into the dark house at Gojo’s back as he sets down the keys by the foyer table, and even as you follow him further into the house towards the kitchen, that feeling inside you surges.

A woman's intuition.

That something between Jun and Sana was wrong.

Not just routine marital issues,

Or the occasional argument,

Something worse. Something dangerous.

And it’s not something you would ever expect a man to pick up on, even Gojo.

Because it was from the way Sana’s eyes silently communicated with you from across the table,

Something so subtle, a silent plea across a shared dimension,

That she needed help.

“Hey…” you speak up softly, standing in front of the fridge.

Gojo glances over his shoulder at you from the other side of the kitchen island, barely illuminated by the moonlight through the windows. He turns to face you. “What’s up?”

You blink at him.

“Um, I really don’t want to overstep again, but—”

There’s a sobering thought that flashes through your mind when you recall that you have never seen yourself as the hero in anyone’s story.

Simply because you could never, ever, ever trust yourself.

You could never trust your feelings or your decisions.

Because you cosigned on hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical loans. Because you stuck around for five years with a man that didn’t love you anymore. Because you still feel naive enough to believe that your best friend who betrayed you still misses you somehow. Because you still foolishly believe your mother will be around to hold her grandchildren someday.

Because you thought that your best bet in order to pull yourself out of hell was to fake marry a man,

And then act as if it’s all real when his aunt looks you in the eye with bittersweet tears as you now wear her bereaved sister’s ring in honor, entirely unaware it was actually being worn in vain.

How could you ever trust your judgement when you behave this way?

Never the hero. If anything, the villain.

“What is it?” Gojo repeats when he sees that you’ve been silent for too long. He tilts his head at you, his hair falling over his forehead haphazardly and he runs a hand through it to try to get it out of his face. Even in the dim light, his eyes shine a breathtaking blue.

You swallow hard.

“Um,” you say, and then glance down at the wetness you find at your heel. “The, um, the fridge is leaking again.”

He blinks at you for a solid ten seconds, and then the tension in his shoulders drops when he sulks and closes his eyes with exhaustion and defeat.

“Fuck. Okay.”

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. looool i really keep thinking i can post shorter chapters and them bam they be 10k+ words. but i swearrr it's just cuz i be yapping :(( anywho hope you enjoyed this chapter!! a lot of characters were kinda introduced and mm given a bit more depth in this chapter. sorry there wasn't as much romance or anything in this one though haha there will be more in the next one :0 big big thank you to my lovely ihm beta readers ayelin, jules, leni & mirl for helping me out w this chapter!! i believe i may have mentioned this before but i STRUGGLLEEEE with multi-character scenes (i'm much more comfy writing scenes that just have back n forth between two characters) so this chapter was challenginggg esp the whole dinner sequences and there were also a lot of complicated feelings at play, descriptions, stuff i wasn't sure if it was coming off the right way (and tbh am still not sure haha) but they really helped me work my thoughts out n gave wonderful suggestions too so tysm :'') much loveee!! hope to see you all in the next one <3 - ellie

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ghostgirl-22 · 2 days ago

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OBSESSED with your stupid cockslut art!! Needy little baby too stupid to think about anything other than getting wrecked by his teammates…. The first time it happens…. They’re changing after training and the new kid - some handsome clearly gay guy - is flirting with art, leaning over him, putting his hands on arts chest, on his waist and Patrick’s being his typical jealous about it until he realises arts brain has completely turned off and he’s spacey and giggly and blushing and Patrick is immediately hard and like. Needs to explore this immediately actually. Drags art away and back to their room and arts so different to normal and Patrick just can’t help himself he has to fuck art immediately because as if he’d miss out on the chance to have him like this????

Ah yes…yes… I hear you anon…<3

So like Im taking it as the first time Patrick realizes that Art goes brainless or something like that (idk enjoy lol)

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

It takes a little while for him to notice, if Patrick’s being honest. He’s not really paying attention at first. He’s joking with a couple of his teammates about how predictable one of their regular opponents serve is. They’re all laughing and out of the corner of his eye is when he sees it.

The new kid, Craig Reynolds, is also the only openly gay kid on the team. He’s this tall, handsome, conventionally attractive athlete from a rich family. That’s pretty much why he gets away with it, integrating seamlessly while taking little if any flack from his teammates.

He’s talking to Art, talking up close, the way Patrick might. Barely giving him any personal space. Art’s leaning with his back up against the lockers, half dressed, smiling at him. Letting him touch, letting him grip at his arm, at his waist.

“God, Craig wants to fuck him so bad,” One of Patrick’s buddies mutters when he notices Patrick staring.

“Put him in make up and a dress and I’d wanna fuck him too,” another teammate snorts and they both laugh.

Patrick feels his stomach do a somersault and he’s suddenly burning up with irritation. Of course Craig is into Art, it makes perfect sense. Art is the pretty boy blonde on the team with the perfect ass. What’s bothering him is the way Art is mirroring his attraction.

It’s the way Art’s leaning back, letting himself be played with. Eyes wide, posture submissive. Smiling the way girls do when someone really attractive is giving them attention. When Craig leans in to play with his hair and Art starts wetting his lips is when Patrick decides to interrupt.

He gets first dibs. He gets last dibs. He gets everything in between. “Hey so you wanna go?” He asks Art.

“Patrick, Craig said he can help me with my backhand,” Art says, he’s chewing bubble gum, always has something in his mouth. And Jesus Christ up close it’s even worse. Patrick can see his eyes are dilated and his cheeks are pinkening. If he had longer hair he’d be twirling it for him.

“Oh yeah?” Patrick glares at Craig.

Craig glances at Patrick, eyes filled with amusement before his gaze returns to Art. “I mean, whenever. If you want to come play with me Donaldson, you know where I live.” His eyes fall over Art’s body, his desire so fucking obvious.

“Okay but promise you won’t go easy on me?” Art says, softly. Flirting. It’s so silly and irritating. Patrick’s one step from grabbing him and dragging him away.

“Don’t worry, you’re strong,” Craig rubs Art’s bare chest, “I know you can take it.”

Art’s grinning now, like it’s funny. It’s so not funny.

“Can you go get dressed?” Patrick demands. “I want to get food before the cafeteria closes.”

Art blinks, “Oh yeah… um…” he stumbles forwards running into the bench and he bends over to rub his shin as Craig laughs.

“Careful pretty boy.”

“Shuddup,” Art says, playful. “Um… wait… where’s my bag?”

Patrick narrows his eyes, “where it always is?” He says, incredulous when Art looks around helpless. “Other side of the room. Under the bench,” He points. “Near your locker.”

“Oh yeah,” Art grins.

“I think your roommate likes boys,” Craig’s sing song voice sounds teasingly in Patrick’s ear as they watch Art make his way over to his bag. “But of course you already know that… you’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows, turning around to face him. “Did he—”

”He didn’t say anything but it takes one to know one. Everyone talks about you guys like you’re one entity and then of course you show up all jealous,” Craig smirks, bending over his bag on the bench. Patrick rolls his eyes.

Impressively, Art hasn’t even made it five feet without being distracted by another boy.

“This is his right?” Craig hands Patrick a razor phone that definitely belongs to Art.

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “Fuck.”

“Be careful with that, someone might steal it away from you.” Craig pats his arm. Patrick shrugs him off and follows Art to the other side of the locker room.

He’s no more dressed than he was a minute ago. Instead he’s like a little space cadet, straddling the bench and bouncing his thigh while the guys Patrick was chatting with earlier are teasing him about Craig.

“Do you have any more gum, Donaldson?” One of them asks, sitting across from him while idly rubbing Art’s thigh. It’s their teammate Tyler Fitzgerald, who everyone just calls Fitz. Art smirks and blows a bubble which Fitz pops with his finger.

“Someone gave it to me.” Art says, soft. Pretty little grin on his face as he licks all the gum back into his mouth. Someone’s always giving him something.

“I like how you blow bubbles. You wanna blow something else?” Fitz smirks, still rubbing Art’s thigh. “I don’t think Craigs is bigger than mine.”

Art leans back on his hands, still chewing, skin flushed. “You’re so gross,” he says, but he scoots his body closer and sticks his gum coated tongue out.

“Art,” Patrick sighs. Fitz glances up at him at the same time Art does, pulling his hands away from Art’s thighs and getting to his feet with a not so subtle wink in Art’s direction.

“Patrick I’m— I’m coming,” Art says. He reaches for his bag and then sits up straight patting his pockets. “Wait I can’t find my—my—”

Patrick pulls the silver razor phone out of his own pocket and hands it to Art. ”Oh wow. I- where did you—?”

”Don’t worry about it, come on,” Patrick interrupts. He’s anxious and not for food. He thinks he’s starting to understand what’s happening.

Art is so shy when girls flirt with him, but he’s absolutely ditzy when he’s taking Patrick’s cock. Maybe with Craig flirting and Fitz flirting, maybe just the thought of getting fucked has him in that same drunken silly state. Unable to focus on anything but the idea of getting filled. And suddenly Patrick’s jeans feel so much tighter.

“Come on,” Patrick holds out his hand and Art chews a little longer before he spits the gum out, gazing up at Patrick, lips parted, eyes dilated, pink tongue tracing the surface of his white teeth. Patrick thinks about fucking him right here… taking him in the bathroom stall just to get it out of his system. Everyone probably already fucking knows by now. Art reaches for Patrick’s zipper and Patrick barely stops him, stepping back to go throw the gum away. “Get dressed,” he says.

Craig smirks at him from across the locker room.

Art just barely manages to get his clothes on. Patrick has to help him collect his gear. He’s all over the place. A little bit of boy flirting and he’s a fucking mess. Teasing the whole time, desperate for Patrick’s attention… for his…

He barely gets Art home. They’re kissing in the elevator. Art is dizzy, grabbing at him. Climbing all over Patrick as soon as they get onto the bed. Hes such a fucking cock slut he’s moaning before Patrick even gets inside, he’s moaning just for the promise of it. Falls apart all over it. Doesn’t recover till they’re sweaty and breathless, covered in lube, spit and semen.

And then Art’s back to normal. It’s fascinating. The way he comes back down to earth with little or no recollection of the way he was acting in the locker room. They clean up and go to dinner and it’s Patrick’s turn to fall apart. Tripping over himself to open doors for him, pulling him closer where they sit in the cafeteria. Patrick’s practically on top of him, consuming all his time, his attention, all the food he wants but can’t finish. Art’s not even eating his dessert, just licking the icing off. Patrick’s asking him what he remembers still trying to understand this particular tick.

Art denies flirting, says he was just talking to Craig, says he would never cheat and or let another boy fuck him. “I mean, unless…” he shrugs licking the frosting off his spoon. “Unless you wanted me too.” He bites down on the spoon and gazes at Patrick.

Patrick stares back at him, he can’t help but to smirk. “Yeah, okay.” He says but his mind is screaming because whatever the fuck this is… he knows he wants it. It’s only a matter of time before Art gets hit on by another boy and Patrick decides he’ll just have to be there so he can do more research.

#challengers fic #challengers smut #art x patrick #Artrick #I watched Deadpool x Wolverine while I wrote this and now I want them to be together I fear #also it was really funny #and also Craig reynolds may have happened because of it

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eriochromatic · 20 hours ago

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As a character, what do you love most about Silco? As a subject matter, what do you enjoy drawing about him most? (personally, I love his nose), but his fashion ... GOD. I would love to see your take on Happy AU Silco's wardrobe options!

Also, do you do concept art for video games or animation for a living? Your work is so professional, I especially admire your coloring!

I think for fictional characters in general, I love those who have really strong convictions and would do anything for those set of ideals, and then the narrative continuously tests them and pushes them to the edge. Whether or not the character follows through in their ideals or finally reaches their limit doesn't matter to me, I just like seeing them wrangle with their decisions lol

This is why I didn't like s1 Jayce (who to me was a candle in the wind) but I loved s2 Jayce- for s2 Jayce's arc basically revolved entirely around Viktor, from the beginning where he made the decision to bring him back w/ the hexcore (despite Viktor telling him to destroy it), to the end where Jayce basically decides to die with Viktor in the ether. Jayce was brought to his absolute limit and we got to see him grapple with the decisions that he had to make.

Silco was the same in s1, to me he goes through his own personal "corruption arc" in the sense that in s1e9 he betrays his own ideals for Jinx and finally understands Vander's position. He and Vander probably started out as the same idealists, and then the narrative kept punching him in the gut and forged him into who we saw in s1e1. A lot of this is off screen but just the idea of him (after his fight with Vander) sort of losing his moral compass bit by bit which all culminates to producing shimmer just to prove how much he's willing to fight for Zaun, and then later on realizing there is a final line he won't ever cross...

Honestly even if he did cross that line and went like "haha I don't actually care about Jinx" I would still love him as a character (just in a massively different way since he would be like. A completely different person. Idk I watched the Penguin recently and I still fucking love Oz and also my favorite asoiaf character is Stannis so. LMAO.)

Sorry this turned into a bit of a rant HAHAHA but as for your other questions, yes I love drawing his nose as well, honestly it's funny seeing young Silco art that doesn't have his nose where he just becomes an emo anime boy. I'm just like who are you that's not Silco thats Simon LOL

Idk about specifically designing other outfits for Silco though, I just draw him in what feels right for the moment (?) I guess my art process currently is more like "what am I trying to tell with this" rather than just playing dress up dolls (not that there's anything wrong with that! Just not my thing) Like, for that AU last drop thing I drew, Silco, Mylo, and Claggor are all wearing smth more casual since the vibe was like 10am on a Sunday morning but Powder is wearing her normal clothes since she just pulled an all nighter with Ekko (well ok they fell asleep at like 5am before Ekko rudely ran away lol), and Vander was already up anyways probably to do bar admin stuff idk.. so if you're asking me directly what I think is in Silco's wardrobe I'm kind of drawing a blank fjskdmmsmfd

And yes I do concept art/illustration for video games for a living :)

#erio stuff #sorry this went wayyy off tangent i think #idk i think about silco a lot i just dont rlly have any opportunity to talk about him unless ppl expressly ask i guess

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lightblueminecraftorchid · 2 years ago

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Me: I don’t really like wearing dressy clothing, I hate clothes shopping, I don’t like putting effort into my appearance-

*finds dressy clothing that doesn’t hurt to wear, finds clothes that fit me on an online store with exact sizing measurements, finds little ways to put effort in my appearance that doesn’t require makeup or other painful things*

Me: …ohhhhh. it was the sensory issues.

#turns out I do actually like dressing up lol #I just like doing it in a way that I have agency over #and that doesn’t hurt #wild how that works out #the amount of sheer euphoria over having agency over my appearance and putting effort into it #without critique of ‘oh you need to shave to wear that’ or ‘those patterns don’t go together’#or being heavily encouraged to do or wear things that physically hurt #is INSANE #and I get compliments! clearly other ppl don’t think what I wear looks bad!#and I don’t need to wear nylons or nail polish or makeup to do it #I’m not hiding anything

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sysig · 2 months ago

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I’m turning you all into marketable plushies, you watch (Patreon)

Bonus eyes because embroidery brain:

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #Max Vyer #Dexter Favin #ZEX #Original #Cure #Bar #Caleb Stern #Brain has turned to plush mush lol #Tsumtsums really feel like the correct outcome here for those two hehe ♪#I actually went about looking over my like - one and a half Tsumtsums to get a grasp on their construction #Y'know for funsies just to see just to be curious #I think they wouldn't be all that hard to make - something to consider anyhow #I was also thinking about the Tsumtsum sneezing thing lol - many Max all flopping around a Dex! Or many Dex overwhelming a Max haha #Still on the ZEX plush brainrot of course of course he's just so cute ;;#Thinking a lot about construction of his eye :0 I see the appeal of printed fabric so you don't have to contend with large embroidery #Or seams - especially on circles hgwegh not my favourite #Just want it to be flush and flat! Eye-shaped rather than any bulges hmmm how to how to #I'll figure it out - there's ways to make recessed edges in plushies too! Just a matter of how #Few originals to throw into the mix ♪ Cure's already a plush bear! Specifically with the plush pattern I have on hand #I personally don't care much for the pinch style of sewing on features but I feel like at least for her ear inlays that'd probably work best #For the ''meaty'' part of her ears maybe that could be full and proper lol #Barrr <3 Just now realizing how off-model I drew him lol but either way! Huggable! ♥ I've looked- ball-jointed plushies are Kind of a thing?#Even if it was just by shape tho it'd be awfully cute :) And to dress him up in a tiny jacket hehe #More of the Helix lads! Bit cleaner now that I know a bit closer what I'm aiming for hwah they're so cute ;;#I do think it'd be really fun for them to have different eye shines based on their personalities :D #It wouldn't be all that much more work - maybe a lack of practice on specific shapes but apart from that #And rounding out with a short joke lol Caleb's the shortest! It's only right that he'd be a smaller plush! Obviously! Lol

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oozeandgoo-art · 9 months ago

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#oc #haven #rex #monochrome #contents: a little raunchy for tumblr #doodle #really high effort one but it's about the shapes more than anything else lol #meme redraw #comic #i may color this. the original plan was to color it. however i spent all my energy for coloring on drawing an aftermath coda #im fond of this one. there's a lot happening in it #haven and rex are both dressed "up'' to annoy the other's plus-one minor enemy #<- specific au element #rex is wearing a weezer shirt because haven knows that'll piss off taran. haven is dressed up like rex's best attempt at a mid-00s surfer #because he knows felyx cant fucking stand haven and is also into buff masc dudes dressed in jeans with rhinestones and thinks it'll be funn #to put felyx in the Lustful Colander #(he is right)#haven's house is not actually a cool neat influencer home or whatever there's no like open floorplan white walls light bamboo floor bullshi #going on here. it's all like green and red granite tile and shit. the man has been around for a very long time he knows what kind of decor #he's fond of. those ARE fish tanks in the walls though. and a spiral staircase #the man has been around for a very long time. he does not give a shit if what he likes is 'tacky'#also when the one speechbubble he says gets weird it is because he is using a magic power and forcing rex to put his cigarette out. rex is #naturally kind of annoyed about this. it used to make haven wince when he put his cigs out on his hands so he keeps doing it every time thi #happens but he has not yet cottoned on to the fact that haven has fully stopped wincing and now just thinks it's a normal habit he has #and has no idea that it's specifically aimed in his direction #also haven has no issue with giving head but rex isn't aware of that. they don't communicate well #and what Rex is actually aware of mostly consists of 'asking him to bottom turned into a giant argument and then a physical actual fight #and he broke my jaw in like four places over it and it was awesome but i didnt get what i wanted' and kind of gave up on the subject #he couldve been getting his d!ck sucked this whole time and he didnt know it. so sad #lineart

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icewindandboringhorror · 9 months ago

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More misc. daily life pictures and such

#image commentary in tags once again since they don't allow captions anymore and I feel weird using the alt text for that --#1 & 2 - Very bright pretty looking sky !#2. HUGE icicle that looked like you could kill someone with it or something.. Pulled from near a gutter on the side of a building #3. & 4 & 5 - various images from a silly party I had where I pretended to be some elf king turning like 204 years old lol (also not like #a REAL party. Only my roommates were there really and we're all in the same household bubble.#just to clarify. I would never dare have a large party anyway given #my hermitous nature but on top of that.. didn't want there to be some implication that I'm having a Party while covid is still ongoing lol.#NEVER.. But I do love dressing up as some fantasy character so much.. The only thing that could ever bring a true hermit wizard #to engage with others socially is the prospect of connecting it somehow to fantasy worlds and costumes lol. One must simply dress up #as a silly 200 year old man from time to time and pretend you've never seen a balloon before in your life. etc.#6. bapy boye... feets #7. The main food that I made for the elderly elf man 'party'. which was a Deconstructed Beef Wellington (kind of as ajoke since I watch s #o many silly cooking competition shows and they always make stuff 'deconstructed' at the last minute when under time limits or whatever.)#I've wanted to make beef wellington a few times but Ithink to do it well I'd need like..an actual kitchen and a lot of time and #an oven that fully works to bake things and etc. etc. So I thought this would be an easier method. A thick steak cut round to kind of mimi #c the round tenderloin or whatever it is in a wellington. instead of the puff pastry being wrapped around - I just did star shaped cut outs #of pastry and baked them and put them on top (to go with the star theme). instead of mushroom duxelles being wrapped around in pastry #its in a little circle under the steak. and instead of mustard being brushed onto the meat I made a mustard gravy sauce type of thing #Then of course asparagus on the side.. my favorite... Though I know some wellington #also has a layer of prosciutto I think. or I saw one person use crepes. I didn't feel it was necessary to incorporate that too lol #8. bapy son helping me do a giant puzzle that took me hours and I had no idea it was actually that large of a puzzle #until I started putting it together and for some reason it made me stressed by the end instead of relaxed lol.. puzzle fatigue #photo diary

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bmpmp3 · 3 months ago

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Getting into stuff that has a lot of pre-announced release dates is really good for me like vocal synthesizer products and new love live etc franchise music releases....I'll be lying in bed at like 2 AM with ur usual 20-something's fear and existentialism over time and the future and then I'll remember a piece of singing software or a new song related to cartoon characters I like is gonna come out like next month and I'm like 😌

#this keeps happening to me with the upcoming december #miki and kiyoteru sv.....im so excited...if they get delayed ill scream #jk jk ill be fine but i do hope we get some demos in November soon!#soyogi still doesnt have a concrete release date but hes also probably december #now if HE gets delayed i will actually explode. i will spontaneously burst into flames #the other night i had a dream about aivoice2 ryuusei coming out. which is a normal thing to happen #it literally was just like i went online and saw videos people made with him SHDBFBSJFNFN #premonition dream...this is what will happen in november #but it reminded me i wasnt as familiar with how aiv2 sounds with a2sync. i like the aiv1 kotonosync situation #BUT it is very noisy and the vocals usually sound like lalavoice with the slightly obvious looping #which is charming but not as versatile in the grand scheme of talk synths made to sing #just the nature of it. but a2sync sounds FANTASTIC i was really shocked. im curious how his #particularly deep voice will sound compared to a more medium gentle tone like iori but im excited #im really curious how he'll sound compared to vv humming ryuusei #now what weve seen of his design.....im not suuuper into quite yet. its not BAD and well see when its fully out #but i dont care for the blue hair bits. im picky about hair dye in alternate designs #i like his gray black default situation too much. also i DO like how slutty his design is looking #but also it might look um. a little too much for a talk synth? like brother whats going on here #why are u so dressed up to chat ....i guess for fun #then again his aiv1 design was also probably more appropriate for singing synths rather than talking But I like that one more LOL #doesnt matter too much for me though im more interested in the unofficial singing side stuff AHDBFHSHFBDJJD #which also reminds me i hope someday aiv1 vy series can get a aiv2 update #a full singing synth would be nicer but i wouldnt mind a talk turned singing synth. i know everyone hates the aiv vy designs #i dont hate them theyre not great but theyre fine for talk synths. i think nancy is hilarious. white woman jumpscare #im not a huge fan of the main fanon vy designs (theyre good but they dont fit to me) so i dont mind the aiv ones #even if its just two random people SHBFJFAJFJFJSJJF but yeah i hope they get a aiv2 someday #i think it would be fun to make em sing with a2sync hee hee #also on the ll end i am so excited for dia birthday album end of dec #AND all the new liella tunes. i still havent watched the new season because i havent been able to sit down and enjoy it yet #but soon....next week ill have time...sooooooon

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solalunar-eclipse · 2 months ago

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To everyone in the comments begging for a fic about this: PLEASE go read Heart of Gold with Blood-Red Eyes!!! It’s by this artist and features Shadow in a similar dynamic with Fleetway Super Sonic, and it is fantastic.

#shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonadow #NOW THEN IT IS TIME FOR MY REGULARLY SCHEDULED ‘LOSING MY DAMN MIND OVER YOUR ART’ SESSION #i want to start off by saying that you’ve done such an amazing job with the background!!#the color scheme is just wonderful—and those spiderwebs on the wall are INCREDIBLY GOOD #(said as someone who has tried and failed to draw spiderwebs before LOL)#it’s funny to see charmy (as a superhero) and vector (as a pirate) just absolutely raiding the snack table…#they WOULD do that wouldn’t they XD #tails also looks so cute and small!! i don’t know why just his genuine smile is very sweet #AND YO KNIGHT BLAZE!!!! SHE LOOKS ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS #amy’s witch dress looks lovely too you’ve rendered her full skirt so nicely #and it just brings me joy to see both omega and silver seeming genuinely invested in their conversation #NOW THEN! the main duo…how do you draw the backs of their quills so well…i’ve heard that’s a difficult angle to do but this looks perfect #also i cannot believe that you’ve managed to give sonic three unique expressions and yet also show that undercurrent of smugness #that he has throughout the conversation leading up to the twist #and i know i yelled about shadow’s outfit in the vampire art you did early in october #but aughhhhh i LOVE his bat wing eye markings they just suit him so so well #honestly the vampire look in general does look fantastic on him #which is exactly what’s so helpful for sonic with those blood-red eyes in the last panel…#AND THEN THE ENDING ART. GRHRHRHRHRH GRAAHAHHHHHH RAAHHHHH I LOVE IT!!!!!!#WAIT I JUST NOTICED. ARE HIS BACK QUILLS TURNING INTO WINGS????? THAT’S SOOOO COOL #plus the fact that sonic still has his cape and shadow doesn’t really turns the tables—because as much as shadow may seem like a vampire #when sonic’s in motion like this cape and everything? he looks every bit the vampire he is #but i also very much enjoy the fact that he looks like a silhouette against shadow showing how everything’s fading into the background #EXCEPT for the bite. which is of course in the same neon green as the shock markings #and in general the posing of this and the way everything’s so off balance just looks absolutely fantastic #actually um. orion if you’re still here…i know i have so many other things to write but would you be interested in a tiny fic of this?#it wouldn’t be anything big and it’d just be stuff we’ve chatted about—but seeing all the eager people in the notes just…#…makes me want to do something. no worries if not though! anyhow this piece is fabulous and i am officially out of tags XD

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screampied · 20 days ago

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#CANDY-CRUS(H)ER! t. fushiguro + s. kong

ৎ୭ sum. so, you unlocked a new hot character who just so happens to be toji’s best friend. greaaat! what’s not so great, you might ask? you thinking you can take both of them at the same time . . *digital side eye*

wc. 8.2k

warnings. fem! reader, rent-a-dilf! au, thręesomes, dilf! toji, loser girl reader, unprotected, shiu is sassy for no reason, size differences, spít-roasting, double pęnetration, overstim, praise, ōral (both), dry humping, spanks, manhandling, cowgirl dp, rubbing tips, dirty talk, shiu has a dick piercing, bręeding, bromance? LOL idk, tummy bulges, implied multiple rounds.

an. hi this literally picks up after the first fic! (/ε＼*)

“i feeeeeel like . . i just walked into a bad porno.”

as you’re snuggled up against toji with a burly arm of his wrapped around you, your eyes gradually enlarge. instantly, you couldn’t help but allow your curious eyes to wander at the brand new character who toji apparently already knows.

shiu fuckin’ kong . .

with a lit pink cigarette (that you personally customized for him while dressing him up) sticking from the corner of his lips, your eyes take in his naturally suave appearance—he’s fashionably dripped in a business suit just like how he appeared in the game. it’s a dirty jet-black color, and his hands were already buried in his pockets. he’s tall too, very verrrry lean, you’d guess around the same height as toji.

shiu’s got a demeanor that just screams raunchy respect. as you continued to stare, you heard toji smack his lips from behind your ear . . and oh was he already irritated.

“tch. out of all people, you match with him?” toji grumbles, still feeling the soreness in his calves.

shiu snickers, walking up to the two of you before he grabs your hand. softly, he brings it up to his lips, caressing a thumb over your skin so lovingly. “glad we finally get ‘ta meet, pretty doll,” and shiu’s got a thick husky voice that’s got such an attractive smoky rasp. you could feel your heart fluttering just from that simple gesture, and then shiu’s eyes fell toward toji.

“ah, and… toji? i didn’t know the game allowed bums on the roster. how.. cute.”

narrowing leafy eyes straight back at him, toji lets out a snarling grouse. “anywaaays,” and he turns toward you, a near pout on his lips. “sugar, you can like to delete him now . . or whatever.”

you giggle. “i can’t do that, i wished for him, silly.” and you could already tell toji was getting jealous.

he practically reeked of it, but that’s probably what happens when you get too attached to fictional characters…. oops!

toji huffs at your answer and within a blink of an eye, your attention is already wholly fixated on shiu.

just …. like …… thaaat.

you’re still nude with the fluffed covers shielding your bare chest before your eyes start to rove and wander yet again. shiu hunches over the side of the bed with the same cigarette sticking between his teeth.

in a way, now that you think about it.. he actually resembles toji.

they both had dark black hair — growing, ruff facial hair with strong, citrusy cologne scents.

shiu’s was far much louder though, even louder than toji’s whose you’d always be able to smell from a mile away.

however - you’re so kept up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize he is now cupping your chin.

“my my, girl. look ‘atcha,” shiu’s low voice pitches naturally, taking a subtle glance at a very annoyed toji before tittering. “mhm, mhm. gorgeous face with an even more gorgeous body, my kinda woman,” and as he continued to speak, brushing a thumb over your pursed spit-glossed lips, shiu tilted his head. “toji couldn’t handle a fine girl like you, pretty doll.”

“like you could.” toji cockily crosses his arms, bulgy veins in his arms protruding within each confident flex.

“oh i can, sweetheart,” shiu looks at toji while he’s still caressing your chin.

you held back a giggle, hearing toji’s ‘weirdo…’ of a mumble slip past his lips at the little petname shiu gave him.

the air felt substantially thick, and you had to repeatedly blink again, and again and again..

this still didn’t even feel real.

the more the soft pad of shiu’s thumb smears alluring circles over your lips, the more you can already feel butterflies bubbling up inside of your tummy. looking down back at you, shiu hums hoarsely. “tell me, dove. what do you want, hm?”

“i…” you timidly croak, nearly gasping once you can feel yourself throbbing underneath the thick covers.

fuck- you just couldn’t think straight. but if you were being completely honest though, you stopped thinking with your brain a long time ago..

you were now thinking between your legs, because as the throbbing above your thighs started to quickly accelerate, you whined out a pretty, “i want you both.”

“oh, please.” toji scoffs, the mental image of having to share you nearly making him gag.

not that long ago, he had one night with you after you wished for him - just one night, and he wanted you all to himself.

he still couldn’t get over how good you rode him, milking him until he was whining for more.

“you heard her, toji,” shiu pried his finger back away from your wet lips, giving his best friend a teasing pat on the shoulder. “the pretty girl wants us both.”

“technically, she wants me. you weren’t even here in the last fic-”

“the… what?”

they started to bicker right before your eyes and you couldn’t help but eye roll.

they were practically arguing like an old married couple.

arguing over . . well, you.

you laid back against the plump pillow as you watched the two broad beefy men before you talked each others ears off. toji was still shirtless, and your eyes landed on his back sometimes expose his entire ripped physique every time he turned to his side.

countless, lightning-shaped scratches ran down his back like stripes, and you felt a bit sheepish knowing you did that.

toji rubs a hand over his neck before hearing a slight ‘crack!’ and groans from the release of tight muscles. you didn’t know why, but the simple action alone made the throbbing from earlier pick up again.

“finee,” toji ends the argument, a pout still displayed on his lips. “whoever makes her cum the most wins.”

shiu smiles to himself—sexily positioning his tie with a single hand before they’re both now turning their gazes toward you.

this was your cue to dramatically gulp, and you did before feeling a cool heat of air starting to wash between your thighs.

as the two men stood before you, you already knew one thing for sure. .

you were about to absolutely crushed - literally.

it didn’t take long at all before you found yourself bent over - arched on all fours with your tongue already rolling its way out your wide open mouth.

your hands, as wobbly as they were, pierced deeply into the rickety mattress. the second shiu lays his tongue flat against your wet cunt, you couldn’t help but mewl out a cute ‘ooooooh!’

he’s positioned behind you, his rosé-colored cigarette tossed in your nearby trash can as he holds your hips in place. meanwhile, toji’s in front of you with a hand placed on top of your raised chin.

“sugaaar, eyes up here,” he grunts, feeling your hands quickly claw their way at his freely nude cock.

toji was still tender from earlier and oh - you knew that entirely.

it’s probably only been about a few hours and he was already missing your pretty tight throat wrapped around his dick. he also couldn’t help but miss how warm you felt from the inside, how good you always clamped on his achingly needy shaft.

“ ‘m gonna need ‘ta see you work that mouth again for me, can you do that?”

“mhm-” you moan, caught off guard once you hear a wind of spit loudly preparing itself in shiu’s mouth.

thick, stubby fingers vertically swipe down your clit before with a messy ‘spat!’ - shiu ends up creating a sticky mess right against your entrance. you’re shivering, starting to lose your train of thought the second his crooked lips invade your folds with a barrage of open-mouthed kisses.

shiu’s messy - and he knew right away how to put his tongue to good use.

two, large hands cup your rocky hips before his pointed nose starts to zigzag its way down the sopping slot of your pussy. “yeaaah, girl, arch more against… mmph- my fuckin’ face,” he grunts, and you’re whimpering before wrapping a hand around toji’s veiny length.

like always, it stands tall before you—his tip a pearly flashing pink with remnants of dried cum dribbling from each stout side.

shiu could feel your hips frantically raising and spotting that cute, adorable arch of yours grow higher from each twisting curl of his tongue inside of you.

as his parched tongue reaches even deeper angles, he flicks his tip against toji’s cum that still lived inside of you. remnants of it still plugged into you, and he didn’t bat a single lash at all once he started to ‘clean’ you up.

“hah- such a sweet taste.” he purrs, using a thumb to spread the right cheek of your ass wider.

shiu lays his tongue fully flat, starting his way from the very top of your hole before slurping down. each loud squelch echoed through your ears, bouncing through each of your thinly made walls.

you honestly felt bad for your neighbors . . then again—this entire time, you sort of forgot about their sheer existence.

oh well! fuck them!

girl, not actually..

but toji and shiu were the exception though!

with shiu still devouring your cunt, you feel toji shuddering once you start to glue a few sloppy kisses against the tender head of his cock.

it’s poorly swollen still, with a blushing pink as a few veins decorate the sides. your hand that wraps around his shaft starts to give it a few pumps, feeling him already melting like wax near the wick of a candle.

“mhm-” his hand grips onto your hair, tightening by the very second. you couldn’t think straight with shiu repeatedly fucking his tongue in and out of your dripping cunt though.

every time his stubbled mustache would brush against your entrance, you’d holler out countless pretty moans. “sooo . . fuckin’ pretty,” toji rasps, cupping a big hand underneath your relaxed jaw.

you’re still stroking him, hearing the wet sloshes of your palm against his skin pitch louder before he groans. with ravened bangs running through his halfway-open eyes, toji brings his angry red tip towards your glossy puckered lips. “ ‘y gonna open for me? f- fuck, that cute throat of yours looks a bit empty.”

instantaneously, your tongue sticks itself out and you moan once toji starts to play with you again.

smack! after smack! - and he’s just softly hitting the teary cream-coated tip of his dick against your needy, sobbing tastebuds continuously..

a curving smirk starts to run across his lips as he watches that pout slowly marinating against your saddened features. “aww, look at that ‘lil frown, so cute,” he teases, your tongue still perfectly rolled out of your lips. shiu’s still eating you from behind, nibbling every few seconds against your nub just to earn a whine out of you. “manners, princess. y’know this.”

“please,” you’d spat, mentally cringing each time his hardened cock slapped itself against the tip of your tongue. you wanted more than just a cheap millisecond of a taste. so so bad..

whiteish strings of pre-cum and your saliva mixed from every time he’d pull his length away from your poor twitching lips. toji hears the wretched whine cutely gargle its way out of your voicebox, and he hums in amusement. letting off an irritated grunt, you poutingly correct yourself. “pretty.. please.”

“atta fuckin’ girl,” toji praises with a slight grumble, greeting your spit-glossed lips with yet another kiss.

he was feral, the sounds of teeth clashing only grew louder by the second as you started to pulse again.

shiu grunts, feeling you sneak a hand near the hem of his slacks. as your wet lips were still being tackled by toji’s, your thumb ghosted against his cottony boxers. the waistband folds from your touch and shiu breathes sharply, inching closer toward your face.

“aw, don’t hog her, toji,” shiu whispers, bringing his pursed lips to yours.

now - they were both kissing you, fighting over who could make your lips swollen first.

you moaned, tasting treacly slings of saliva depart from all sets of lips. toji tsks silently, poking his tongue inside your mouth while shiu playfully nibbles against the bottom of your lip.

you felt so hot - both of them started to put their hands on you, feeling all over your body and you couldn’t help but arch from all the burning touches.

“f- fuuuck.” you’d whimper, your tummy tucking inward in excitement at the feeling of shiu’s fingers skipping down your tummy.

they both had one thing in common for sure. they were fuckin’ handsy..

shiu’s feeling down your chest and toji’s got one hand holding the back of your head, another caressing down your thigh.

“hah- still a messy girl.” toji utters, squeezing your cum-glossed lips together before leaning up close, bringing you into a very hot kiss. you’re moaning, feeling toji’s callused open palms explore their way down your body - pulling your hips up oh-so eagerly.

his knee finds its way between your legs and you pout again. instinctively, that’s when your body starts to hump against his meaty limb.

“heh- she’s so excited,” shiu observes in a smoky whisper, getting up and pressing himself behind you. his lips were still slickly coated with your juices and he licked it clean - his tongue flirtatiously sliding around every damp spot.

with him being the one that was only fully clothed, you whined, feeling shiu’s hardened bulge of a tent press up against your bare ass.

he’s brick-hard, and shiu lets off a guttural groan once you playfully buck your ass back against him before rubbing against toji’s thigh once more. toji’s fat thumbs create a sensual path down your body, locating each pretty curve before grabbing your hips.

cocking his head slightly, his tongue dips inside your mouth before he starts to suck against your slippery wet tongue.

it’s a slow…..intimate action and with peeking flapping eyelids gradually opening, you could see his hooded green eyes already eyeing you.

he’s basically eye fucking you - intently locking eyes with you whilst his tongue battles yours in such a wet yet competitive way.

whenever toji kisses you - he’s just so greedy.

barely even giving you any time to breathe, he sloppily maneuvers his tongue against yours, groaning at each wet share of slaps! that resounds from both smacking lips.

his tongue even slithers its way out of your mouth for a split second, licking down your chin just to get it a bit wet.

shiu rolls his eyes, feeling the bulging tent in his slacks grow the more he stares at you and toji hungrily make out with each other.

“my turn,” shiu grumbles, softly pulling you away. gasping for breaths of fresh air, your lashes flap open for a second and you face shiu.

darkened brown eyes meet yours before he leans in, giving the left side of your neck a nice quick whiff. “mhmm, dove’s already startin’ ‘ta smell like me too, toji..” he whispers lowly, starting to suckle his lips against numerous tender spots of your skin.

you moaned, feeling toji nibble at your other shoulder with his hands meeting your rickety hips.

shiu’s touch was a bit softer, and more gentle while toji was more firm and hungry..

shiu’s painfully slow kisses (that almost felt like the entire world was pausing in the process) made you tingle the deeper he sucks against your tilted neck.

once he finally gets up to your face, shiu cunningly grins once he sees you cutely closing your eyes.

“ah, what’s this? were you expectin’ another kiss?” and your pout was your answer. a sweet, pouty frown tugs at each corner of your lips before shiu kisses the side of your mouth. “aw, poor thing. don’t pout, ‘m just messin’ with ya,” and within milliseconds, shiu’s lips finally slam against yours.

you felt a cool rush jolt down your body, moaning at the grasping, rough hands of both men touching each part of your body.

you’re still grinding against toji’s bulky thigh while whimpering against shiu’s lips - relishing in the faint fresh leavings of smoke on his tongue.

shiu’s got a bittersweet taste to him, and he brings a hand toward the back of your head, softly tilting it to a certain degree. “so needy for more.”

toji starts to breathe heavily, and he’s holding your hips in place, making you stay still. with airy pants leaving out of your wheezing lungs, you couldn’t help but circle your cunt around the center part of his thigh with your hips by shimmying yourself just a bit.

a candied whimper cuts out from your larynx at the sudden tenderness between your legs and you can feel shiu slowly smiling against your lips. “mhm? gonna make a mess on my thigh, girl? ‘s that why you can’t stop humpin’ on me?”

“mmph-” you’d moan as an inaudible response, your noises muffled due to how shiu’s tongue was still shoved down your throat.

you felt so tender. your entire body, it felt like you were on fire - between your legs, specifically.

you couldn’t help but wind your hips back against toji’s thick thigh, your hands finding their way toward your breasts to touch yourself while grinding against his leg.

“mhm, tryna give us a show, too?” toji grunts, verdant squinting eyes roving down your pretty chest.

your grinding doesn’t stop - in fact, you were only starting to get quicker.

shiu’s taking your breath away, literally, and he now starts to lap up the drool that drips down the crevices and corners of your chin. “such a diiiirty girl, didn’t know you get off ‘ta humpin’ my damn thigh, baby.”

“f- fuck, ‘m gonna hah- ohmygoddd!” you’d break away from shiu’s lips abruptly, your back arching as your hips finally come to an overwhelming halt.

you’re cumming - hard, and your cute battle cry of an orgasm was always music to their ears.

you’re feeling hot all over, and you’re steadily whimpering as you shamefully bury your face into the crook of shiu’s neck.

toji’s thigh was still propped up underneath you, slowly soaking with your slick wet mess as your ass continued to pathetically rock back ‘n forth against his veiny leg. “u- ugh, fuuuuck fuck!”

shiu reaches between your legs, giving your overstimulated cunt a niiiice squeeze before raising a brow. “y’er actin’ like this ‘n we haven’t even been inside ‘cha, yet.” you shivered, gasping once you felt the silvery band of shiu’s watch rub against your cunt.

slow - deep, thorough circles..

he’s smearing the front-protected part of the jewelry against your folds, feeling you cutely pulse against the protected glass.

it steams up right away from your wetness, and shiu could even hear just how wet you were.

your pussy was quite vocal—it was loud, sobbing and crying out little wet squelches of its own and you were still so so sensitive..

it’s cold the more he rubs it against the entrance of your pussy and he snickers at your reaction. shiu then starts nipping kisses near your neck once your body starts to shudder from the touch alone.

again, so sensitive..

the watch band instantly gets wet due to the syrupy stickiness that ran between your thighs, rubbing against the leathery strip. “she’s a wet girl today,” toji grunts, sliding his thigh from underneath you.

for some reason though . . you still couldn’t fathom that this was actually real.

toji fushiguro and shiu kong.

both sandwiched between you, sharing you- treating you like a mere rag doll.

then again, maybe this was a sign for you to stop reading so much fanfiction in your spare time and maybe…not get your back blown by literal fictional fuckin’ characters!

but fuck that.

why even bother to care when you can just be delusional right here…right now?

you’re interrupted from your thoughts once more once shiu pulls you into him. “dove- just a bit ago, you did say you wanted us both, yeah?” and you gulped, meeting toji’s eyes as he was on the bottom.

he’s laid out, beefy legs spread with his arms tucked behind his head. cocky cocky cocky.

you held back a moan once your eyes trailed down his overly hairy chest. so much of it too…

dark black bushes decorate down parts of his chest with his tummy a bit round ‘n plump at all angles. you’d probably melt if toji sank all of his weight on you. just putting you in a perfect mating pres-

“hey, focus, pretty,” shiu cups your face. you look at him, leaning into his gingerly soft touch and his body heat practically radiates against your exposed chest. “didya hear what i said?”

“y- yeah,” you sheepishly clear your throat, feeling his hands help you straddle over toji. “i can.. i can take you both.”

humming, shiu easily unbuckles his pants and his pants fall to the floor with a loud thuuud!

toji holds onto your hips tight, groaning before starting to give his cock a few solid beginning strokes.

the anticipation merely killed you - you couldn’t help but turn around, eyes nearly the size of table saucers once you see a glimpse of shiu’s cock.

he’s thick, and to top it all off, of course, he had that pretty ‘lil piercing through his dark pinkish frenulum.

prince fuckin’ albert..

you’d almost forgotten- that was yet another detail you decided to customize while toying with him on the game.

you requested for shiu kong to specifically have a dick piercing along with some of the other … vulgar things you arranged on his character.

you’ve heard about dick piercings but it’s hotter and different once you’re up close.

it’s somewhat pretty in a way - perfectly highlighting his tip as the steel piercing hooks over his frenulum.

it’s tucked right in, all the way in… and yet, for some reason… the more you stared, the more you started to feel yourself salivating.

you gulped so loud that you were almost positive one of them heard you.

shiu’s got a plethora of prominent veins running down each side of his shaft and it proudly stands tall, creamily tearing from each pinkish-tan corner with tears of milky precum.

“heh- i told toji ‘ta get a piercing like this but of course, he chickened out. me personally, man-”

“oh, fuck you,” toji grumbles, narrowing his eyes straight at shiu.

you hover over toji’s length which was also sheeny from the very top. it’s almost cute how his entire tip was so mushroomy and angrily flashing with various blushing colors of reddish pink.

they were both super super thick, and the mere thought of feeling them both stretching you out from the inside had your metaphoric panties in a twist. “i gotcha, sugar. look at me.” toji continues.

“oh, f- fuuuck,” you’d inhale deeply, your cunt immediately opening up at the welcoming gradual stretch of toji’s swollen cockhead.

you’re so tender, slowly sinking your way while your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip.

you’ve already felt toji - but shiu…

your heart’s pulse dramatically quickened by the second as you sank sank sank on toji’s fat cock.

“mhm,” shiu presses his chest against you, helping you secure yourself over toji’s lap.

with toji laid back comfortably, shiu’s right behind you with an arm snaking around your torso. a big hand meets its way between your legs, dragging a stubby thumb down your cunt that’s being stuffed with only about a good half of toji’s length so far. “let us hear that extra stretch, girl,” shiu hoarsely coos against your ear, aligning his leaking tip against your hole.

as a soft ‘mmngh!’ comes out from your lips, you land flat on toji’s hairy chest and he catches you with a smug grin, kissing your forehead.

but god - shiu’s stretch was simply out of this world. your eyes widened even larger than they already were as your lips pathetically spread apart, shaping into a surprised ‘o’ shape.

shiu’s stretching you out in every way possible. he’s groaning once he hears the pretty harmony of squelches leaving from both slick orifices.

his hand remains between your trembling thighs before his fingers start to rub against your pussy.

“there it is. that pretty stretch. ugh- there she fuckin’ iiiiis,” shiu reaches for the wooden headboard, nearly in awe at how perfect you were taking them both. your cunt squawks wetly, and your jaw just couldn’t stop itself from hanging.

the metal ring that glues on top of his tip immediately introduces itself against your puckering hole, giving it a sloppy frigid kiss of its own. with both stout shafts leisurely making their way into you, you were already panting like a dog.

“f.. fuck, so fuckin’ nghhh- big.” you’d moan, a sweaty palm of yours instinctively gripping a part of your ass.

with a tiny ‘lil shake of your hips, you started to grasp your bearings—attempting to start up a pace but cutely failing. saying that they were both big though was purely an understatement.

toji and shiu both had girth for days.

every inch drove its way into your gummy walls deeply, easily locating every possible opening they could rummage through.

you probably looked a mess already as your mouth remained open, dribbling from the corners of your parted sheeny lips with globs of drool..

you honestly couldn’t even compare them though.

inch after fuckin’ inch.. they were each huge in their respective ways - rightfully so!

slowly yet surely, they’re both making their way through your clenching insides as you finally start to rock your pathetic hips forward.

riiiight as toji’s cock sloppily plops! its way against your cunt, he’s fatally bottoming out. while he’s made his way past the tight ring of your barrier, you’re shaking against his chest with your mouth cutely agape the entire time.

“good…hah- girl. clampin’ down on us so good,” toji wheezes, already starting to break a sweat. he’s got your hips glued to his clammy palms, lowly grunting each time he feels your body’s grinding against them trying to quicken. “f.. fuck, shiu. she’s…hah- perfect, ain’t she shiu.”

“mngh- yeah, she is,” shiu groans, slowly starting to thrust forward.

you looked so pretty. from this view, he’s seeing all of your pornographically twisting, facial expressions at once.

you’re whimpering, nearly drooling yet again the more both of them fill each hole like it was nothing. you were sooo slick too - too slick, sloshes and squelches singing out of your pussy every time you rockily slide up ‘n down..

you’re damn near full - and your eyes rolled way back at the delicious stretch that curves through every end inside of you.

shiu’s piercing was the very cherry on top—the icing on the cake.

he’s tickling you in your most sensitive spots on purpose, making you whine out continuous wails of his name until your voice grows raw.

“s.. shiu, f- fuck, uugh-” and toji playfully flicks your forehead, hungry for more attention. “ow!”

“i’m inside you too, y’know.”

you rolled your eyes, nearly forgetting you were being double stuffed for a moment before you leaned in to kiss toji.

he grumbles against your lips, a hand creeping toward your ass before leaning into your sweetly-tasting embrace.

toji’s swallowing every individual moan that trickles away from your wet lips - savoring the saliva that lingers on the flat of your parched tongue.

“mmngh,” he’d then grunt, swatting a hand against your ass. shiu’s groaning while still behind you. his hips strenuously started to buck at a much more bumpy pace.

right then though, his waist snaps! right into your throbbing core, causing a single vigorous thrust to make you squeal.

right there-

your pussy clenches…then clamps…then clenches again and you’re feeling them both reach deep deep deep!

each targeted hit was sloppy - wet, sobbing out squelches every time your ass softly bounces back against toji’s warm lap.

your skin flawlessly ricochets against both bodies that were glued against you. “f- fuuuck, harder.” you’d pant, breathlessly whispering between kisses.

toji grunts, watching as you friskily swipe your tongue across the scar that slashes down his lip.

“mm- arch a bit more f’ me, pretty doll,” shiu roughly murmurs, his abs underneath his dress shirt tightening from each pivotal thrust forward.

oh, his hips were just nasty though. shiu’s literally drilling into you now - acting as if his hips had the occupation of a construction worker.

your sweet, sweet whines that were never-ending, filled the room with the addition of your bed’s creaking cries of mercy. lifting your hips, shiu presses a wet kiss against the inside of your neck. “hah- atta girl, stay like that. juuuust like- that.”

right at the end of his gravelly sentence, shiu’s cock punctuates your core so good that you’re just speechless..

dumbfounded.

entirely stupid.

your lips leave toji’s as you’re whimpering, weakly rocking against his chiseled frame that reclined underneath you. “o- oooh my god, ‘m gonna c.. cum… gonna.. -ngh!” you’d gasp, your left leg already starting to shake.

you’re salivating immensely from both corners of your mouth, taking a second to swallow once you feel toji’s scarred palm slide its way underneath your tummy.

there!

as his hand rubs around the spot, he’s pressing his palm over. a bulge starts to form before disappearing . . then forming again.

“mhm, look at thaaat,” he rasps, sliding a finger around the outline that faintly molds a shape.

they’re in so deep - so fuckin’ deep that you’re barely able to formulate words, let alone coherent sentences as you’re just whimpering out the same three syllables of their names combined.

it’s the same wiiiide stretch occurring after each sloppy thrust and you never get over it. you’re still moaning despite your voice already turning a bit raw..

as you’re still rotating your ass around each cocks that stuffed you full, you’re feeling shiu’s hands spread your ass apart juuuust to see your full puckering hole.

he can’t help but pull out every few seconds, poking a thumb inside just to feel you cutely slump back. every surprised ‘ooooh!’ you’d make always made shiu’s dick twitch - and fuck, did you feel it every time.

occasionally, you felt the bushy hair of toji’s base tickle against your skin. you’re steadily arching, feeling every nerve in your body shiver.

“ ‘m gonna..f- fuckin’ cum too,” toji falls back against your sage velveteen cushioned pillows. you almost forgot how he was still sensitive from before. all because of you.

you’re laid right up against his chest, studying how every few seconds, his expressions would twist.

his hazed, green eyes nearly resembled a color of an emerald—toji’s gruffly groaning, maintaining a solid grip on your hips before huffing out an abrupt. “s.. sugar, ‘y gonna milk me again, f- fuck.”

“always such a baby,” shiu murmurs, snickering once he sees toji’s glare from a blurred side glance. your cunt was so slick, covering them both from the veiny shafts down as you rock rock rocked against them each.

sweet yelping ‘ah’ ‘s would yelp out of you as the pressure continues to build.

their mashing tips were competitive—harshly smearing gluey kisses all around your cervix.

you’re moaning, leaning back against shiu’s chest as he gives your pussy a soft spank. “mhm- pretty doll, cum with toji,” he leans into your ear, his voice a hushed dirty whisper. “make him whine for us, can you do that f’ me, pretty girl?”

“y- yeaaah, shiu,” you’d reply, grabbing his wrist and making him cup onto your jiggling breasts. they were just so pretty - loosely springing free as you bounced, grinding your entire weight against toji’s lap. “fuck, f- fuck.”

meanwhile, shiu’s hands continue to explore your body with them both still puncturing each of your wet orifices.

that same cruel stretch that would occur every few wet split seconds had your back arching, toes submissively curling, jaw idly dangling.

you swore that these types of scenarios only happened in the fanfictions you read, sort of like like this one—i mean, the ones you’d randomly stumble upon in your spare time.

now that it was actually happening though, you never wanted this moment to end.

“fuck, ‘m cummin, - hah,” toji groans, his breath catching in his throat once your hand wraps around his neck. exactly as your fingers snaked around his thick throat, you felt toji’s dick twitch inside of you.

you were both reaching delirious peaks at the same time, moaning together at the sprinkles of elation that spiked through each vein and axon of your body and his. “u- uuugh, take it all, girl. better take it..”

“s.. shit,” you’d whine, your release forcing you to subtly slow down the speed of your hips as the two of you end up finishing.

it’s a slow rush.. and shiu’s still behind you. his hand that was gripping your breast slowly trails its way down your sweaty chest.

as you’re riding him again - toji’s life flashes before his eyes… at least in a video game sense.

it’s almost as if you could see the little pixelated hearts floating above his head, and one suddenly disappears the moment he comes inside of you.

two lives remaining left ! ! !

“g.. god,” he whimpers huskily, clammy sticky black bangs gluing to his forehead. toji’s washboard abs clench as he’s shooting blanks, shooting said blanks deep into your womb. it’s hot, bubbling into your cunt as you writhe around each dick that is stuffed inside of you. “ ‘m gonna marry y’er pussy one day, baby. sooo . . fuckin’ good.”

“hah-” shiu pants, a hand resting on your back, tracing a few imaginary lines down your skin. “like he can even afford a marriage license anyway. i’d have to be the sugar daddy for you both.. heh. not that i’d mind.”

“shut … up.” toji grumbles, wrapping his arms around your torso. you’re still moaning, feeling the gooey masses of cum creaming all down your slit, creating a pearly sheet of slick that eventually coats shiu’s cock also.

it’s a mess-

that much was apparent, but toji could tell by the feral little look in your eyes that you wanted more..

greedy girl.

and more did you get - because once it’s your turn to ride shiu, you felt a feeling of butterflies you’ve never felt with toji.

shiu’s got a different kind of aura to him, an aura that is a liiiitle bit different than toji.

like it was mentioned earlier… just a single glance at shiu kong and you just know that he’s the type of guy who demands respect.

“tch. guess i’ll just go fuck myself,” toji rolls his eyes dramatically, a pout fully displayed on his grim face.

he was obviously kidding and, it was cute to see toji so jealous. he’s had a sweet taste of you for one time and he already wanted more - more of you, and all for himself.

but you did summon shiu from the game also, so double the fun . . right?

you couldn’t help but giggle, watching how toji’s eyes would darken a bit at seeing shiu starting to align you on his wet tip. “shiu- make sure she’s nice ‘n we-”

“toji sweetheart, thank you- but i know how to please a lady,” shiu sassily replies with a tone of suggestive jest, one hand already gripping your waist. “up up, pretty doll. raise those hips f’ me real quick, yeah.. good girl-” he instructs in a raspy voice, feeling your slick cunt gush a bit.

it’s a loud ‘pssssh!’ that squeaks right between your legs, and you’ve seen gnawing on your lip as his pierced cock’s starting to rub circles around your drooling entrance.

“mmh- fuck, shiu,” you’d moan, trying to position yourself right. he’s slouched back with his tie all ruffled, messily about to pull itself out of his suit before he grunts. the coldness of the dick ring makes you shiver, gasping once his hand sharply smacks your ass. “spank me h- harder.”

“mhm- i planned on it, gorgeous,” shiu gravelly whispers against your ear, bringing the center of his palm against your backside once more.

swat! swat! swat!

and your skin jiggles upon impact, pitchy whines leaving from your dried-out throat each second. “ooh, good girl. y’er spoilin’ me with allllll this perfect ass, ‘m afraid, dove.”

toji gets behind you, and you feel his callused fingertips run down your spine once shiu starts to finally lower you down.

it all happens in agonizing slow motion, and your lashes flutter at his wet lips painting even wetter kisses down your spine. you were always a sucker for his touch—frowning at each wet peck that glues against your skin like paste.

“how’s it feel, sugar?” toji murmurs, rough textured hands dragging further down your skin.

your entire body rocks back against his chest, whining loudly once the crude stretch starts to commence again.

shiu grunts, feeling you start to move - seductively swerving your whole ass around in all kinds of circles and shapes.

gasping for each languid breath you possibly could, you whine out a sweet little, “good- mmh, fuck so good,” and you could feel your mouth watering at each millisecond that passes.

his thickness… oh- you’d probably never ever get used to it.

shiu’s fat tip doesn’t take long to disappear inside of you, inviting itself inside of your walls before you give him a loving tight grip.

the pierced crown of his cock massages its way around your cunt, moving its way around before its shimmies into your slobbering core. “s- sooo good, shiu. don’t stop.”

“hah- can see why ya like her, toji.” shiu grits through his teeth, combing a hand through his dampened black tresses.

with his right hand damn near glued to the left jittering cheek of your ass, shiu gives you another hard swat. you’re fully riding him now, the bed’s sudden creaking supporting that very apparent fact before he groans.

“she fits reeeeal nice, mmh- her pussy’s fuckin’ dangerous,” and as he starts to fan himself, slumping back, shiu starts to lie slouch, letting you take over. “…phewww.”

“told you.” toji grouses, a hand finding its way around his cock that’s pulsing with exciting veins. he watched how you were just perfect - effortlessly working your hips on shiu.

you’ve got a grip like shiu’s never felt before.

each time your ass violently slaps back against his meaty thighs, he’s getting whiplash.

shiu’s entirely taken aback too. his grip on your ass lessens as he stares at you with bleary, hooded eyes struggling to open. “mmhhh, work it, girl. fuck me.. f- fuck me,” he’s lowly grunting, feeling his cock already tightening from the inside.

toji’s next to you, flicking his tongue against your neck before sucking on it deeply.

he’s making sure to savor your taste - and oh did you taste sweet.

sweet like candy, and toji fushiguro’s always been one for an occasional sweet tooth; a sugar rush.

the real rush though, was the way your scent drove him crazy.

toji couldn’t help but briefly break his lips away from your skin, trailing his nose down your neck before groaning.

you tasted sweet but fuck was your scent far far sweeter. it was a mixture of your scent along with the manly concoction of them both. both colognes that were so loud in the air, rubbing off across every single part of your body as you moved.

“atta girl, use those hips,” toji huffs, a hand returning on his cock. while giving his cock a few strokes, he’s pressing himself against your back. “f.. fuck, doin’ so good for us. make shiu cum, baby.”

“ugh- damn, she knows how ‘ta fuckin’ ride.. s.. shiiit-” shiu swallows thickly, taking occasional glances at your ass that merrily bounces right back against his cock.

his pierced cockhead plummets its way deep inside of your pussy, tickling against every sensitive spot it could. “yeah, y- yeah.. yeah… look at me, pretty doll. look at me while you ride this dick like a fuckin’ hah- champ.”

“f- fuck,” you’d moan, leaning forward into shiu. that causes your arch to make an arch and it’s a sexy arch that makes toji groan just spotting it. you’re inwardly dipping your hips whilst his sticky fingertips probe all against the near heart shape of your rotating ass. “ ‘m gonna cum again, shiu.”

with a hand softly going around your neck, shiu pulls you in close for a filthy, hot kiss that makes your cunt pulse almost right away.

toji’s rubbing a hand against your stuffed full entrance and you’re whimpering against shiu’s lips. your body’s still rocking at such a speed that even shiu could barely keep up. as your dripping tongue swirls its way around him, he opens his mouth to give you better access.

teeth fiercely clash into each other as both lips smack continuously. shiu’s starting to thrust into you now, slightly raising his hips just so he could pound into you and it makes you gasp.

“mmph-” you’d moan, taking toji’s hand and making him squeeze against your cunt. a thumb of his swipes down your soddened nub and you shudder, still tongue-tied with shiu.

“f- fuck, ‘m cummin’.” he groans, breaking away from the kiss with your damp lips landing on his stubble.

shiu’s sloppily raising his honed-structured hips into you and he’s hitting you good from the inside. his tip’s greeting your cervix like it’s no tomorrow, and you’re whining once your release smoothly follows.

blanks - the two of you shoot blanks, each cumming hard with both jaws dangling like an earring.

you’re holding onto shiu as sweet little yelps shriek out of your throat. “fuck, f.. fuck!” you’d whimper, toji’s hand still maneuvering circles around your convulsing cunt.

shiu’s eyelids were drooped all the way low - he was exhausted, and yet he’s still got that sleazy grin on his face as he’s pouring pasty stripes into your overflowed pussy.

it’s sticky ‘n slimy, two perfect words to describe the mess that was a reoccurring thing for the two of them when it came to you. he pops a feverish miry knot inside of you before it bubbles its way out, sloppily dribbling down the twinned valley of your cracked open thighs.

“g.. goddaaaamn, girl,” shiu spanks your ass one last time, tears and tears of sweat racing all sides of his forehead.

he’s overly glossed in sweat - fanning himself yet again before falling back against your pillow. “hah.. toji,” he looks up at his friend who’s still pouty, stroking his cock and desperately wishing he was inside of you once more.

you looked so hot though - your arms wrapped around shiu as your ass slightly raised.

your neck slightly cranes to see the mess cascading down your sopping clit and you finally see it. creamy fresh clumps and it’s all flowing down your opening live a river - a more lewd version though. its in such a carnal way at how slickly it drizzles down the slot of your sopping pussy that’s overly coated with such amounts that it makes them both grunt.

“mmh.. such a nasty girl,” shiu continued, gently pulling you off of him before playfully rolling you over. “with hips like those, i… hah- might have to keep her,” snickering once he sees toji’s scowl, he corrects himself. “geez, i mean we..”

♡ ♡ ♡

as you’re still trying to get after release after release, you're seeing nothing but a galaxy full of stars.

it’s probably been many many, various…hell- a plethora of positions and you could barely think straight.

toji and shiu each took turns ‘sharing’ you, which mainly consisted of them constantly fighting over you.

you honestly lost count of how many orgasms they snatched out of your left and right. you were almost entirely sure they’d both forgotten about their little bet - seeing just who’d be able to make you cum more.

“f.. fuck,” you’d moan, flopping back against the bed. you’re out of breath, struggling to catch your breath as they both depart. toji’s flustered and shiu’s reaching for a lighter in his wrinkled pants that laid flat across your bed.

“tooooji,” shiu murmurs, pushing the the second pink cigarette between his teeth. “mmph- be a doll ‘n light this for me.”

“die,” toji glares - but despite his insult, he does it anyway.

you’re just laying flat on your pillow, watching the oddly brief intimate moment between the two as your chest heaves in and out.

with green eyes glaring straight at shiu, he leans in close, flicking a thumb over the lighter’s rusty turning wheel.

with a sudden click! the incandescent glowing flame flashes for a split second, burning into the dry butt of the cigarette.

shiu hoarsely hums, inhaling before lowly purring. “thank you, sweetheart,” and before he could even care what toji’s next response was, shiu gets between your legs.

shiu’s hands were so warm… they spread your slick-dripping thighs apart perfectly, getting a nice view of the mess they both created.

with the cigarette still tucked firmly between his teeth, he swipes a thumb down your buttery-coated clit that’s glittering from the entrance with wads ‘n wads of freshly hot cum. “such a…messy girl,” and he’s so close that his balmy breath wafts against the opening of your pussy.

you moaned, seeing toji licking his lips through your peripherals. tilting his head, shiu pulls out the stick for a moment, breathing out a cloudy puff of air. “toji, c’mere. our girl needs a proper cleanin’.”

“tsk. shiu, don’t tell me what to do,” toji grouses under his breath, already inching his face closer between the sprawled-out arc of your thighs.

so, so pretty -

they each filled you to the very brim. every single orifice was stuffed, oozing with such syrupy amounts. lanky strips of velvety cum plugged deep into your full womb, making you feel warmer than you’ve ever felt.

your toes curled as you sweetly whimpered, feeling both of their tongues create tender strokes against your pussy.

they ‘ahhh’ lowly, sloppily slurping their messes as you’re writhing on each twitching muscle that laps against your runny folds.

“mmnh- don’t stop,” you’d whine, pawing both hands at the crowns of their jerking heads.

instantly, your fingers get tangled with every ravened hair that silky runs through your fingertips.

gawking down with blurred irises, they’re both lewdly eating you out at the same time. shiu’s eyes were closed and he was all calm, a small tiny smile creasing against his lips . .

meanwhile, toji, he’s just glaring at shiu. a vein nearly bulges out of the side of his forehead as he cups his lips around your cunt. he’s eating you out like his life depended on it.

of course- everything with him just had to be a competition.

not that you were one to complain though.

two of the men that you wished for on this stupid dating app… game… whatever it was had you living every girl’s dream.

eventually though, as they’re lapping hot tongues up ‘n down your sticky cunt that’s painting each of their chiseled chins with a glittery wet stream of slick, you lean back moaning.

with your back submissively arching, your toes shrivel into a cute curl once more. they roll their tongues all the way flat, dragging and fucking its entire length inside of you just to hear you squeal.

toji’s dipping his tongue in and out while shiu’s thoroughly licking around every area - and eventually, their tongues end up touching.

but as you’re moaning, you suddenly feel them stop.

panting, you look down, muttering out a quiet, “w- what happene.. oh.”

and much to your surprise (not really), you glance down and see the two of them making out.

making out and eating you out at the same time. shiu snickers, cupping toji’s face with one hand, his cigarette gripped with his extra remaining fingers.

your pussy the third wheel- literally, and their lips mash against each other and your folds as they compete even still at devouring your twitching heat.

toji’s kisses back, grunting once he feels shiu reach between his legs—wrapping a hand around his friend’s length.

you grow meek, watching the two as you started to pulse—they were tongue deep, and toji’s veiny shaft was tender from shiu’s touch alone.

shiu grabbed his dick, rubbing his pierced tip against toji’s and they both groaned upon contact.

the plush textures of both swollen cockheads were so tender - as they rubbed against each other, you heard them both quietly groaning.

toji whined though, it was faint but you definitely heard it.

“i’m…literally….still here guys,” you force a grin, your lashes flickering within each blink.

“yes, girl. we know,” shiu murmurs with slight sass in his tone, reluctantly prying away from toji.

they’re both panting like untamed animals—tasting remnants of you on each of their sticky tongues before finally departing. shiu then turns toward you, leaning in, and gives you a head pat. “i think we’ll take it from here.”

with confusion aching near the left lobe of your brain - your brows furrow, staring at the pair and how toji suddenly bends over.

what in the...

“hm, toji. let’s see if your arch is as good as i remember.” shiu cocks his head, rubbing a finger underneath his chin.

toji grumbles before cockily snickering. “it’s better than hers, that’s for damn sure.”

“excuse m-”

“quiet, pretty doll,” shiu interrupts you with a warm smile. he gives you a kiss on the forehead, seeing the invisible question marks pop all around your head before turning back to toji.

“but, oh yeah? let’s see it then, big guy. show the pretty girl how it’s really done.”

6K notes · View notes

fatherbrat · 2 months ago

Text

ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA

sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation

wc. 1.2k

When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.

sunarin liked your post.

rin ;)

lmk if you want me to delete our pics. and hmu when you two break up :p

You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to.

Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk.

Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%.

When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention.

sunarin liked your story.

rin ;)

Voice Message

The voice message is 12 minutes long.

You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence.

You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone.

But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win.

You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation.

The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.

But then you hear a heavy sigh.

“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”

There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening.

But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”

You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie.

You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at.

“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”

You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms.

“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”

This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would. Is he—?

“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”

Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off.

“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”

You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him.

Or you could let the message keep playing.

Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick.

“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”

Under different circumstances you would have laughed.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.

“I’m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”

You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message.

“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.

“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”

Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.

“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”

You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.

Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.

“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.”

You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.

“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”

You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you.

That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.

You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath.

You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”

He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”

The voice message ends.

part two

#suna smut #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #fatherbrat ♱ library #sunarin #hq #tw cheating

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simpjaes · 8 months ago

Text

NIGHT-SHIFT (p.sh)

Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does. or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague.

minors dni

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 4.5k

WARNINGS― dub-con since reader doesn’t know it’s him.

CONTENT― office setting, sunghoon is a service top/soft-dom/whatever his clients need lol

NOTE ― this was supposed to be a drabble, but i just....it needed a little more plot sorry. it's not very good, like fr this is not up to par with what I wanted... but i wrote it so im gonna post it.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― dubious consent, cam sex/virtual sex, dirty talk, masturbation instructions, umm…finger fucking, jerking off, fantasies, role-play type stuff

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

What are the chances? Honestly, what are the fucking chances?

Sunghoon sits up quickly from his relaxed position upon hearing a voice far too familiar on the other end of this call. He’s lucky he doesn’t have his camera on just yet, you’d have seen the embarrassing reaction to…well…hearing you of all people.

He knows the world can be small sometimes, but this is too small for comfort as he hears your muttered voice through the microphone again.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” You say.

“Ah, uh–” Sunghoon pauses. There’s no way it’s actually you. Can you not recognize his voice too? “What type of call did you request again?”

“Full service.” You remind him.

Oh. You’re into this kind of thing? That pretty, well-mannered employee of his? The one who sips coffee quietly at her desk while actually responding to her emails? The one who never shows up to co-ed parties? The one who always dresses appropriately and addresses him in a timid way?

You…just paid a cam-boy to get you off in full? Not just any cam-boy either, you paid him?

God, his cheeks are so heated at the arousing thought. Never once has he ever imagined you in any scenario that doesn’t involve excel spreadsheets and finances. Arguably, you’ve probably never thought of him all spread out fucking his fist either but…you’ve blatantly seen him do it already.

He wonders how long you’ve been seeing this part of him, how long you’ve been getting yourself off all alone while he puts on a show for hundreds, and sometimes, thousands of people.

As detrimental as this is, it’s his job to do this. You paid him to do it, just like how he pays you to do your job. He can’t be letting this hold him back. No, in fact, he needs to get this hour long session over with as quickly as fucking possible.

“Right,” Sunghoon lends a chuckle, nervous sounding on his end but to you it just sounds cheeky. “Can I get your name, babe?”

You’re quiet at first, never having done this before and absolutely not wanting this random horny guy to know who you are. Honestly, you already requested that only he turns his camera on during this call as well. As if you’d give out your real name. You give him a name that rhymes with your own instead, and there’s another chuckle after.

He knows you’re lying. Out of all the employees that are under him, you’re the one he has to correspond with the most. After all, you’ve been up for the promotion to being his assistant for the past three months. He knows that isn’t your name.

Smart girl, just like he knew you were.

“Is that so?” He tilts his head at his blank screen in amusement, watching the microphones light up with each breath. “Alright, and you’ll do everything I say, yes?”

You nod to no one, realizing he can’t see you and instead giving him a hum and gentle words of “of course.”

His image flashes across your screen just moments later. The same as his usual streams. Face out of frame, hand strong and willing, his cock out and on display– only half hard.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Sunghoon calls out now, as if to show you that it’s time to begin, your almost-name falling from his lips shortly after. “Don’t hold your breath, you paid good money for this, and I want to hear you.”

Oh man, this is embarrassing for you to be doing this. But truly, anything at this point is better than another night all alone.

And he does hear you. Relishing in that voice he hears day to day reciting memos and budgets, only this time, you’re calling out pleasurable reactions to how he tells you to fuck yourself.

He’s good at it too. You can’t help but listen to every word, touching and massaging when he instructs you to, stopping just short of orgasm for him to ask, “That feels good, doesn’t it? Wish you had me doing it for you, isn’t that right?”

Always using the fake name. Giving you full-service by the end of the call.

Safe to say, you’re feeling refreshed by the next morning as you ready yourself for work, wanting very much to book the infamous ServiceKing again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Fuck, he can’t even look at you. Not after the way he got off last night.

Not after hearing you moan out the way you did while he simultaneously imagined you all spread out on his desk for him. Not after hearing the fucking wet between your legs as you frantically tried to cum when he told you to.

Not after you did cum for him.

“Mr. Park–” You chime through his door, not quite noticing the way he stiffens in his seat.

God, if you had called him that last night…

“Hm?” He composes himself by acting bored and uninterested in whatever papers you have held tightly against your chest. “What is it?”

“I got the statements back from our parent company, I think–”

“Great. Just set them down on my desk.” He cuts you off, patting his desk before hoping you get the fuck out of his office before he ends up breaking office rule number one.

What is office rule number one, you might ask? Never fuck a co-worker. What’s worse is that you’re not his fucking co worker. You’re his employee.

You raise a brow at his demeanor this morning. The usual not-so-up-tight Sunghoon appearing far too distracted today compared to usual. Most mornings, he’ll at least give you a smile and a “thank you.”

“Mr. Park, is there anything I can get for you?” You ask with concern in your voice.

Sunghoon pauses every thought in his head as he looks at you. Narrowing his eyes and wondering if maybe he’s just overreacting. Maybe he's mistaken and that girl from last night isn’t you at all. After all, there’s plenty of people with the same pitch in their voice. She didn’t even turn on her camera, and she gave him a different name anyway.

Maybe he just wishes it was you.

“No, I’m fine–” He says, mistakenly calling out the fake name rather than your actual name.

You miss the way his eyes widen for a split second before correcting himself to your real name.

“Ah, my apologies. Got a little tongue tied.”

You stand there in shock. No way in hell he just called you by the name you spoofed to a cam-boy last night. Coincidences can be so weird, and being called that hits you a little too close to home.

It feels awkward in the room now and both of you play it off as a genuine mistake. Though, to you, it has to be a genuine tongue-tied version of your name. Sunghoon couldn’t possibly know about that. Besides, he appears to be more tired than usual anyway, so…you choose to believe it’s a crazy coincidence.

You give him a nervous chuckle as you wave yourself off and out of the room with a small “It’s okay, you know where I am if you need anything.”

What he needs is to watch his fucking mouth. What he needs is to stop thinking about how you just reacted to being called that. What he needs is to pretend that none of this is happening and do his goddamn work.

And he tries. He really does. Unfortunately, his eyes go from blurs of numbers and words on spreadsheets to the window of his office. Just outside of it. You.

How is he supposed to focus after kind of, accidentally, practically fucking you? Sure, he never touched you but…it really was you. The way you reacted to that name was so telling, and he can’t help but actually check you out now.

You, with that body. You got off to him, with those legs of your spread out while staring into a screen. All alone, listening to his voice, moaning for him…and now you’re just sitting there in your business casual outfit like he’s not unintentionally getting hard.

So, he avoids you. At all fucking costs, he avoids you.

You get up from your desk? So does he, making sure that if you start coming his way, he’s walking out and in the opposite direction. You send him an email? Out of office, despite clearly sitting at his desk. You call his phone to ask a question? He forwards you to his current assistant.

And this happens for days. To the point you know that promotion is slipping from your fingers.

Naturally, you’re frustrated with the office-dynamic. After all, you’ve heard rumors of picking favorites. You thought you were one of them, but it appears that Sunghoon may just decide to try and beg his current assistant to stay with bribes of double pay.

You’re more frustrated as the days go by. Leaving work yet again with no good-byes from the boss who used to show appreciation for how hard you worked. He’s colder than usual, he’s stiffer than usual, he’s– a fucking asshole these days.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ping!

Sunghoon stares at his secret email in disbelief.

NEW REQUEST FROM: [your email/username]

$500 PENDING.

FULL SERVICE.

Requester note: work has been hard lately, will you help me de-stress for a little while?

[ACCEPT REQUEST] [DECLINE REQUEST]

Sunghoon hovers over the decline button for a solid thirty seconds as he burns a hole through his screen. Work has been hard for you lately, huh? Has it now? Try being him.

He shifts his mouse to the accept button, wondering if he even needs that extra five hundred dollars. Those funds just to suffer more at work? Just to suddenly have the need randomly throughout his day to make you moan for him? Just to have the sounds of your pretty voice echoing in his head more and more the longer he ignores you?

His finger clicks, hitting the accept button as he lets out an exasperated sigh.

Why did he just do that?

Wait.

Maybe this will help him get through the work weeks. Fucking you through words alone in secret, never telling you who he is, always letting you use him even if it’s just through audio and visual stimulation.

After all, if you found out who ServiceKing is, you very well may quit. Hell, you might get him fired. Fuck.

This is dangerous.

Yet, he feels the excitement in his gut before it even hits his cock as the clock ticks. He gets to hear you again soon, you get to watch him cum again soon, he–oh, he’s so turned on right now just thinking about it.

And the time comes too slowly for his liking. He feels as if he’s been edged by the time the two of you enter the call and he’s immediately turning his camera on.

“Ah, look who it is,” Sunghoon starts, already positioning himself with a raging hard cock on the screen. “Had me wondering if you’d come back to me.”

You don’t know why your cheeks heat up, but the feeling in your gut is miles better than the frustration and anxiety that you felt throughout the day.

“I was wondering the same thing,” You speak into the mic meekly, hiding your face despite knowing he can’t see it. “I just need to get my mind off of stuff for a little while.”

“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon chuckles into the mic, his face perfectly hidden. “Wanna give me some context? Maybe I can use some of the information for–”

“God.” You immediately start, shutting the man up on the other side of the screen in an accidental frustration-dump. This is not what you paid him for, but you still appreciate the space to release your brain before, well, your cum. “My fucking boss.”

Sunghoon’s ears perk up, lazily stroking himself as you continue with a frantic voice.

“I swear he just flipped on me. I thought I was doing so good, I thought I was gonna get that new position, but now he’s just ignoring me and treating me like some temp or something.”

Sunghoon hums lowly, listening intently to the way you bring him into conversation to a man that…unfortunately, is that very same boss.

“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Sunghoon continues palming himself as he soothes you through your frustrations. “Your boss isn’t praising you.”

You pause, feeling a ping in your gut.

“If I were him, I’d praise you every day–” Sunghoon softens his voice. “Every night.”

“Oh…” You listen to his words, feeling your frustration melt out of you in an instant as you now focus on the way his cock twitches through the screen.

“Wouldn’t let you go a second without thinking of how good I am to you.” He continues, both hyping himself and degrading his day-time self. “If I were your boss–”

You interrupt his words with a very quiet groan, he fucking heard it.

“Mm, you like that?” He smiles to himself, gripping the base of his cock and thrusting up to show the full size to you. “The thought of your boss liking you a little too much?”

You hum. Not that you’ve ever thought about it too deeply, but now that he’s said it, praising you, putting down your actual boss, telling you what he’d do if he were him?

You guess, for tonight anyway, you’re into it.

“What’s his name, babe?” Sunghoon asks, wondering if you’ll actually out his name to a stranger.

“Park Sunghoon.” You expose him instantly, full name and all, even with a bit of bite in your voice.

Damn.

“Oh, yeah?” Sunghoon draws back, jerking his hand up once. “I’d fuck you better than Park Sunghoon.”

You smile at the thought, imagining yourself with more power than Sunghoon has. Like you’re his boss, you’re the one dangling a promotion just out of reach before giving it to someone else.

“See this?” The man on the screen grunts out to you, fucking tight thrusts into his fist. “Watch me, baby, get a good look.”

And you do watch. Intensely, you stare at his big cock, the head of it darkened and leaking with each pass of his hand. You’re not even touching yourself at this point, but it’s like you can feel the force of it.

“Now, I need you to open those legs for me.” He instructs you.

You do as he says much like before, letting your legs fall open but not yet letting yourself touch. You still sigh at the movement, your panties alone shifting were enough to make you want to hump your hips up.

“Now, turn on your camera.”

Silence. Your ears ring momentarily at the words as you immediately close your legs.

“What?” You ask in a higher-pitched tone than usual. “I requested for no c-”

“No.” Sunghoon mutters, shifting his position to lean towards the microphone and whispering now. “You do as I say.”

He hears you huff at his words, but he hears the shifting around on your end.

“I want to see that pussy open for me.” He continues in that same low-rumbled voice. “I want to see what Park Sunghoon is missing out on.”

You don’t know what it is about this situation that turns your discomfort into pure, rushing arousal. Never in your life have you ever considered fucking yourself on camera, especially after paying someone else to do it for you, yet–

“Do I have to show you my face?” You ask quietly, already trying to find a lower-face-mask just to be safe in case you lose your composure and accidentally reveal yourself.

“No,” Sunghoon assures you through a deep breath. “I already told you what I want to see.”

More silence save for the shuffling he still hears on your end.

“Open your legs and turn it on.” He encourages you now, keeping his hand still on himself as he waits to see if you’ll actually do it.

And…

Oh fuck.

“There she is.” Sunghoon hums, trying to keep his composure at the way you give him access. Honestly, he didn’t think you would, but you do, and all he can do is lay himself back again, staring straight at the image of you.

Your face is out of frame much like he is but this is the first time he’s ever seen you with so little clothing on. No bra, thin tank top, no shorts or pants, just panties. It takes everything in him not to moan out at the image.

After all, it’s confirmed to be you.

Fuck, that’s you right there.

“Already so wet too?” Sunghoon groans now, focusing on that spot between your legs, probably so slippery and warm.

You’re very shy though, not moving much better yet speaking as this faceless man takes in your image. You feel awkward, but still turned on despite squeezing your legs together and hiding that spot from him.

“Oh, baby–” Sunghoon coos out in a way that makes it seem as though he was endeared by that. “That’s not going to work.”

You’re more focused on your embarrassment than you are on the way his cock leaks and pours pre-cum at the image he’s witnessing.

“How am I supposed to show you how much better I’d take care of you?” He continues, reverting back to the same role play from before. “I bet that boss of yours wouldn’t want to bury his tongue in you like I would.”

Your legs fall open at the words, and he can see the way you thrust up just slightly.

“That’s it, you need someone to touch you, don’t you?” He continues, watching you intensely. “Need someone to lick that pretty pussy?”

You nod, once again forgetting that he can’t see you do it before you finally speak.

“Please.”

His moan after hearing you seems far more intense than the first time you did this with him. In fact, he appears entirely focused on you. Role playing in some way but somehow acting more real than last time too.

“You deserve some love for all that hard work.” He says to you, encouraging you to keep talking for him. “Play with yourself, go on. You need it.”

You follow his instructions on instinct, as if your body truly does need the release.

“Feel it– not too hard, just graze over your panties.”

Ah, still you listen, holding your breath at each feather-light touch you give to yourself per his request.

And he watches. Hyper-focused on the way that darkened spot on your panties grows bigger and bigger. So wet for him doing exactly what he wishes he could do for you come tomorrow morning.

“Your other hand babe, slowly, lift your shirt and–”

He doesn’t even have to keep instructing you. You do exactly as he wanted, lifting your shirt gently before playing with your own nipples, still lightly grazing your fingers over your swollen clit that’s restricted by your panties.

You moan quietly at the feeling, wishing so much that it doesn’t have to be your hands doing this.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon hums, now working his palm against his own length, gentle, barely grazing it. “Now, look at me.”

You draw your eyes forward, the image of him already arousing from before, but now? Why is he so much hotter now? As if the screen is nothing but a window into his bedroom.

“You see how hard I am right now?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you continue to work yourself up to near-sensitivity. “Never been this hard for anyone else.”

Oh, that’s bullshit. He does this as a job. He’s just sweet talking to you for sure.

“Been thinking about you since the first time you booked me.” He continues, keeping the touches light and making sure you don’t press on yourself too hard either. “Was hard all week for you.”

Okay, yeah, maybe you are a little too into praise. Lie or not, it’s exactly what you need to hear right now.

“You're gonna be just as good for me tonight too?” Sunghoon hums, tightening his grip. “You’re going to push your panties to the side and show me that you missed me too, right?”

Yes. The light touching has been nothing but torture at this point, wanting so badly to be told to do more. For yourself, for him.

You barely recognize how your embarrassment leaves your body when you stretch your panties to the side, letting him see how they stuck to you only to unfold in a glistening mess for him.

“Messy, messy, messy.” Sunghoon moans, struggling so hard by now not to fuck his fist straight to orgasm. But no, he can’t ruin this moment.

That’s your pussy, looking so wet and tight, so needy.

“Gently still, open up for me.” Sunghoon groans lowly, watching so closely the way you spread open your lips for him, the hole pulsing and dribbling so much slick.

Never in his life has he ever wanted to bury his tongue into someone this badly. Goddamn, he’s nearly obsessed with you at this moment. He loses composure.

“Fuck–” He seethes, feeling his cock twitch wildly against his hand. “I want you so bad.”

Those words feel more real to you than anything else. Virtual sex is one thing but to have a man blatantly moan those words to you as if he means them? As if he has never let it slip for any of his other scheduled calls?

“What’s the name of your boss again?” Sunghoon asks, pretending as if he forgot, just to hear you say it.

He notes the way your pussy clenches through his words too, as if he can see the confusion not through your expression, but through your arousal alone. Asking you that turned you off.

“What’s his name, baby?” Sunghoon presses, offering an excuse. “I wanna know who it is that gave me this tonight.”

Alluding to the fact that the only reason you’re paying him is because your boss made you feel like you need release in some way.

“Park-” You start, not wanting to deny his demands. “Sunghoon.”

“Ah, yeah.” Sunghoon holds his breath, closing his eyes briefly just to let that breathy voice sit in his mind before focusing back on you. “Two fingers babe, slide them in.”

God, you listen just as well as you do at work. He should have given you that promotion the day he saw your application. Even without seeing you do as you're told in this situation, he already knew you were going to be getting that interview next week.

He listens to the way your cunt swallows up your fingers, so wet and needy. Swollen around the two digits as you slide them in with a breathy sigh.

“Spread your fingers, open up.”

You do, presenting your opened core to him without any shame at this point. Allowing him to look, wanting him to look.

“Now, say–” Sunghoon swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you Sunghoon.”

Your pussy pulses around your fingers, recoiling again at the name.

“Say, Thank you Sunghoon, for all of this stress.”

He continues, trying to encourage, adding another lie of an excuse just to get you to break.

“Because, if it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be needing to take care of you like this, now would I?”

In your horny brain, it makes sense.

“Thank you, Sunghoon.” You moan, plunging your fingers into yourself without being told to do so, moaning out for the faceless man on the screen at your break in composure.

And, well, Sunghoon himself is on fire. After all, you’ve only ever referred to him as Mr.Park, and hearing you practically moan his name in such an intimate way? It does nothing to keep him from spiraling into an even more selfish mindset.

“Again.” He instructs you, watching the way your legs shake through saying his name.

“Thank you Sunghoon.” You continue, as if the words are natural despite feeling intense irritation for the man. “Thank you.”

And, well, that very name you’re moaning is now also moaning. That little fake name you gave to him falls from his lips after you say it each time, fucking into his fist and hoping you’re watching, nearly unable to ask you to stick another finger into yourself.

Not needing to ask at all, apparently, because you do it yourself. You even bump your clit up against your wrist too.

Shit.

He needs you.

“Thank him for what?” Sunghoon starts to ask, feeling an orgasm approach far too quickly.

“For making me come to you!” You answer him as if you’re frustrated, hips bouncing up against your hand just to dig your fingers in deeper.

“What else?” He asks now, forgetting what it is he should not be doing.

“Hmm?” You answer in a drawn-out moan.

“Thank him for what else?” He repeats first, only to follow up with his own answer. “For giving you a reason to cum.”

“Yes!” You groan, now grinding your hips up and against your palm without relaxing back against the bed. Intentionally chasing as your eyes remain on him, watching him pull and tug so roughly.

“So fucking pretty” Sunghoon praises as he snaps his hips in time with his moving palm, eyes so tuned into you that– “Fuck–” He moans your name. “So pretty.”

And he didn’t realize it. Half expecting you to moan back for him, he’s still moaning as he watches you halt what you’re doing and cover yourself entirely.

“What did you just call me?” You ask in an out of breath voice.

Sunghoon repeats your fake name to you, feeling the energy shift in an instant.

“No. You just called me–” You repeat your real name to him.

“Ah, sorry babe, must’ve gotten tongue tied.”

There’s a rush of anxiety within you as you stare at the screen. There’s….no fucking way.

Given, you’ve never seen him outside of a suit. The voice you hear doesn’t click in your head as Sunghoon’s either, considering he’s never a man of very many words.

Instantly, you’re covering your camera with your hand, watching how the man on the screen spreads his legs out and drops his cock. Like he’s waiting, like he’s listening, wondering. Are you making a fool of yourself right now?

Are you misreading?

He seems calm, and if it really is Sunghoon…surely he’d be disconnecting right now, right?

Why would he even be fucking himself on camera anyway? The guy makes bank! You’re the one who sees his paychecks, after all. Still, there’s a twisting in your gut as you ignore the way you still drip against your sheets.

Very quietly, just to see, you work up the courage.

“Mr.Park?”

It’s silent for a few seconds as the man on the screen shifts, a blur of movement forcing you into a state of motion-sickness.

You almost thought he was going to chuckle at you and ask if you were thinking about your boss rather than him. You almost thought he would use that to his advantage.

You almost thought you were wrong, but– he disconnects.

A few moments later, you receive an email with a refund of your five hundred dollars.

And two hours later? Lying in your bed with anxiety in your gut, you get a text from none other than Park Sunghoon.

Mr.Park: Can we talk?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

― part two here!

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #enha smut

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