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lxnarphase · 7 months

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chef's kiss, she's a treat ๋࣭ ⚝

❝ do you like my new lip combo, baby? ❞ wc: 4.1k

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : blk!fem!reader + g. satoru + g. suguru + n. kento + h. hiromi + f. toji + k. shiu + k. choso + r. sukuna + h. kinji + t. fumihiko + t. aoi ☾₊‧⁺...cw : sloppy kissing + messy make-outs, marking, grinding + dry humping, praise kink, oral fixation, finger sucking, spit kink, overstimulation, cock-warming, dacryphilia, daddy kink, size difference + size kink, desperate men, videotaping, breeding kink

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis + a/n : jjk men seeing their blk!gf's new lip gloss/lip combo that just makes her lips so fucking good they can't keep away from her | i have been working on this for 3-4 days because it had to be PERFECT or i would never forgive myself, so enjoy this absolute filthy creation of mine that i poured my heart into 🤎 ☾₊‧⁺...tags : @currentlyaways

can't stop kissing you ↴

✧ g. satoru ; he doesn't say anything when you first come out of the bathroom, asking if you nailed the 'clear coat with the 5% tint edges' look. no he's letting out a needy, shaky sigh when he pulls you into his lap by your wrist. he looks so conflicted as he stares at your lips, running his finger just under your bottom one, not wanting to ruin your lip gloss.

"y'so pretty, y'know that," he whispers against your lips, just barely pulling away before diving back in for more. each kiss is sticky and messy from the gloss, satou having smeared it all over his mouth and yours. his hand his buried in your mess of curls as he keeps you from pulling away for air. he knows when you really need it, don't worry, just let him kiss you, yeah? you don't have a choice, not when his other arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping you in one spot. "s-shit, satoru, b-baby," you start before getting cut off by the rolling of his hips. "yeah? feel good? mn, shit, you're so so pretty, princess," he moans into your mouth, his tongue slipping past your lips again to taste you again. he can feel that he's just smudging more of your lip gloss and he can't help but whine. it always felt so fucking good knowing he got to be the one to see you all pretty and gussied up just to fucking ruin it with his touches. satoru's breathe hitches when your hips begin to grind down against his own. "pretty thing," he hisses, giving a little tug on your soft coils. "you keep this shit up, and i'm gonna mess up more than just that pretty lip makeup." you can't help but laugh against his lips, giving him a quick, messy kiss. "you started it, 'toru, 'm just finishing it."

✧ k. choso ; choso was just being a sweetheart, clingy for your attention as he whines, pouting until you kiss him on his lips. he instinctively lips his lips and is pleasantly surprised at the sweet taste on his lips. 'are you...why do you taste so good," he innocently asks, looking at your lips in confusion. when you pull out the little tube of lip gloss, pink and green, the words 'watermelon flavor' catch his eye. '...oh...can i kiss you again?'

you know you're gonna have to clean the couch. you want to be upset, but you can't. not when choso has you folded in half as he desperately fucks into your creamy cunt, his mouth smushed against yours. he's barely even kissing you, he's just fucking your mouth with his tongue at this point. all of your lip gloss has been effectively licked off by choso, but he didn't care. you still tasted like watermelon, and he wanted more. he's moaning into your mouth, pulling away from you with sticky strands of saliva connecting him to you. his hand comes up to run over your lips, whining when he realizes all of your lip gloss is gone. "'m sorry, baby, i-i licked it off, 'm sorry," he whimpers, his hips stuttering briefly as he cums. he grinds into you with a loud cry of your name, pumping another hot load into your pussy. it's okay, it's messy, but he's gonna clean you up after with his mouth. "d'you wanna taste? wanna see how g-good you taste? yeah? c-come on, open up, please." you do as he says, sticking out your tongue with a moan, and he opens his, too, saliva dripping from his tongue onto yours. when you close your tongue and swallow, choso's crying, sobbing your name, and he throbs violently inside of you, picking up speed. before he smashes your mouths together, he moans against your mouth, "so good, so f-fuckin' good, babyyy, your pussy 'n' m-mouth are gonna make me melt, i love you s'fucking bad."

✧ h. hiromi ; you had the new lip gloss on all day and hiromi was so sweet about it, giving you little pecks here and there, chuckling whenever you'd playfully scold him for stealing some of the gloss. he'd just tease you, asking if he looked pretty with the gloss on, too, before kissing you again. even now, when you're both on the couch, your back resting against his chest, he can't stop kissing you

hiromi plants soft kisses along her jawline, peppering her with affectionate whispers. "there you go, my sweet girl," he murmurs, his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your sensitive hole. "you are the sweetest little thing. you're so gorgeous today, i love it when you wear lip gloss, even if it is a bit sticky," he chuckles against your cheek, turning you to kiss you. his tongue slips into your mouth, rubbing over yours as you softly moan, trying your best to fuck yourself on his fingers. "please, hiromi," you softly keen, desperately kissing his lips, smearing your lip gloss all over him. "please, honey, m-make me cum," you whine, one of her hands moving to her glistening cunt to swirl circles around your throbbing clit. "i-i wanna cum on your fingers s' you can fuck me, baby." hiromi let out another soft chuckle, his nose nuzzling into your soft curls that were getting frizzy. "god, you're so fucking adorable," he murmurs, knocking your hand away from your clit so he could pick up speed without bumping against your hand. "of course, baby girl. i'll take care of you. just relax, and I'll make you cum all over my fingers, sweetheart."

✧ t. fumihiko ; all you do is pull out the peach lip oil and roll it on your lips, smacking them together, and fumihiko's attention is zeroed in on you. he's up in your face, asking what you just rubbed onto your lips. he can smell it, and it smells so sweet. if it smells good, it must taste good, right? you managed to stop him from running his tongue all over your lips in front of everyone at the bar, managing to pull him away when you caught that curious lick of his lips. once you're away from everyone in a corner, he's on you.

the poor thing, still inexperienced with kissing with the way he's messily pressing his lips into yours, enjoying the faint peachy flavor he swears he can taste on you. you don't have the heart to tell fumihiko it's just the peach whiskey, enjoying the way he was desperately pressing you into the wall with the force of his kisses. "taste so good," fumihiko whines, finally pulling away to look at your mouth. "gosh, i-i could kiss you all day, s-so sweet..." it's messy from the smearing of the lip oil and the mixture of saliva. just the view of you all messy...it makes him snap, his eyes wide and brow furrowed as his fingers run over your lips to smear more of the mess around. next thing you know, he's slipping his fingers into your mouth, pushing them down on your tongue. "t-this okay?" fumihiko's nervous as he asks, his free hand unconsciously coming up to wrap around your neck to hold you in place, a shudder wracking his body from the soft moan he gets from you. "that's a good noise," he mutters to himself, trying to keep himself from getting to excited. "y-your mouth 's so wet, so hot, it's not fair, i w-wanna feel you it again. c-can i put it in? we can go home, i-i wanna put my dick in your m-mouth, want to fuck it, it's so pretty—" he won't shut the fuck up now, past the point where he was able to. not with the way you were drooling and moaning against his fingers. fuck, he's so hard, he can feel the way his tip rubs against the fabric of his jeans. why the fuck did he go commando, this friction was gonna drive him mad. you notice it, too, feeling the way fumihiko was so pathetically humping into your thigh. and oh, the pitiful whine of your name he lets out is music to your ears. easing his hand out of your mouth, you press a wet kiss into his palm, looking up at him so prettily through your lashes. "c'mon, baby boy, lemme take you home, i'll take good care of you...wet and sloppy, just how you like it."

likes when you mark him ↴

✧ n. kento ; while kento was away, you felt like playing around with your makeup, trying out a simple dark brown upper lip and clear gloss look. you look so precious, your curly hair in a messy puff ball as you greet him in the bedroom. all you had on was a tank top and some pink lounge shorts as you got up from your vanity. the second he comes home, he's complimenting you, telling you how nice your makeup looks. when you ask him coyly if he wants to see the color, how can he say no?

kento is melted into the mattress, breathless as you continue to cover him with kisses. he promised he'd buy you new tubes of lipstick and lip gloss as long as you just kept kissing him everywhere. "aww, ken, you look so handsome," you say with a giggle, pressing yet another kiss on his neck. "did you miss me while you were at work? wanted your wifey to cover you in kisses baby?" you can feel his cock pulsing inside of you with each press of your lips. poor thing was doing his best to not buck up into you, to just flip you over and pound into your pretty pussy. but it was so fucking hard with the love of his life marking his entire upper body in kiss marks, occasionally licking and nipping at his skin. "honey, i'm gonna move jus' a little bit," he rasps, a groan bubbling out of him when you grind your hips as a response. "just keep kissing my neck, darling, lemme make us both feel good." the first roll of his hips has you moaning against his neck, smearing lipstick all over it. he feels so fucking deep, he's kissing your cervix with these deep, slow strokes. "god...your cunt is gushing for me, baby," he sighs, his eyes rolling back when he feels you mouthing right under his ear. "d-did, mm, fuck, did marking me up get you this wet? yes? aw, baby, you like marking me as yours?" you nod with a giggle before getting cut off with a gasp, his hips snapping up hard into your pussy. "c'mon, honey. keep kissing, i'm gonna fuck you good until you run out of lipstick."

✧ g. suguru ; suguru is mean. he's so mean to you today, he doesn't let you suck him off, he just tells you to kiss all over his cock with those pretty stained lips, tugging you away from his tip when you try to suck on it. no, no, you're not gonna taste him, not yet. he wants you to mark him up, condescendingly soothing you each time you whine when he tugs you by your locs away from his tip. with the way he keeps looking up at the mirror, he's got a plan for you.

"sugu, sugu, sugu, s-sugu!" "oh, you moan so pretty, princess...keep sucking me in that little pussy, take this fat cock, baby girl, doin' so good for me." he's got you in a full nelson in front of the mirror, making you watch as his cock fucks in and out of your messy little cunt. the best part? he could see the dark kiss marks all over his dick. "aww, you can see your kiss marks," he coos into your ear, his breath fanning against it as he pants. seeing your eyes start to roll back, suguru chuckles. poor thing, it felt so good you couldn't even listen to him when he said to keep your fucking eyes on him in the mirror. he slows his hips, smirking when you whine in protest. "shhh, don't whine, you don't wanna behave? don't wanna see my cock that you marked up all pretty get wet from your messy pussy? tch, my poor baby..." that's all it takes for you to squeeze your eyes shut, a choked-off sob leaving you as you start to make a mess. each time his cock pulls out of you, thick cream is pulled out of you too, the milky substance dripping down his length. suguru laughs meanly in your ear, cooing to you as he finally starts to pick up speed just from that. "awwww, babyyyy! did you cream? mm, but i didn't feel you cum," he teases with a coo of your name. "your covering up some of the kiss marks...pfft, don't cry like that, you look too fuckin' pretty. let's make you get creamier, okay?"

✧ h. kinji ; kinji buys you all kinds of lipstick and lip gloss because this man is obsessed with seeing your lips all shiny and pretty. his favorite on to buy you? the dior lip oil. god, he loves how it makes you look so delicious, he can barely keep himself from kissing you until you can't think, but the day you try on the mahogany lip oil with a soft pink lipstick under it? he's obsessed with how juicy it makes your soft lips look, and kinji cannot stay off of you.

after about 30 minutes and what felt like 100 reapplications of the lipstick and gloss combo, kinji is covered in kiss marks from his forehead down to his cock that is currently pistoning in and out of you. you're so fucking glad he made you hold your phone to record him fucking you like this because you could not stop looking at him. he looked so good, and that stupid fucking grin on his face told you he knew you liked it. "shit, cupcake, your so fucking tight right now," he choked out with a laugh. when you pout and try to hold the phone at a better angle to catch the way his cock slid in and out of you, his rhythm falters. he just knows whatever the fuck comes out of your mouth is about to break him. "i-i want to do this to you more, k-kinji. marking you up makes you look pretty an' it means y-you're mine." the phone is squished between you and kinji when he shifts positions, folding you into a mating press that just pushes him in deeper, the head of his dick nudging right against that spot that makes you fucking cry. "kinji—!"mmn, s' there? yeah, 's there, right fuckin' there," he mutters against your lips, picking his pace up again right where he left off. his fingers are laced on top of your head and fuck, he's reminded of the pretty purple faux locs you got to match his purple hair and he curses, angling his hips to get as deep as possible inside of your tight, slick walls. "i'm all fuckin' yours, cupcake, all yours, all fuckin' yours. fuck, gonna mark me up every time we fuck? huh? oooh shit, 'm-'m not lettin' you go until this fuckin' cunt is flooded with my cum, baby, you're gettin' bred t'night like a good fucking girl."

✧ t. aoi ; another victim of the the clear coat with the 5% tint edges. he's weak for it, so fucking weak. your lips are already one of his favorite parts of you, with how soft and plump they are, how sweet they taste whenever he places a peck on them. so when todo walks into the kitchen and sees you, his pretty girl in his shirt, and that simple but oddly sexy lip combo? he's already getting hard in his sweats, struggling to maintain eye contact with you as he greets you.

all you did was kiss his chest and giggle at the faint pink lip gloss mark left on it. your front is pressed against the cool counter of the marble island, your drool dripping onto the surface. he's so fucking big that your toes are barely touching the floor. todo's thick fingers are in your mouth, keeping your mouth open to let those pretty noises out that you kept trying to hide. he holds onto your hips, using the leverage to drive himself deeper into you, relishing in the tightness and wetness of your pussy. "you're such a pretty thing," he groans, his voice filled with a mix of lust and dominance. "taking my cock like a good little whore, bunny." he grunts with each tight squeeze of your cunt. you clenching around him so fucking much, so fucking needy for him. todo doesn't hold back, thrusting into you with a primal need as a rhythmic plap, plap, plap fills the kitchen. "a-aoi, baby, baby, please, m-move a little, s-so close to my spot," you beg around his fingers, squirming around to try and aim his cock right at that sweet spot. anything, anything for you. todo angles your hips just a little differently, and you practically scream, his cock now hitting your sensitive spot with each deep thrust. "oohmygod, baby, i-i can't, 's too deep," you cry, hips trying to tilt away when you realize that he's abusing that spongy spot inside your slick walls. "'s your fault, bunny. you wanna mark me up? hm?" he can sense your getting closer to cumming as he targets your sweet spot relentlessly. "fuck, i was so hard the second i saw those pretty lips of yours, and you fucking mark me." the pitiful whine he gets from you has his hips stuttering momentarily, eyes rolling with a groan. "you're such a fucking mess, bunny," he growls, his voice laced with possessiveness. "you're taking this dick like a good fucking girl. lemme fuck you just the way you need it."

wants it smeared on him ↴

✧ f. toji ; when he sees the glittery gloss coat on your lips, toji lets out a low whistle. he loves when you wear lipstick, but this shimmery look on you has his attention. you're talking to him, and he's trying to look you in the eye, but his eyes keep drifting to your lips. in the middle of your sentence, he gently takes your hand and places it right on the bulge in his white sweats, smirking when you falter for a moment as he just goes, 'mhm, keep going, mama, 'm listenin.'

if you could, you would laugh, knowing that toji's cock was all shiny and glittery from the combination of your spit and your pink-tinted shimmer gloss. but with the way he was busy fucking your mouth, his fist full of your braids. toji's grip keeps your head in place as he slides his cock in and out of your hot mouth, green eyes occasionally rolling back in his head. you've gotten so much better at this, at letting his fat dick stretch your throat. and the view, god, the view. you are so pretty like this, your mascara smudging down those cute cheeks of yours while thick strands of saliva and precum messily dripped from your chin to your chest. "that's it, baby, you're taking it like a champ," he praises breathlessly, savoring every time he feels you swallow around him. his praise made your eyes flutter, a muffled moan vibrating so deliciously around his dick. "ohh, shit," toji hisses, thrusting his hips a little deeper and making you choke, the feeling of your throat restricting around him, making him groan your name. fuck, seeing him hunch over like this made you drag your nails down his thighs, desperate to taste his cum. he just looked so fucking good when he felt good. with a huff, toji looks down at you, eyes narrowed. he's getting so close, and he can't wait to pull you off him and kiss you before helping you apply another coat of lip gloss so he can kiss you dumb while he fucks his fingers into you. and that look in your eye...tells him you want it too. "y-yeah? y'like it when i use your, shit, your pretty mouth? god, looking so beautiful, ma, love how you look in this lip gloss." yeah, he loves it when you smear it all over him so he can grin in the mirror after, seeing how glittery he is.

✧ r. sukuna ; he's so mean. sukuna acts like it's not his fault that you both will be late, all because he thinks your new lip gloss combo will catch the attention of men and make them stare at your lips. it might cause a little flicker of the eye to your mouth, but no one could get to the same level of sukuna. no, it was impossible to compare to how he'd glare at your lips before growling and smearing your lip liner all over his mouth.

he wishes he could take a picture of this and frame it on the fucking wall. the visual of you between his legs as he sits on the bed, his cock pulled out of his dress pants. the slow drag of your lips up and down his cock, seeing the pretty smear of your pinkish-brown lip gloss...fuck, he wants you like this all the time. "thaaaat's right," he praises you, brushing back your soft curls from your face. "let me see how much you like having my cock in your mouth. such a slut, fuckin' slobbering all over it." sukuna throbs in your mouth, his tip hot as it presses against the back of your throat. if you weren't used to it, you would've choked from how much precum he's dripping into your mouth, forcing you to constantly swallow to keep your mouth from getting too full. however, sukuna is caught off guard when you pull yourself off him, glaring into his eyes. "sukuna, we are 20 minutes late," you scold him, sneering a little as you grip his spit-coated cock and stroke him furiously, taking out your annoyance on him. the deep groan he rewards you isn't enough, no, you wanted a nice date, and instead sukuna was thinking with the wrong fucking head. again. "you ruined my makeup, ruined my lipstick, and i already fuckin' know my mascara is fucked." it is, and he loves it, the dark streaks of it dripping down your cheeks that are framed by your soft curls. "did all that just to get my lipstick on your dick? hm? you're so fucking nasty," you huff with a roll of your eyes before taking him back into your mouth, a choked moan, his legs jumping in surprise. " shut up, 'kuna. do you wanna ruin my lipstick and make us miss our reservation? fine, but you're gonna cum until you can't anymore."

✧ k. shiu ; shiu is tired of his new client, ready to get out of his clothes, into the shower, and then in bed with you wrapped in his arms. so imagine his pleasant surprise when he comes out of the shower to his pretty wife sitting all pretty on the bed in lacy lingerie and soft makeup. and all shiu can think about is you smearing that pretty pink coat of gloss all over the length of his cock.

"atta girl," he grunts, his fingers thrusting in and out of your mouth slooowly. you're between his legs, manicured hand stroking up and down his length that's covered in pink kiss marks, the tip a pretty saturated pink from all of your suckling. "such a desperate little thing for me, aren't you? got all dolled up for daddy t' come home, and you look so gorgeous," he softly coos, one of your braids twirled around his free hand. you were so cute, you didn't even know. the baby blue lingerie you had on contrasted against your skin so perfectly, and seeing you look up at him with such a cock drunk expression was the best thing shiu could've come home to. "you're doing so good, angel, sucking my fingers like it's my dick. d'you want it?" when you nod, tongue sliding over his fingers slowly, shiu chuckles, the deepness of his voice going right to your core. he sounds so good when he talks, when he laughs, it's unfair. slipping his fingers out of your mouth, he cups your chin. "you gonna suck me off? i want your pretty lipstick smeared on me, okay? there you go," shiu hums with a little groan. you had the prettiest little mouth, and even if you could only fit half of him inside of it, that's okay. you still look so cute as you try to take more of him in. "take every inch like you need it, baby."

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #sukuna smut #toji smut #choso smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #nanami smut #higuruma smut #shiu kong smut #suguru smut #todo aoi smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #takaba fumihiko smut

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sophiethewitch1 · 8 months

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What We Want Masterlist

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe.

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader)

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

GENERAL TRIGGER WARNINGS/THINGS YOU CAN EXPECT

18+ MDNI, SLOW BURN yandere, romantic yandere with the 4 robin boys, rest of the batfam aren't yandere but still care about you, reader is a girlfailure, ex-step siblings (the dead mother trope), reverse harem, healthy dosing of enemies to lovers, my stupid romance novel tropes, fem!reader and afab!reader, all romantic leads 18+, the graphic violence, death and other such triggers of the original series, attempted sexual assault (chpt. 3), themes of depression/suicide, family death, themes of poverty, alcohol, mentions of alcoholism, my own mix of canon because honestly the canon right now is embarrassing, atypical/soft yandere behaviour, fluff and angst, suggestive and eventual smut, an eventual shared darling/polyandry, SLOW/INCONSISTENT UPDATES (aiming for once a month)

0. - The Second Worst Birthday Ever 1. - Not Quite An Isekai 2. - First (Second) Introductions 3. - Dreams And... 4. - Nightmares Too 5. - Meet The Adams Family 6. - Round Two. Fight! 7. - Black N' White Knight

Word Count as of the Chapter 6: 37k

Series tag (anon asks, snippets, updates and actual chapters all included): #series:WWW

More important asks/FAQ

Question about the boys being romantic or platonic Another question about the boys being hesitant or not Question about Damian being platonic or yandere Questions about Bruce being platonic or yandere Important note about the ex-stepsis thing Future sneak peek ft. Dames being stupid Question about happy/sad ending Future sneak peek ft. Dick being stupid

Fanart! Please give everyone here lots of love, their work is amazing!

Tim's Introduction Jason's Introduction Reader Under The Table SceneTM Reader Before And After The Worst Birthday Ever

#sophie tries to be organised #masterlist #navigation #series:WWW #i still hate tumblr formatting #people who change their themes constantly how do you do it

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sunsguilt · 11 months

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SMASH OR PASS WITHOUT THE SMASH !┊ft: all nrc characters!

warnings: none! contains: gn reader

notes: this is essentially a dateability ranking in terms of pure survival and living your best life. i love all the characters dearly, and this is just for fun!

HEARTSLABYUL

riddle rosehearts: don’t get me started on him. hypothetically, let’s say he has a single romantical bone in his body. he would probably (definitely) want to date someone his mother would approve of, so someone who’s super studious and thinking about becoming a lawyer type of thing. even then, his mother would be the overbearing MIL stereotype, and riddle would just bend to her every whim, so it wouldn’t work. would probably divorce you if his mom said to.

overall rating: 2/10, could be a nice cushy life if he took his penchant for memorizing rules into a lawyer profession and became a rich husband, but still the MIL…. you would end up on r/relationshipadvice within weeks, i’m afraid.

ace trappola: he’s like a frat boy to me, honestly. I think you could be friends with him within reason, but if you actually date him… he’s the kind of guy who would pursue you and then get bored once u start dating. whoops, he had a consensual workplace relationship. he canonically ghosted his ex, guys.

overall rating: 3/10, you would be dating a frat boy. you don’t want that for yourself, trust me, speaking from second-hand experience here.

deuce spade: deuce is actually normal. like he’s no rich boy, but his family is respectful and his mother would adore you if he brought you home. he’s a little slow, but he’s got the spirit, y’know?

overall rating: 6/10, very nice in-laws, very cool husband. you may end up being the primary breadwinner.

cater diamond: with cater, it’s probably a bromance that turns into a real romance. mostly because he didn’t want to confess and ruin the whole thing you had going on together. likely a guy who needs a lot of validation from his partner. like he’ll say he hates pickles if you don’t like pickles. will not let a pickle pass his lips. will try his very hardest to convince you to do silly couple challenges.

overall rating: 8/10, he’s sooooo cute but he’s got unresolved mental instability like you wouldn’t believe. personally, i love that in a man. call me fix-it felix.

trey clover: trey is. trey. average guy whose family runs a bakery. he’s cute though!

overall rating: 5/10, he’s probably a freak in terms of intimate relations! teehee! no further comment.

SAVANACLAW

leona kingscholar: leona is a nice guy, respectful etc. but after a while, he’s not putting the same energy into the relationship as you are. the added layer of dating a literal prince…. no matter how disregarded he is by his family, he is second in line for the throne. the pressure from that sounds crazy, i won’t lie. you might be able to ignore the pressure of him bringing you home to straight up royalty ! overall rating: 5/10, he’s so dreamy and gorjus but he wears uncle sandals. jack howl: oh he’s so bf material, like you don’t understand. him being really firm on the fact that beastmen choose a life partner? wanting to fall in love and be committed to someone until his dying day? this is Romance. he's probs a good guy to bring to the gym for support if you’re just starting to work out regularly! might accidentally push you past your limits bc he’s thinking beastmen standards and not human. overall rating: 7/10, he’s so cute and i love him, but he’s a gym bro and does daily early morning jogs and such. cannot accept it. ruggie bucchi: he’s actually another really normal guy to date! he’s shown to do anything to provide for his loved ones (bringing food home from school to provide for his friends and family). very much an acts of service guy!

overall rating: 4/10, the chances are high that he’ll do that thing that broke dudes do when they get all touchy and hug their partner when the partner pulls out their card to pay for something.

OCTAVINELLE

azul ashengrotto: he would be nice to you ONLY if he had something to gain. would actually play the long game in order to sweet-talk you into signing some contract that totally screws you over forever. he is a capitalist at heart, i fear. he’s gonna get you in some get-rich-quick scheme. also, he can’t kiss and it would be weird and a lot more drool than necessary. overall rating: 6/10, i love octopus.

jade leech: oh god. he’s like visually appealing but the longer he's talking, the worse it gets. his hobby would literally be getting your heart rate up. you’d be lucky if you don’t get high blood pressure from his desire to see your face twist in an ugly expression. he has a penchant for learning, so he’ll want to research the topic of his interest to the fullest to get the desired results. overall rating: 3/10, the moment he’s tired of you, he’ll never speak to you again outside of a professional setting. floyd leech: he wants to have fun every day he can. which is fine, nothing wrong with that. the problem lies when he wants to rope you into it. and his idea of fun is….. questionable. he would call you up in the middle of the night and ask if you wanna go for a joyride that takes you over state lines. and you would only get like three minutes notice. he would also invite himself into your dorm and sleep in your bed. no, he’s not making the bed either, the guy canonically has to be forced into ironing his own shirt. overall rating: 3/10, he looks like he bites unironically. would you get rabies if a humanized eel bit you?

SCARABIA

kalim al-asim: oh he’s so sweet, but the only problem is literally the fact that he’s rich. he frequently talks about multiple attempts on his life in his youth up until the present day. if people outside of your circle found out you were with him, word would surely spread to unwanted ears, and your life would be at risk because of that immediate association. overall rating: 6/10, a total sweetheart, but i don’t think i’d be able to eat breakfast with him without wondering if something’s in our food. jamil viper: he has too many underlying issues that include but are not limited to: an inferiority complex that exists due to his forced proximity to kalim. as much as i’d love to say i could fix him, jamil almost killed kalim. Plus, jamil is literally kalim’s servant. association with kalim = will probably die. overall rating: 5/10, he’s got issues, but he’s so cute and probably just needs that reassurance or whatever. my silly guy!

POMEFIORE

vil schoenheit: vil is like my fav so i’d love to say that because he’s so nice and rich and pretty that he would be a perfect ten. WRONG. he’s famous. bad! what if he has crazy stans who go after you bc you’re dating him? for your own safety, you would never be able to go public with your relationship, that is if the tabloids don't get to you. overall rating: 7/10, you’ll have to listen to him go on tangents about neige.

rook hunt: if you’re thinking “yeah no he’s probably a safe bet, he’s rich and i could be his trophy wife/husband”, you like french people and you’re lying to yourself !!!!! ive never met a normal rich person in my life, and rook is no exception. he would know your shoe size before you even know his last name.

overall rating: 0/10, he’s weird AND french.

epel felmier: he lives in a small town where everyone tends to know each other and their business. there’s no hiding your relationship from them. downside is, he would have a crazy inferior complex if you were taller than him. He needs to be a Man’s man, yknow??? overall rating: 6/10, he’s a good cook, an incredible one, even. if you can’t cook and you can deal with a man who desperately wants to show you how cool he is, then this is the one for you.

IGNIHYDE

idia shroud: he wouldn’t date, like he’s a NEET guys, i don’t see it at all. He would marry someone if it was for tax reasons, or just to tell people he isn’t bitchless. you'd just go to a courthouse real quick and pop by an ihop after.

overall rating: 6/10, he would be an incredible overwatch carry. would bully you for sucking super hard in any type of pvp game.

ortho shroud: he’s like a child, so he is not included!

overall rating: 0/10, in terms of dateability, he’s silly tho

DIASOMNIA

malleus draconia: you would be perfectly safe with him. yeah, he’s not fully clear on the norms of human society, but he treats you well! problem is, he'd be a little too obssessed and its going to very quickly turn into "he's going to keep u in this tower bc hes scared abt u dying"

overall rating: 7/10, wouldn’t you love a loser man who is obsessed with gargoyles?! silver: objectively, the world’s most perfect man. he’s super cute and can cook! everything you would want in a man. he's also got his wacky little sitcom type family like step brothers who are Not human and a dad who is Not human but like they care for him he cares for them!

overall rating: 9/10, no real drama and they'd probably be elated if he brought someone home. sebek zigvolt: he would choose malleus over you every time, i’m so sorry. like “sorry babe malleus needs help shining his sword or whatever, you can start the movie without me.” realistically the only time sebek could be in a relationship is if he finds someone whos as obsessed with malleus as he is so they can be hyperfixated on him together or something. like how kpop stans marry each other, but with malleus the dragon prince.

overall rating: 2/10, he would use you has a human dishrag to clean shoes for malleus. lilia vanrouge: everyone loves a fictional old man, but this particular old man comes with trauma and emotional baggage spanning centuries. You can only fix-it felix your way out of so many things. he’s cute, though.

overall rating: 4/10, canonically picks his nose, i fear.

— ☆

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redmyeyes · 9 months

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Fellow Travelers sex scenes

I can't stop thinking about what Matt and Jonny keep repeating over and over again in interviews, regarding the FT sex scenes. That, in the writing and filming it was important that:

No two scenes were the same.

Every sex scene informed the story.

The characters were not the same before the scene as they were after. That they were changed by it.

So, let's talk about them.

"Pretend"

establishment of hawk's usual modus operandi -- brief fucks with strangers. he keeps a tight rein on his desires and won't allow himself to want more.

2. "Fold them."

establishing dynamics, hawk is in control, tim is being (happily) led. par for the course for hawk (or is it?)

3. "I'm your boy, right?"

tim can play, too. this dynamic is not one-way. the 'power' in this relationship definitely does not lie solely with hawk. you might even say this flips the power dynamic on its head. hawk is GONE.

4. "Do you like it this way? Your life, like this?"

not a sex scene, but one of the first slow, tender aftermaths. clear now that, for both of them, this goes much much deeper than just sex.

5. "I belong to Hawkins Fuller."

tim showing that he's willing to meet hawk on his level. the submission and dominance are so intertwined here they can't be separated. it's the willingness of that submission, the willingness of that Belonging, that changes everything.

and tim begging (through provocation) hawk to acknowledge him / what they have, out loud. "who do you belong to" = "i love you, i need you, tell me you need me too."

6. "It's your turn tonight."

a fucked-up goodbye, on hawk's part. he really thinks this might be the last time he's allowed to see tim, and he says 'i love you' the only way he knows how -- with his body, with service.

7. "Your Honor, I stand before you accused of being sweet."

crucially, not a sex scene. even more crucially, there is no sex at all in episode 5, where they separate for the first (and, they think, last) time. instead, we're shown what they're really giving up -- this too sweet (painfully sweet) domesticity.

8. "We don't have to do what we used to do."

the horribly empty aftermath. where they give in to "sex", of a sort, but it's dry and horrifically painful and NOT AT ALL what either of them want. because what they want is intimacy, not sex. and they're not allowed this.

9. "Stay with me."

the botched threesome, where craig is an afterthought, an excuse for hawk and tim to be together, and even then, horrifically painful in the way they LONG for each other and for what they can't have.

10. "I want you to fuck me."

a true surrender. again, hawk showing what he wants the only way he knows how -- through his body -- giving tim his willing submission, body, heart and soul.

11. "We'll be colleagues. We'll see each other every day."

not technically a sex scene, but the truest expression of them 'making love' that we ever get on screen. returning to #1, it's the polar opposite of what hawk had previously allowed himself, and it's what he really wants -- all the intimacy he'll shortly be sacrificing.

12. "That better?" "Oh yeah."

finally, finally, after all those years, a return to the true intimacy they were craving.

#can i just add how much i ADORE that they left 1957 for the end?#it's the clearest view we have of their missed potential -- of everything they COULD have had 😭#fellow travelers #fellowtravelersedit #ft meta #*

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prael · 8 months

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c'est la vie - Kim Minju

Part 3 of folie à deux.

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male reader smut. (ft. a sprinkle of Wonyoung)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 10,553

c'est la vie - that's life

"I'm so fucked."

Fists clenched and eyes scrunched, you’re venting out loud to no one in particular. You repeat it, "I'm so fucked." Louder this time—to the sky. Well, more accurately, to the plastered ceiling of this little hole-in-the-wall. Either way, the solution isn't there.

It isn't at the bottom of a bottle either, but you're determined to find that out the hard way.

"Is there a friend I can call for you?" The woman behind the bar has stopped polishing off the glasses; interrupted by what she would say are the ramblings of a madman.

"There's no coming back from this." You throw your head forward, catching it in your now open hands, elbows resting on the wooden bar top.

"Sir? I'm going to call you a—"

"I don't need a cab." You draw your head from your hands and open your eyes—allowing the light to pour onto you from one of those little round lights above you. The drink sits in front of you, unfinished. Hard liquor in a tumbler just waiting to be thrown back like the three before it—a plea you can’t ignore. The large ice cube rests against your nose as you pour every last drop onto your tongue and swallow. "I do need another drink."

With the glass set back down, your body slouches and sinks. Eyes stare down at the empty glass and your face is cold to the world, cold to the woman across from you. You must reek of self-pity, the smell thick in the air.

Let’s be honest, you've had far better days.

She's got her delicate fingers around the neck of the bottle, pouring you a fresh drink and placing it on a napkin, "you know, you're not the first person to stumble into this bar wearing a face like that."

You slide your eyes over to the glass and reach for it. "I highly doubt it."

"But, few of them show up this early, even if it is a Friday." She has a point: you’re propping up the bar alone and drowning your sorrows solo. In fact, there are only two other people in this whole place, sitting together at a table. "So what’s your story?"

"Does there have to be one?" You grip the glass in your hand, giving the stranger the best smile you can fake.

She steps back and brushes her hand on her trousers as she laughs, "I've seen many broken men and women sit at this bar and spend too many hours drinking their life savings, with hearts broken, dreams smashed and most of all, mistakes they regretted. But you seem different."

"Oh really, why's that?" Your eyes stare into your drink. It stares right back at you.

"You're still young."

"Does being broken have an age requirement?"

She shifts and reaches for something, something you can't quite make out, being locked in the most intimate of stares with your drink. It’s the sound of her placing down another fresh glass that gives it away. "Actually, yes. Because you've still got time to work with."

"That's the irony. All I have left is time."

“Then you have to believe in yourself to make the most of that time.” Her words are heavy, like their meaning holds weight within her too.

She lets you dwell on it for a moment while she pours her own drink. She settles herself against the bar top, across from you, resting her head in one open hand. Her gaze burns into you like sitting in the sun. You can feel something else too, a soft vibration in your pocket.

You finally break away from your staring contest with your drink—one you lost anyway—to fish your phone out of your pocket. The screen alights with Gaeul’s name and is followed by the words ‘1 new message’.

After a swipe, it reads, ‘wtf where are you? what happened?’ but the thought of sending a reply never crosses your mind. And, just in case, you switch it over to silent.

“Is that her?” The woman gently waves a slender finger towards your phone as you put it back where you found it. “The reason you’re here?”

"Do you press all your customers like this?"

“Only the interesting ones,” she returns her hand to her glass, taking a sip of it before continuing, “and there’s sadly so few of those.”

"And if I'm not as interesting as you think?"

"Then I'll buy you a drink.” She tilts her glass at you. "For the trouble."

"And if I'm fascinating?"

"I'll still buy you a drink." Another sip from her glass as her lip gloss stains the rim, "maybe two."

"Then no, it wasn't her." And here's the thing, you don't know who to blame. Yourself? Probably. Wonyoung? Maybe. The mystery cameraman who got it all on video? Almost definitely.

“But it is another woman, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly rushed off my feet here.”

You sigh, unsure exactly where to begin with this whole mess. The complete story is a long one. You could tell her about your family—the trouble at home and why you had to leave—but that’s not for anyone to know.

"I transferred here. Moved here with my brother. He's at work right now, and he will be late into the evening." You pause to take another drink. Another burning sensation. "To keep food on our table and keep me in college."

Even saying so little it weighs on you, the feelings of regret and the feeling that you're saying too much. You bite your tongue and hesitate.

"So why are you here and… you know... not at college?" She pushes you for more. She flicks a finger towards you with her free hand and then brings her glass to her lips.

You drag your eyes up for the first time and finally inspect the woman across from you.

She's your age, roughly—if you had to guess. She's pretty, and that part you're more confident about. She wears her long brunette hair over one shoulder, running in a loose wave, over her slate black blazer, which sits over a small black tee, cropped at the waist. She smiles when your eyes meet hers. And maybe she had no idea, and perhaps it's all subconscious, but the tips of her slender fingers squeeze slightly against the glass now that you're paying her some attention.

"I never got your name," you say with curiosity laden in your voice.

"Minju."

"And why is a young woman like you working here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Were you not the one telling me about your troubles?" She follows her words with a soft laugh.

"Call it quid pro quo. You answer and then I’ll tell you all about it," you say.

"Fine." She stands back upright, adjusting her blouse with a few gentle touches. The way her finger glides across the collar and tugs at it slightly. It's more than a little distracting. She cuts a sleek hourglass shape out of the shelves of bottled booze behind her. "I'm between gigs right now."

"Gigs?"

"Ah." She waves a finger. "My turn."

Minju tilts her head and then rests her palm against the bar—leaning toward you and eyes focused. It’s like an inspection and you instinctively sit up straighter.

"So why are you here?" she asks.

"Expelled. About..." You bring up your wristwatch into view. "About an hour ago."

Her brows go up a fraction and her eyes narrow on you again, almost as if to accuse you of lying to her. But her expression softens almost instantly. You would never notice if not for watching every second in painstaking detail. Her widening eyes reveal to you the thoughts passing through her mind as she racks her brain for a reason you would be expelled.

"You said that you're between gigs, so what is it you do?" you say, shifting the focus back away from yourself.

"I sing. I dance. I model. I act." She pauses with a bitter look. "However, right now, I serve drinks." You get it; she looks the part. That much is clear. She's far too gorgeous to be spending her time polishing glasses and serving screwdrivers to burnouts at happy hour. She looks every bit like a woman who should be so much more, but this isn't Hollywood, and the storybook tale of the waitress who makes it is so cliché.

You swill the last of your drink around in the glass, watching the little tidal pattern inside. The way the ice cube moves with the current, it hypnotises, entrances. You speak, looking down into the amber-hued ocean within your glass.

"And you have the talent to back up the looks?"

"So they tell me." There's no joy in the words or the tone. No pride or smug sense of achievement. If anything, it's dismissive. “It’s just a slow period. That’s life.”

“C’est la vie.” You catch her gaze as you utter the phrase under your breath.

Minju continues despite you, “but things will turn around soon enough. I'm going places."

"Every actor who is going places never seems to get there." Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because, right now, you hate this city and everyone in it, but everything that comes out of your mouth is uncharacteristically curt.

And look, you regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth but that doesn't change the way you just dismissed her. It wasn't meant personally, but it's hard to stop your thoughts from curdling into words right now.

Minju is quiet, and the air becomes heavy. You swallow deep and finally look her in the eyes again. There's something there, some little flicker of emotion untold that gives her away for a moment. She is a woman told repeatedly that she has the world at her feet, but the hard truth of it is that she's here, working away behind the bar because, in fact, life is a lot more cruel.

Absorbed by her vulnerability, you feel the need to backtrack, "that's not—"

"So what, you look at me and see nothing but a girl who couldn't cut it?" There's a flash of fire in her eyes. A burn. A spark that sets the sky alight. A very attractive spark.

The way she fires it back. The passion in her words. The tension building between you as your eyes linger on each other.

You can't explain the attraction, but you can certainly feel it.

"No," you fire back without hesitation, leaning towards her, "what I see is a woman working two jobs just to afford a place to live." Your confidence rises with the alcohol pumping its way through your system and you do your damnedest to rescue the situation. "What I see is a girl with stars in her eyes and a dream that somehow she still keeps alive where so many more have given up. I'm not judging."

Silence.

Sudden, silent, and slightly sinister.

"Yeah, you were," Minju's eyebrows arch in amusement, "but that's fine, I'll take my turn now."

As she leans forward, there are words on her tongue. She looks ready to bite back, but she's looking over you, across the room, watching the only other two people in the bar leave. And for a minute, everything is held in suspense, you are locked together in silence, the clap of their shoes echoing through it. Then the sound of the door, and the brief exposure to the outside world, it's the rain pouring and the cars passing by and then it's the slam shut. It's just you and her, Minju, alone under the dim of the lights.

"So what was it?" she finally breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"What got you expelled?"

You could lie. There's an opportunity for that. But what's the point? Even though she's a stranger, it doesn't feel like there's a risk if you just come clean and spill your dirty little secret, besides, you owe her one now.

"I got caught fucking in the library." The truth comes out plain and simple. It’s a brazen statement to make in the middle of the afternoon to a stranger. Her gaze shoots down at you. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that.

"I’m sorry, you were caught fucking in the library?" She repeats it out quizzically as if she’s taking time to process. Minju has this way of talking—a lilt in her voice. She has a tone and a pitch that rises and falls with each word. She's amused, that much is clear, by the slight smirk that has curled a corner of her mouth to accompany her sound.

"We were alone, or at least we thought we were, and it’s not like we hadn’t done it before, but apparently, there's evidence." You gesture your empty glass at her, a secondary conversation, unspoken but clear that you need another drink before you tell her anything else.

In doing so you see how she tenses her lips together, holding in her laughter at the thought. She’s holding and you’re watching until she finally cracks, her grin wide and laughter loud.

"Now I am the one judging you. You made fun of me for trying while you're too busy swinging your cock around to even try. So, you tell me, who is the stupid one here?"

"Alright I deserved that one." Your hand had been holding the empty glass to her but now you bring it to rest against the bar top. "In my defence, it's not like I had much of a choice. That girl..."

"Here we go. Let's see how you justify this one." She finally takes your empty glass and when the edge of her fingers brushes across the back of your hand, they linger for far too long. And when she draws back, dragging away those long, delicate fingers from your own, you find yourself suddenly cold.

"It's not like I could turn her down if I wanted to. Also I would never have done it in the library if she didn't make me."

"She 'made' you. Go on." There's scepticism in the words. Her mocking tone teasing you as you watch her turn to the shelves behind her, eyes scanning the possibilities.

"No one says no to her. Never."

"Wow, sounds like quite a woman," she says, ever more playful, as she reaches for the top shelf. Her blazer is pulled up now, ever so slightly exposing her back above the waist of her trousers. Trousers hugging the subtle swell of her hips. Her small, tight, round ass is defined through the fitted fabric. You can't look away.

"Everything comes easily for her. There are literally men fighting for her affections. They would die for her," the words tumble from your mouth, as your gaze lingers.

You must have been lost in the daze and absent-mindedly following the contours of her thighs because by the time you shift focus to her face, she's peering at you from over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as daggers, as if to say it’s a little too obvious.

"Wow she sounds like a real piece of work. I know someone like that too. " Minju turns with bottle in hand, hair swirling around her as she does so. She's graceful. Unbothered and unhurried by anything. "This one is perfect. This bottle is older than me."

She pours two fresh drinks with more ice in each.

"Am I going to regret this in the morning?" you question as the weight of the glass finds your hand.

"You might. But at this moment? No."

You trust her, somehow, inexplicably; you do.

She asks, “so, what will you do now?” it’s a question as funny as it is difficult to answer.

The truth is that you haven’t got the slightest clue. You tell her as much and try to explain it as best you can, and her eyes soften as you share the details. It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth—quid pro quo—but she’s pressing you with question after question: how long have you known her? Is she pretty? Where does she see you in all of this?

“You and her. Still a thing?”

Minju is on your side of the bar now, sitting by your side with little caution about personal space; there’s not an inch of space between you. Her thigh presses against you and her upper arm is flush with your own.

"Me and Wonyoung were never a thing, not really."

Minju stops dead and chokes, holding her throat, and forcing the drink down. Her whole body shifts. She nearly falls off the bar stool and, after steadying herself, she stares blankly forwards.

"Wonyoung? Jang Wonyoung?"

"Yeah, her." The new drink meets your lips and its taste is a hell of a lot richer than the cheap stuff you were pouring down. It’s laden with a smoky taste over sweet tones.

There's a silence even after you finish taking a drink. Something untold hangs in the air. You know it. She knows it. She's here on the verge of telling you something, but what? And you sit here and wait, despite the racing of your heartbeat.

"I should have known." Minju shakes her head, laughing, but without a smile.

"Should've known what?"

"You're Wonyoung's new toy. I should have guessed as soon as I saw you, she has this effect on people."

You stiffen at that. It's always the truth that hurts the most and the fact is you really were just a toy. A convenient dildo.

"You know what you need right now?" She twists on the stool, and suddenly, you've got Minju looking straight at you. Eyes locking with you. Right there. Looking up at you. So close. Right there, leaning back ever so slightly so her chest arches towards you, accentuating her small breasts, straining against her shirt.

"Drinking helps," you reply, raising your glass.

"Yes, but so does fucking."

That’s a line. It’s one that shouldn’t come as a surprise because a girl like this probably has a lot of experience in being wanted, so who is to say she can’t turn the table for once? But in one breath you’re giddy, taken out of yourself and feeling drunker by the moment. Not on the booze, but her. She is intoxicating.

It takes you a few seconds to notice but her free hand slips on your leg, rubbing and caressing as it snakes further and further up.

"What?" You ask as if it needs confirmation and in those long few moments, you think you must have imagined it. And the same way a nervous laughter rises, the laughter spilling out of your throat, she is quick to quench the growing dread inside of you by sliding her palm across your bulge.

"Wait here." Something has switched inside her. You don’t know what, but either way, it's got her standing up and strutting towards the door. With each step, she opens her body language. A growing swagger, letting you see the sway of her hips. Left and right. Just enough to catch the eye. And oh boy, does your eye get caught. You couldn't pull your gaze away now if you wanted to.

She's swiping hands at the door now and flicking the locks. Then she's pulling the blinds shut. A giggle comes from Minju as she spins back to face you. She runs her bottom lip through her teeth and stares right into you.

You feel exposed but, strangely, comfortable. It's so very odd; with no clue as to what happens next. It has your heart pounding out of your chest.

"I thought you were alone tonight because you were upset, but no, I understand it now. You're frustrated. Angry. Stressed. She used you and got away with it."

She kicks off her heels, loses a few centimetres in height, and is walking barefoot across the floor - toward you. Her shoulder rolls to one side and then to the other as her body rises and falls, sashays with the pace of her hips. She can see that you're stuck. You’re rooted to the seat with a dumb look on your face, and yet she saunters ever closer.

“I am a little confused,” you finally say. She's so close that all your senses are lost to the approach of Minju's swaying frame. Her curves, her body, her gentle steps, the way her perfume smells—it's consuming you.

She ignores you and continues, "I’m frustrated too. I'm so frustrated that I'm wasting time in this damn bar. I'm angry at all the auditions that ended up with producers rejecting me. I know exactly what you're feeling. You're angry at the world and everyone in it." Her tone grows raspier. More raw and less stable. "You feel alone. Hung out to dry and in need of attention."

"And you feel the same?"

"Yes, and I'm hungry. Starved of any real satisfaction. You told me I’m going nowhere and I guess it means I need a little attention, too."

You watch her eyes flittering as she looks you up and down. The sultry grin she wears shows she likes what she sees.

"So what are you going to do about it, Minju? What is the solution?" You drop a look down to the soft and slender flesh of her neck.

"No strings. We get this all out of our system." Minju leans in. Lips so close to yours. She stays there. It's torture. "You let all that shit out. Take out your pent-up stress, frustration, anger."

"On you?"

"Exactly. You'll feel better. I will too. Because right now…" Her nose presses against the side of your own. Soft skin. Gentle pressure. "I need it rough."

Her hand lands on your thigh again, rubbing down the denim of your jeans.

The offer is enticing. It has your head swimming with dirty images of everything the two of you could do together, and your cock? Well, that's already twitching in your underwear.

"This isn’t going to help, it will just make things worse."

"Can they really get any worse?"

Minju brings your hand, hers and yours, to her waist. Your thumb feels the soft material of her shirt, and your fingers touch that small patch of skin below it.

"Are we prepared to find out?" Your lips graze gently against hers. The thrill. The electricity in the air.

"I’m ready. More than ready. Just this once, do what you want to do and make me the star of your fantasy. Use me. Make me everything you need." She plants her lips firmly on yours. You both go quiet, muffled by a kiss.

Nothing to do but feel.

Minju's grip tightens on your leg, and yours on her waist. The other hand slides up to her chest, finding her breast, cupping it and feeling her. She opens her mouth. And you follow. Your tongues are colliding and sweeping across one another, eager and desperate.

So you push, guiding the two of you to stand. Minju staggers back, and you're with her every step of the way. Stumbling through a kiss. Hands everywhere. Uncertain. Lost, confused, and passionate. It's an incoherent tumble that takes you both crashing through chairs, pushing them aside until you hit something sturdy. Minju's ass slams against the pool table and she grunts into your mouth.

Her lips drag away and she smiles. "Fuck me."

You grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the pool table.

"I need to see the big cock that’s got Wony all worked up. She wouldn’t settle for anything disappointing." She's fumbling at your waist, struggling with the buckle of your jeans.

"This what you want?" Your words vibrate through her. And when you take a handful of her hair and tug, there's a long, soft, desperate sigh from Minju's parted lips.

"Use me. Abuse me." Her fumbling finally succeeds and the waist of your trousers slackens. "I know how I look, but don't worry, you're not going to break me."

She's pushing at your trousers, your boxers, and when that stiff dick pops out, her smile spreads into a big, stupid grin. It's not an unattractive expression—not really. It just tells the truth. She is excited.

It’s as clear as day that you are too. You’re rock hard, stiff as hell, ready to fuck, and this, this will give you the chance to let it all out. All of it.

"Perfect." Minju grabs your cock in both hands, still warm, throbbing, and strong. "Just look at this thing."

You pull on her hair again, harder, until she breaks away from you, until she gives way—losing the grip on your cock and falling back on the table. And now you slow as if to savour the moment as you’re sliding your fingers under the waist of her trousers. Not often you get afforded a measure of control.

"C’mon, please, don't be gentle," Minju moans out through gritted teeth. The desperation is painted on her face and that’s the difference here: while a girl like Wonyoung wouldn’t let you go slow, Minju is the type of girl who makes you not want to go slow.

So you pull at the trousers of the girl sprawling out in front of you, tearing the button from the fabric, yanking them open and pulling them down those long, slender legs. The flesh is soft. And to touch, so smooth and light. Minju's breathing picks up—becoming shorter and deeper with each touch to her sensitive skin.

"I might leave marks."

Minju stares you down, hands already massaging over her panties. "I hope you will."

The thought is intoxicating, so much more so than the alcohol in your blood, as your hands paw over her legs; you knead soft skin with a kind of aggression you haven't felt before.

Minju is a rare girl.

Beautiful. And by definition, beautiful women have seen it all before.

But her?

The look she gives? Like no man has ever fully satisfied the itch within her. It's deep-set hunger. The kind that she chases endlessly for.

This hunger makes people behave stupidly, careless and forgetful of the consequences. And maybe you know that all too well but even still it's a risk worth taking. Every choice has led you here and maybe that is your solace, that it's not all downhill from here.

And as your hands reach her small satin panties, the warmth embraces you, and the urge within you grows. You hook your fingers inside and draw the panties aside to expose the tight pink flesh of Minju's cunt.

Not that you would expect anything else, but she is clean-shaven. So smooth. Not a single blemish. This is a girl who kept herself neat and pristine, and yet from her mouth spills utter filth, "just look at how wet this pussy is for you."

She's running her fingers between her lips, showing you everything she has to offer between her legs, showing you where she expects you dick will get put to use.

"This tight fucking cunt can take everything your thick cock has to give."

"Minju, you’re so..." You're standing over her, her legs spread wide beside you, blazer falling from her shoulders leaving nothing covering her but that low-cut top.

Minju stares right at you, eyes fixed, wide and eager, her chest heaves with every deepening breath she takes in. She's wild, reaching for you with one hand, stretching to hold you and then pulling at your shirt to draw you in.

"I'm so needy. Please fuck me." She's whining through closed lips as her other hand slips away from her pussy and glides over her taut abs and leaving her cunt ready to be used. She wants it, desperately, and you're drawing it out. Making it build inside her, and you hold your cock in your hand.

You're stroking, and she's watching. And for all her strain to pull at your shirt, to pull you into her, you hold back. You hold just long enough. Enough for her arm to fall limp. Enough for her to almost give in. "Please..." she trails off with a whimper.

You push the head of your stiff cock against her cunt—against her clit. Your hips roll as you run the entire underside of your cock between her lips. She gasps and breathes deeply. She's holding it all the while. All the time it takes for you to draw your cock back, so the tip is right there. Ready.

She let's go as you do. The air escapes her lungs with a sharp squeal. You let your cock sink in. Slow but persistent, you push further and further, feeling her tensing. Then the clench and tightness overwhelms. She gasps and squirms, wriggles beneath you and her nails scratch at the fabric of the table beneath her.

You push again, sinking your cock as far as you can through her wet hole.

There's a loud snap and squeal from Minju. Pretty girl broke a nail. It flew off somewhere across the room, such is her grip onto the table. "Fuck. So fucking full," she manages, barely. It's more the noise you force from her than any actual communication.

You draw your hips back and she's quick to encourage you, "again," she says.

Your hips are driving forward again, pushing every last centimetre back through her.

Minju whimpers. There's this short, sweet purr from deep within her. You feel her stretch, she moves a little, adjusting herself atop the pool table. There's a warmth that swells, tightens, and pulsates. And you feel the breath come easier. It leaves her as though her body has settled to a kind of ease and pleasure, some form of satisfaction.

You refuse to let her rest. It's not what she would want.

It's not what you want.

You run your hands along her inner thighs, past her knees until you finally reach her ankles and pull them together and hold them aloft. You lift and pull her ass up slightly from the table. She's suspended now while you fuck into her.

The shake of her small frame is completely erotic. Watching her ass and thighs jiggle as you fuck into her. That plump little ass taking slap after slap from your hips.

Her perfect skin reddens as her moans louden the longer you last. There are high-pitched squeals and low and gritty growls. They bounce around the empty bar, reverberating and multiplying—echoing back louder than before.

"Harder." She thinks she can take more. Look, Wonyoung was demanding, she wanted to control everything and push your limits, but Minju? Minju is whole different type of demanding. She's welcoming everything you have with every fibre of her being. Her pussy so eagerly taking it all, and it just seems like no matter what limit you push past, or the more Minju takes, the more she craves.

You pull her legs to you, calves on your shoulders, feet in the air, and your hands move firmly onto her hips. You steady her—ready her. Your grip bruises the tender skin (hey, it's what she wants) and then you fuck her like your life depends on it. Your cock pumping inside with reckless abandon.

"Keep going! Just like that! Fuck!" her voice rises over the rhythm of your low grunts, and the crack of your hips slapping against her ass.

Minju's face twists, red and flushed. She's so tense. Muscles tight around the neck and her teeth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip. Her voice is low and raw, growling, as she pleads for more with words you can't pretend to understand. It's not eloquent or graceful... In fact, it's that incoherence that makes this all the better—so utterly unbothered, unconcerned with anything other than being thoroughly used, fucked and defiled.

She has that hungry glaze in her eyes when you look down upon her, a girl being exactly the kind of filthy thing she promised to be. And those eyes only draw you in, you're pushing over her, folding her legs further against her body until she's truly helpless. Pinned to the table. Bent in two. No ability, nor want, to stop you from dominating her.

"I'm gonna—" she tries to speak until you press down, right into her. She squeezes your cock inside that tight, creaming hole. Then she whines, loud.

So loud.

Her back would arch high if it could. But she can't break free. You have her completely immobilized with your upper bodyweight. And fuck does she love every second of it. She's got handfuls of her shirt, pulling it, clutching, writhing. Ecstasy courses through her and eyes roll.

And now she's rolling, you're turning her. Ankles in your hands, you have pulled out and you're flipping her onto her front, face down into the table. She’s just… accepting it. Not an ounce of fight in her. Not even a word. Just a throaty moan.

"Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” you’re ordering, “give me your hands.”

She reaches her arms back over her subdued body and lets you take her delicate wrists.

She submits.

Just lying there prone, her delicate body against the table, with that tight little ass perched on the edge of it, and that skimpy underwear still pushed aside for her throbbing cunt. Those slender legs left hanging either side of you. And go on, you're allowed to think it in the simplest of terms; Minju is sexy. In a word, that's it. Sexy. And yet, the reality is there's so much more you can say. Every soft curve of her toned body is alluring, she is magnetic and inviting, and that cute face peering over her shoulder, long hair spilled all behind it. All the words in the world couldn't do justice to describe her—couldn't properly capture the image.

"What are you going to do to me, daddy?" Oh, she says it so seamlessly, slips it in like it's been on her lips for a while - floating in the atmosphere since you took control. And now that it's finally landed, you feel its weight. It has her voice different; smokey and dripping with sex. And it hits you straight between your legs.

She licks her lips and tests it out again, just for good measure: "what does daddy think I deserve?"

One hand holding her wrists against the small of her back, another gripping her hip. Her legs sway lazily, unable to reach the floor. Helplessly dangling, waiting for her fate. And you're not a man to disappoint a girl like Minju.

"I'm going to use the needy little slut in front of me," you say as the head of your stiff cock probes at her cunt, slipping between her wet lips and sliding against her swollen clit. Teasing her.

You draw it back up again and pushing apart her ass cheeks with the length of your cock. Slipping under the thin fabric of her soaked panties.

She bites her lower lip and whimpers through her teeth. The head of your wet cock slides against her tight asshole, and her hips twitch back. "Whatever you need, take it from me." She means that. There's yearning in every word. The hunger and desire in her voice growing thicker.

You push against her, cock sandwiched between her cheeks, pushing your weight down and pressing her against the table. Her eyes close for a moment, her fingers curl into her palms.

"Yes. Fuck," Minju's desperate encouragement spills through clenched teeth.

You pull back your cock and replace it with your thumb, sliding your hand over her ass and slipping it against her puckered hole.

"Please da—" You slip the tip of your thumb just inside her ass and hold it there while she holds her breath.

Anticipation—

Waiting—

Knowing what's coming next.

Minju is completely still as you drive your cock into her cunt again. Sinking yourself in so deep—balls deep. Her hands become tight fists and her whole body is shaking. You withdraw and plunge again, and she hisses, breathing from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and shallow, and fighting to speak.

"I'm a dirty, needy, little slut and you’re going to use me—"

You spit at her spread ass, right onto your thumb, and use it to dig a little deeper. "What are you?" your question provokes an instant answer,

"I'm a horny slut. I'm a fuck-hole. That's what I am."

As if it's a reward for her honesty, you fuck her a little harder. Push your thumb a little deeper. She smiles through a howl of ecstasy, the sound swelling into the room.

"Tell me again," you command with another pump of your hips, stretching her even more with your thumb.

Her words crackle, dying in her throat with each impact of your hips, "I'm just a dumb girl who needs to be full of cum."

No sane man would refuse it. Not you, not anyone. Definitely not you at all. You couldn't resist any part of her, but especially not that filthy demand. Especially not with how you felt watching those gorgeous fucking curves ripple every time your hips slapped against her ass.

It's all so easy, how you continue, keeping pace. Thumb deep in her ass. Balls smacking against her soaked pussy with every thrust. It's a pleasure all too overwhelming—a thrill, a sensation, a powerful sense of utter fucking satisfaction and all-consuming desire—an erotic overflow inundates, a swell, an ever-growing crest inside your balls.

"Minju. I'm. Gonna—"

"Cum in me? Please." She's the hallmark of innocence-gone-wrong; the way such words roll off her tongue with playful ease. And she knows all the right ones. The ones that she knows will bring all the right reactions. To speak to you on a primal level. She's at it again, cutting into you, "Inside— Inside me."

Cutting through you like the blade of a knife, right to your core and you obey—fuck.

"Daddy please."

You're incensed.

Dogged with the pounding you're giving her, you have lost control of just how deep you have your thumb in her ass. This is so Indecent. Obscene, even. For you, or for anyone, to just... enjoy something like this. Your body is roaring with lust as her ass and cunt both squeeze on you, clamping you as you drive yourself to the brink.

"I wanna... feel your hot load," her voice comes shaking through the unabated pounding you're inflicting. "Fill me please," she's begging and it sounds a little clearer now, stronger, a little louder, no doubt because she knows it's almost done.

You tug at her wrists, pulling her arms back and her body away from the table. Her head hangs forward beneath a wave of hair. Face covered by sweat streaks across those pretty sculpted features.

"Please, I'll be a good girl and take every drop. All the fucking cum that daddy has. Make me your stupid dirty little slut," she compels, then yelps with every new slam and stroke of the stiff cock being buried into her again and again.

That tight asshole, and that cock-hugging pussy. All the relentless slamming that you have done and will do. All the desires, with the pent-up frustration, the rage and anger and tension that has built up—you release it. Everything goes as you send your load rushing through your cock to paint her insides.

Pushing everything you have in. Pumping. Driving hard.

Her squeals are like music to the soul. Relief and rapture are overflowing. And fuck. What a ride. What a rush. You pump her full until she's gasping for air, struggling in your grasp and making sure to moan each and every dirty word into the atmosphere as she fights to hold on. What a thrill. And as the two of you hit the limits of physical exhaustion and exhilaration, you pull back. Letting the girl lay there, spent, and filled, on the pool table.

Used.

Satisfied.

Sullied.

Minju to you, today, is a feeling of freedom. Fulfilment. Absolution. As she lay limp, arms out, legs hanging, hair draped over her face and pooling on the table—a girl well fucked and on display. She is satisfaction. And she is dripping with your cum.

She slips her fingers under her panties. That shrivelled piece of fabric that clings, or struggles to. Now she pushes them off her hips and they tumble over her feet.

When this beautiful girl speaks her voice has the distinct scratch of someone whose lungs have had the oxygen stolen from them, her throat sore with moaning, "I need more."

She moves to her back and you can only watch in amazement as she turns to you with that flush face. One of her small, delicate hands falling between her legs and her dainty fingers tracing around her cunt—through her pink folds, and dousing them in your leaking cum.

There's a knock at the door. It rattles in the frame. "Open up!" It's the voice of the young man seeking an afternoon drink. You think that, luckily, hopefully, between the blinds, the posters and the neon lights in the windows along with the dim lighting, he can't see in.

"Fuck off!" Minju shouts. Her chest is heaving, and there are the gentle lulls of a giggle welling in her throat.

You notice she hasn't moved the fingers away from her swollen and sticky cunt. There's a building cackle, almost as if she is going to fall into hysterics.

"Let me in! You should be open!"

"I said fuck off!" Minju's climbing from the table with a wild smile on her face. Cum is trailing from her cunt, pooling, oozing, dripping down her thigh, down her leg. Her tongue slides over her lips, she's eying you up like a tiger.

"I want to ride your thick cock." She's breathing the words out heavy and finally pulling that shirt over her head. Small round breasts exposed. Stiff dark nipples. Hard and taught. That bare torso. Tight and tone. Firm and solid. Every muscle defined under glistening, sweaty skin.

She pushes herself against you until you push between a pair of stools and your ass plants against the bar. "You made me a dirty girl, and now I can't stop."

You find her strength a little unnerving, the way seems so unphased and determined. She's running on pure adrenaline. It's hot, sure, a kind of raw passion is certainly not without appeal, but also maybe a touch too overpowering. The way that she grabs at you, a touch forceful, and the way you come together is perhaps too rough and less than elegant.

So unkempt, un-romantic, yet so insanely gratifying as her soft skin finds yours.

You take her body in your arms, lips on one another, exploring mouths with tongues. Grasping the round cheek of her ass as she lifts her left thigh up to your waist. Hand trailing between the two of you and then grabbing a firm hold of your cock, guiding the thing back to her pussy—and not letting go.

This is it. This is where she belongs.

It’s all so natural for her to be on the end of your cock, so much so that she can casually pull away from the kiss to switch her focus to finding a drink on the bar behind you. She’s taking a drink of it now and some of it spills from the corner of her mouth.There is something undignified in that, but utterly perfect nonetheless.

She's grinding against you now, swirling her hips and cooing like a little kitten, as your hands move over her ass and that silken smooth back.

Minju sets the empty glass back down on the bar, and pulls back to meet your eyes. She presses a finger to her tongue, her eyes gleaming and focused solely on you, as she guides a small, playful trail of drool to run over her glistening tits. "Fuck," she breathes through a grin, taking both her hands and smoothing that drool over her chest.

Another knock at the door. Another fist pounded into its frame.

All these fucking interruptions.

"Ugh! Fuck this. Come on, follow me." And before you know it, she's guiding you across the room. "I'm going to ride you until I can't walk. Until I'm so sore that every step will remind me what it felt like to have you deep inside me."

Your phone rings, on the floor in the pocket of your trousers. Who would call right now? Just as one interruption finally concedes at the door, another emerges.

Minju bends to fish it out of your trousers. Her little ass, one cheek marred with a handprint from your grasp, is so close you could bend forward and eat it (any other time, you would.) but it's not that which intrigues you the most. When she rises, slowly, your phone is in her grasp, screen displaying Wonyoung's name.

"This should be fun," Minju chuckles to herself. She swipes the answer button and raises the device to her ear. "Hello?"

Minju reaches out to hold your hand and pulls you toward the staff only door. "Sorry, he's a little busy right now," she says as she walks through the door with you in tow. Her head pivots. Minju stares, eyes boring deep into yours. That sultry expression. The spark of desire igniting all over again.

Minju turns on her heel, letting you go and taking a step back. Thin fingers stroke over her cum-soaked thigh, up and along her wet lips, higher and past her flat stomach, sliding between her firm tits. "He is really busy."

She points at the couch in the break room, gesturing you to sit. You oblige, a little nervous about the turn of events. She's rubbing at her perky little tits as she speaks, "do you want me to take a message?"

"Minju..." you say with warning, ready to take the phone off her. But it's so hard to ignore how utterly sexy she is, and your hand starts to stroke along your shaft. She turns her body and poses, looking over her shoulder to you, and she grins. Minju affords you all the time you need to admire her while she listens to the ramblings of Wonyoung through your phone.

Minju steps toward you, looking down at you. "You need to speak to him?" She rests a hand on your shoulder, and then she clambers over you, straddles you. Her leaking cunt right above your cock. She licks her lips and rubs her slick pussy over your stiff dick, eyes focused on you, head tilted down. "Give me one second."

She holds the phone against her collar and shifts above you, resting the tip of your cock against her hole.

"Minju, let me—"

She sinks onto your cock.

Inch by pleasurable inch, she takes you. Minju rocks forward and adjusts to settle on the length of your rod. Fully hilted and stuffed. She's a slick sheath of velvet on your stiff rod and you realise then just how perfectly she fits on you. You bite your tongue, trying to not make a noise so you don't alert the woman on the other end of the phone. Minju, however, is careless, and she lets out a soft moan as she shifts on you, readying herself.

Cum still seeps out of her cunt and down your shaft—your own and hers in some messy cocktail. The smell is sharp but unmistakable. It hangs in the air as the unmistakable evidence of what has happened and what will happen again. It’s so potent; invigorating and exciting. A reminder of everything and more, as if you would ever forget it—as if you could ever forget what she has become for you.

Minju draws the phone back to her face and, with a cocky smirk parting her lips, she speaks again, her voice breathy and full of lust.

"He's in a bit of a tight spot right now." She throws you a wink and continues, "give him ten—wait, no—give him fifteen minutes and whatever is left of him is all yours."

There's the sound of a voice coming through the phone, so unmistakably Wonyoung's but you can't make a word of it out. There's another sound, one much dirtier, that fills the air between the two of you. The soft squelching as Minju rocks and rotates those full hips on you.

"Sorry, what was that?" Minju is stifling a giggle and not-really trying to keep the naughtiness of the situation in check. "Yeah, Wonyoung,you’re right. It's me, Minju," she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes fix on you. Then her tongue flits from her lips, sweeping from left to right.

‘It's me, Minju.’

Look, it’s not really a surprise that they know each other well. It was always a possibility that Minju had just heard of Wonyoung but had never really been acquainted. Thinking back, however, the strength of her reaction to the girl’s name should have told you everything. The truth is now ever so clear.

Not that Minju is going to let you process it. She will not allow you to focus on anything other than the caress of her pussy over your sensitive cock. She's elegant with the movements of her hips—the motions subtle and slow. Her pace is sinful. She's running her tongue over her teeth and staring at you, enjoying the quiet grunts that rattle from your throat.

"He showed up in—" Her breath hitches and she catches a moan in her throat before it escapes. "In the bar, drinking alone."

There's a gasp, then another as she strokes her hands through the locks of your hair. "Yeah. He was doing that." She's laughing under her breath and looking you up and down. "That thing with his hand, yeah, it's cute."

“What? No. I wouldn’t.” You’re getting half a conversation and none of it makes any sense.

She reaches out her hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw and her body leaning in. "He's got a sexy jaw line," she admits and then picks up the speed of her movement.

Her hand slides down your neck and presses into your collar. "His body?" Minju hums as her hips are churning; her body is rolling and her abs are flexing. "Yeah, I think so too."

Minju's back arches and her tiny tits bounce as her movement changes, bouncing rhythmically on your cock. She's adjusting and getting more comfortable on you. As the seconds pass, she's getting rougher and moving ever faster.

Fuck.

"Well, he's drunk, so it's no surprise."

It's been no end of strange situations over the past couple of months, but this may well be the strangest yet. The girls are having a friendly conversation, but one is on top of a cock that's dripping with her mess.You're still trying to piece it together. They're friends—that much is clear. But there's still so many questions unasked: How? Since when? And why are they having their catch up right fucking now?

Her delicate frame moves fast now and the rise and fall of her chest growing sharper leading to short breaths.

"Mhm," she utters, keeping her voice low and words at a premium. "N—No we aren't." To give her credit, she's actually very good at sounding natural. In some twisted way, it's one hell of an audition for how talented of actress she can actually be.

But that image comes crumbling down before your eyes.

Just for a moment, the picture freezes. Her mouth is half-open, eyes wide. She bites down on her lip, silencing herself, and then she drops her hand from her ear. She's hitting her fist, clenched around the phone, against her thigh repeatedly as she fights against her own body. There's another choked grunt as she is being pushed ever so close to the edge.

She draws the phone to her face again, breathing in deep and staring at you with those glossy eyes scanning all across your body, and she swallows.

"We aren't fucking," Minju denies, as your hands creep up from her slender thighs, sliding over those beautiful taut hips, gripping tight and helping pull her back and forth. It's clear, from the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the subtle trembling of her chin, she's hanging on by a thread, ready to lose it at any second.

"No. Don't—" Minju holds the phone out, and she’s looking at it—you can see it too—Wonyoung has just ended the call. "Ah fuck it." Minju throws the phone down on the couch.

She looks at you with a face that's a little lost in thought, considering things unknown to you. All while her body is on auto-pilot, still fucking down onto you.

After a moment, her face changes, an expression of indifference, of calmness. She smiles a little and rests both of her hands on your shoulders. Staring deep into your eyes, she grows ever more serious with a tinge of intent. She shifts from auto-pilot to manual, tightening the grip with her legs and slowing the pace, but fucking you harder.

Minju rides the ridge of your cock. Your whole length is dragged up and down her insides, setting every inch of you on fire. She moans every time she slams onto you.

Every time.

She's falling further apart in front of you—coming completely undone. Eyes rolling and biting that lip again. Hips shifting in all kinds of directions. A cacophony of beautiful grunting sounds that flood the room.

Minju is a woman derailed by pleasure.

"God. Your cock— Your cock is—" She's struggling now and you're only going to make it worse. Using the hands on her hips, you buck yourself up into her, bringing yourself a fraction closer each time.

"The things this cock— the things you— fuck." Minju has no power to string any kind of sentences together, no matter how many words you force from her. They grow less and less like words you can understand until all that remains are these loud and unashamed gasps.

Gasp after sharp and unstoppable gasp.

The rush of exhilaration courses through her, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She feels it. All over. It's written on her face, in the way that she moves and in the look in her eyes. A look like that is a hard thing to fake, even for her—there's nothing else like it. Minju is cumming all over your cock and every bit of it is evident in every tense muscle, the quiver in the corner of her mouth, the sheen across her brow, the mist in her eyes as she blinks lazily and tries not to be overcome, overawed, with emotion and all the intense sensations, one wave after another, rippling through her.

You're just about there again too. You try to warn her, but you're fucking up into her with so much energy that you're not sure if the words ever left your mouth. But she knows it, somehow, because she has renewed aggression in her. Even through her orgasm, she's bouncing on your cock with such ferocity. Minju takes hold of your head and draws you into her. Nose to nose. Foreheads touch. "Cum in me again."

They're four of the best words she could have said.

She rides you faster still as you pump rope after hot rope into her cunt, your entire length filling her already overflowing cunt. You cum so hard inside her that the world seems to distort, twist, and wane.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouts in a whisper—her voice stolen by pleasure. "Fill my little pussy."

And with every last ounce of strength you have, you continue. Bucking into her, driving deeper with the last throes of your second load. It's too much. It's beyond pleasure and into pain now, as you have nothing left to give her.

You squeeze at her hips and waist, holding her down and doing everything you can to stop her fucking you.

You're panting. Tired. Done.

Done.

Minju raises herself just enough to slip that ruined and swollen cockhead from the depth of her. You watch as your combined fluids flow out of her onto your leg.

All that filth, a dirty combination of the two of you. Two loads of your cum drained into that one pretty pussy.

Minju is stroking a hand up your stomach, your chest, along your neck and jawline. Across your face and to your chin, so slowly, as if memorising your features.

You watch her body, so fucking perfect, flexing and trembling still and her breasts heave beneath sweat and exertion. Her breath is so ragged that a chuckle emerges between the hard, deep inhales and exhales. She's sweating, perspiration painting her body and strands of long hair matted to her head. So beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

She looks into your eyes, studying, thinking. "You feel better now," her voice has returned to the softness of before, low and sultry. "Don't you?"

With a smile, your hands move again, wandering further up. They snake their way around her slender waist. There's something strange, something new, about how they explore her—before, you were quick to set them and demand control. But not now. Now, it's tender and grateful and you have a slow, searching rhythm to the touches that skim the skin across her skin.

"Yeah." It's honest. You do. She has done her magic, she has restored the balance, and the release has cleared a space within the self, within the mind. You stare back into her gaze, "thank you."

"No." Minju brings her head forward, her face almost colliding with yours. "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed, I really—" She bites down on her lips and hesitates. She pauses for a second before she begins to move herself off you. Standing up straight, wobbling for a moment on the spot before stepping off and the sticky remains of your fucking cling to her inner thighs, glistening on the flesh, thick and trailing down from her hole.

She stares at you for a moment in some profound silence. You sit on the couch, on that musty old fabric, fully spent and staring. She's searching for something, eyes drifting over the room until it catches her eye, and she heads right for it.

You find the strength to stand and as you do, you’re still watching the sway of her body—noticing each bounce of her perfectly formed butt. Your eyes linger, appreciating the body that was given to you, enjoyed by you, and that gave so much to you. Your strength slowly builds from within, your legs are sore, your stomach and core are aching, your lungs feel crushed.

She's fumbling around on the table for something, she's leaning over slightly, her thighs pressed together. She wears sex like a crown—the pride, confidence, and accomplishment manifesting in her natural glow. Minju radiates. There's always something so electric about a woman in the post coital haze.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"No."

"You should," she says as she turns, fishing one out of the pack and perching herself on the edge of the table, crossing over her legs. "Makes you less nervous. You might need it."

There's an elegance in the way she slips the filter between her lips. An attractiveness in the casual way that she places the box down. With practiced poise, she flicks her wrist with lighter in hand so it flips open and her thumb runs against the sparkwheel. Once, twice, and on the third go the light takes and the flame holds steady. Minju lights the end of the cigarette and leans in, taking a deep draw and holding it.

It's mesmerising to watch. The way her mouth closes around the stick, how the soft glow dances upon her features. A darkness in the hollows of her cheeks as the smoke fills within, while she flicks the lighter back closed and slides it on the table.

Minju tilts her head back as her lungs empty, billows and tendrils escape into the room.

In the silence, you've had some realisation.

Minju is cool.

Like— really cool.

So you stand naked, facing her, in the breakroom of the bar she... works in? Owns? Hell, you don't even know that. Doesn't matter. And you finally ask her, "how do you know Wonyoung?"

For a long moment she just smiles, blowing smoke towards you, teasing with silence.

"We go way back," she says, and that is hardly the complete answer that you've hoped for.

Eventually, she offers more. "High school. We were friends." Minju studies the cigarette, eyeing the burning stub. "Guess you could say we were closer than that. Fuck. If not for—"

Silence.

And yet you wait.

"Well, there was this boy," she continues eventually, offering a soft and resigned smile. "My crush, and then my boyfriend. He was my first. First kiss, first date. First—" Minju looks over to the wall and inhales hard on the cigarette again. She breathes in slowly and you watch the small ember dance, the edges turning amber and glowing bright before she brings the cigarette down and flicks ash in the tray.

"What happened?" you ask, taking a seat alongside her on the table, pushing a cup aside to make space. It's not exactly hygienic, but nothing the two of you just did was.

"Wonyoung happened. Right before we left school, he left me for her and he thought he had a chance, but, well, you know Wonyoung. She's unattainable."

"You blame her?"

"Fuck no. But it didn't exactly bring us closer. He left me for her, she rejected him. What a mess."

There is always something when Wonyoung is in the picture, a messy little tangled web, something hidden behind those silky smiles. She's the reason for many lost loves and many lonely nights. You take a pause to appreciate that fact—to see what's really at the core. She’s the common denominator. Wonyoung—the arrogant heartbreaker.

"So what was all that about? On the phone?" you ask, trying to make some sense of it all.

Minju laughs aloud, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. She holds her cigarette between her slim fingers and rests her other hand on your thigh. "I wanted to play with her a little. I wanted her to know. Because well, and no offense, but you’re one of her possessions. She basically owns you. Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot, but I wanted to see how she would react."

"So you teased her."

"Pretty much."

She laughs a little. There is some spark in her eye, born out of childish fun.

"Don't think she cares," you shrug.

You both turn toward the door that leads back into the bar. You both heard it. Out there. The knock against the front door of the bar.

Minju turns to you, crushing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. There's a smirk on her lips and amusement in her eyes. In that look alone, there's a lot to unpack; there's an air of knowing, a glimmer of deviousness, and something else lurking beneath the surface.

"Then why is she knocking on the door?"

Next Part

#minju smut #minju x reader #izone smut #kim minju smut #kpop smut #male reader #m reader #wonyoung smut

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tofuingho · 2 years

Text

I've been reading sad prompts again and need some happy:

Soulmate AU Jason/Danny

In this universe, on the youngest soulmates 18th birthday, the two people swap bodies for an amount of time. I think typically in this type of soulmate story, it's supposed to happen when they're asleep (they wake up in the other's body), but the chaos of it happening when they're awake/in the middle of something is too funny. Maybe they switch at the exact minute the youngest was born?

Anyway, imagine:

Danny is suddenly in the body of tall muscular beefcake Jason and Jason is in the body of is-this-a-child-? Danny (short twink king Danny).

1) They switch when Jason is in the middle of family dinner at Wayne Manor.

2) They switch when Red Hood is in the middle of kicking the shit outta someone.

3) They switch during Danny's daily ghost battle. (Danny was flying when they switch, so Jason immediately falls 50 ft to the ground)

4) [Angst] They switch while the Fentons are in the middle of vivisecting Danny.

5) They switch while Danny was in the Ghost Zone and Jason is very stressed about being in some sort of Lazarus realm.

6) The switch while the Batfam is in the middle of fighting Joker. Danny throws Jason's gun in the Joker's face and then just starts pummeling him. Danny does NOT like clowns and this one's clearly an asshole.

7) They switch while Jason's in the middle of making dinner and Danny does NOT know how to cook.

8) Jason is the younger and the Batfam decides to try to look as normal as possible, so they set up a birthday party for Jason. When they switch Danny has a moment of 'Oh fuck no' because his soulmate is rich.

9) Jason is younger and Danny is very concerned about how shitty his apartment is. Were those gunshots?!

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #jason todd #soulmate AU #dc×dp prompt #dp x dc writing prompt #with options

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sunarc · 1 year

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𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖈 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗~23

𝕬 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖒𝖘 𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌:𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 𝖘𝖔 𝖉𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘. 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖋𝖆𝖇. 𝕸𝕯𝕹𝕴

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊 1

Corruption ft. Toji

~ You come into Toji’s bar every night. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in such a scary dangerous place?

𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊 2

Exhibition ft. Sukuna

~Sukuna is a sex instructor. He teaches virgin men how to make a girl cum. His favorite way to do that is by making you squirt in live action for his class.

𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊 3

Squirting ft. Osamu ft Atsumu

~“If I can make you squirt faster than him then you have to say it”

“Say what?”

“That I’m the better twin”

In which Atsumu and Osamu have a competition to see who can make their bestfriend squirt the fastest.

𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊 4

Videotaping ft. Suna

~Suna wants to show your shitty boyfriend how to fuck you correctly. What better way to do that then sending him a video of you screaming his name on his cock?

𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊 5

Breeding ft. Sakusa

~You can’t help but to have a crush on your favorite customer who comes in to get his suit tailored every week. Noone has to know that he fucks his cum inside of you as payment

𝖇𝖔𝖓𝖚𝖘 𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊

Double penetration ft. Gojo & Getou

~ Being Gojo’s servant includes cleaning up after him, cooking his meals, caring for his every need and in many cases lifting up your maid’s dress to show his friends your pretty pussy.

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hoe4sports · 17 days

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How this ends p5

Fridolina Rolfo ft Alexia Putellas x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 alternate

Author’s note: Here is the ending to the “how this ends”. I hope you have enjoyed my series, and that you keep reading my stories.

Warning: non

Summary: Alexia tries to repair what she once broke.

After coming home from your trip to Sweden with Fridolina, Alexia had begged you to come see her. At first, you bluntly refused. Never again, you promised yourself. But then. the leafes turned brown, and the ocean changed into a temperature only a fisherman could handle swimming in. Just like the seasons changed, you came around and agreed to meet her.

Picking a spot to meet her wasnt as easy as it seems. She suggested to meet up at her place, but you refused. You decided that meeting up in what once was your own homes would remind you of too many good memories and you would end up forgiving her on the spot.

Meeting up at Fridolina's place, just felt inapropriate. You had too many good memories with her to ruin your peace. It wasnt like you still loved Alexia. You loved her, but like the number of dates she took you to declined, so did your feelings for her. Fridolina picked up the pieces of what Alexia broke, and she worked hard every single day to glue it back togeter.

Arriving at the cafe, you immediately spotted Alexia among the tables. You felt your heart drop to your gut at the sight of her. She was wearing a cap covering her dark baggy eyes as she looked down. Her outfit didn’t resemble something Alexia would normally wear, only a plain pair of jeans with a stain and a white t-shirt.

Even though you felt less affected by the breakup by the day, just like your wounds had started closing up: they definitely hadn’t healed. You felt like your stomach was about to twist inside out, and tried to take a deep breath which only ended in you suppressing a yawn that turned into an embarrassingly squeak.

Alexia immediately shot her head up in your direction before practically tumbling out of her chair. Her frame moved towards you with her hands reached out in your direction. You looked at her hands. The gesture was out of pure routine after spending 13 years together. When she reached you, you gave her an apologetic look and she pulled her hands in, slightly redder in the face.

“hi” you tried to say confidently, but it ended up being more of a whisper. “Hola” she whispered back.

The pair of you standing completely dumbfounded in the middle of the cafe surrounded by couples and families. The tension was thick, and it made you feel like you were on display for the whole cafe to see. “Wanna walk?” Alexia asked, but it ended up being more a telling you instead of a suggestion.

It’s odd, you think. You haven’t seen Alexia since before the summer. Now, it’s late September. Everything is different now. It’s has all changed. Eventually, you moved out of Frido’s apartment into your own home. A place with only one tooth brush, one hairbrush and one water bottle. A home where you could eat lasagna on a Wednesday because you didn’t need to cook for an athlete.

As you walk quietly on the gravel listening to nothing but your shoes hitting the rocks; the sound of the silence becomes unbearable. “How are you?” Alexia spills out. You raise your brow at her. Did she really just ask how I am, you think to yourself while internally rolling your eyes.

“I’m feeling pretty good. Going to Sweden this summer and staying with Fridolina’s family really really helped.” You practically spit the words at her.

A part of you feels good saying that harsh truth to her, to be brutally honest, but a part of you does still love Alexia. You see the hurt on her face, but she hurt you. She chose this for you, and she dosent get to slip away from the responsibility of the situation.

“What’s the deal with Frido? Why do you car-“

“Listen, Alexia. I’m gonna be transparent here. I’m only here because I wanted to tell you in person, before it comes out through media; I’m seeing Fridolina.”

“It’s kinda hard not seeing her when you stay at her place, no?” Alexia laughs.

Your eyes tear up.

“I love her, Alexia. I’m in love with Fridolina.”

After your walk with Alexia, that was cut short because of your confession; you retreated hom to Frido. The only issue with what you had just confessed to Alexia, was that you hadn’t confessed your feelings to the girl you were in love with.

When you got home, you immediately popped yourself into the couch lying down on your belly. You let out an audible sigh before laying your head down. Why did it feel like a conflict of interest?

You knew that you loved Frido, and you had loved her since you woke up from mourning your relationship. Frido had been there every step of the way. Always patient, always kind and always good. Frido was the greater woman. She was just perfect.

Abrudly, you were cut off from your own thoughts when Frido suddenly appeared from the corner. The pair of you both let out a scared scream before laughing at each other.

“Sötnos, how was your walk with Alexia? Did you get any answers?”

Frido moved towards you before sitting down next to your head. Her hands running through your somewhat knotted hair from the wind at the park.

“Yes”

You sat yourself up, looking straight into Fridolina’s blue sparkling eyes.

“Not to be noisy, but. And?”

You moved towards her face, gently reaching your fingertips towards her face. Your face just centimetres from the Swede.

“And…” you repeated silently, barely whispering trying to catch your breath.

“Y/n? What did you talk about? The cat? A possible regroup? Fill me in please! And what?”

The way Frido’s natural curiosity kicked in had you grinning at her. You looked at Frido’s lips before looking at her eyes again. Your hand tucking away a few strands of her blonde hair. A soft smile on your face leaning towards her ear before whispering softly:

“And, I love you, Fridolina Rölfo”

You and Frido had just come home from Mapi and Ingrid’s when you felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of missing your cat. Your tears were dripping, softly hitting Frido’s couch while looking at your phone. The screen was showing you your cat’s adorable little face. Alexia always complained about how many pictures you took of the little guy, but you loved him to pieces. She always complained about cat litter. How expensive cat food was. How expensive taking him to the vet was. How he couldn’t be in your bedroom or in the kitchen. But you didn’t care. He had never betrayed you, so you never betrayed him.

You looked at his sweet little face while swiping to the next picture. It was a picture of him sleeping on your chest while you were fast asleep aswell. The next picture was your cat with a flower on his head. After the flower picture, a video of him chasing a robotic fish popped up. Your tears kept pressing while you laughed at yourself.

“YN? You will never guess what Mapi just texted me! Oh, are you crying?” Fridolina said as she barged in clearly in shock. You looked up at her, and she was already moving towards you in the speed of lightning. Her hands reached out to you as she arrived at the couch and your hands immediately intertwined with hers.

“I.. It’s just silly, don’t worry about it”

“Skatt, it’s never silly if something makes you cry. I always worry about you. Is there anything I can do to help? Hell, I’ll find a way to catch the moon if that is what you want.”

You flashed your screen towards Frido who looked back at your black cat.

“Is it your cat?”

“It was, but he lives with Alexia now. She refuses to give him to me..”

“Do you want him back?”

“Yes, what kind of question is that? Of course I do”

“Okay; you get what you want, love.”

“But there will be cat litter, he has midnight zoomies and he loves to yell, AND you don’t even like cats?”

“If he makes you happy, then I’ll find a way to get him to you. I’ll be any type of animal person for you. Maybe not a spider or a snake, but a cat? No issues there!”

“But, Alexia dosent want to let him go”

“Don’t worry about the practicality, I’ll sort it out”

The next day, Frido arrives from training with her bag and your cat in a carrier, making you feel happier and more grateful than ever for finding someone that loves you the way you love them.

—

Your eyes filled with tears while looking down on the woman in front of you on one knee with a velvet box in her hands. The idea of marriage, a big grand wedding with all of the people the you loved was something that had lingered in your head since you saw your mum in her wedding dress back when you were 6. Since that moment, you knew you wanted marriage.

Frido’s blue eyes were sparkling reflections the stars in the dark sky above her. She had gone above and beyond to make the proposal special. With the help of Ingrid, she had planned a secret trip for you to Lake Como where she planned to purpose by the gate to heaven at the date of your 3 year anniversary. Frido being Frido, didn’t stop there.

“Y/N, from bestfriends to girlfriends. You are the light of my life. The last years with you have been the best years of my life. I might not have gotten the chance to grow up with you, but I’m ready to grow old with you. Y/N, will you please do me the honour of marrying me?”

“Yes, Fridolina. Yes, yes, yes!” You cheered before throwing yourself around her. She caught you and spun you around in circles. It felt exactly like a scene from a romantic movie. Then, it was time for the ring. It was sparkly and grand, but elegant and classy. It was exactly what you wanted. You looked into Frido’s eyes as she slid the ring on your finger while tears of joy were rolling down your cheeks.

«Its perfect, its everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” You say as your tears spill down your cheeks while framing Frido’s cheeks with your hands.

“You deserve it, you are so good to me. You are perfect, everything I could’ve ever dreamed of. I would be a fool miss out on trying to wife you up” the last comment made you giggle leaving a smile of your fiancé’s face.

She then reached around her back and somehow pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Not roses, you don’t care much for roses. Alexia would buy you roses, and you’d say “thank you”. But you don’t care for roses. The flowers Frido picked out for you, were bluebells: your favourite. A flower that was rare in the nature, even rarer in shops. The gesture brought tears to your eyes.

“Close your eyes, baby” Frido commanded before she put her hands carefully on top of your eyes.

“There is more?” You whisper, a hushed cry chocking your sob. You felt slightly confused, but you trusted her. She turned you around to face another direction. Music started playing, or rather a live band started playing Ed Sheeran’s “perfect”. Her hands dropped from your eyes and you immediately opened them. There, just 50 meters away from you; You and Frido’s families and friends, 60 people flown in from all over the world to be there on your special day. Your nearest friends came sprinting towards you before wrapping you into a hug knowing that all the pain was worth it.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #barca femini x reader #woso x r #alexia putellas x reader #fridolina rolfo x reader

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cheesycatz · 2 months

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The Making of: Life-Size Malworm Plush

(Wormton AU)

STATS

16 ft 3 in (495 cm) long

Total time: 150 hours

Material Cost: $124

Theoretical minimum cost (based on seamstress wage): $2,524

(Progress photos and commentary below)

I'll be referring to my life-size wormton plush as "malworm" for convenience sake.

Unlike my Spamton NEO, Caine, and Fake Peppino plushies, I didn't spend a lot of time on concept art. Since I planned to make the malworm plush as close as possible to its 2D design, I didn't have to add much stylization, other than simplifying some details (no way in hell was I going to make 104 separate embroidered stitches for the segments of his toes, sorry). I mainly used the planning stage to calculate how wide the body pieces needed to be, plotting it out in 1/4 in : 3 in scale and using circumference formula to find the values I needed. I planned to make it around 10 feet long, the length of a young adult malworm. A lot of this project was improv, but, I mean, it wasn't my first or second or third time making a spamton centipede.

The head was quite a complicated shape, so I carved a tiny model out of craft foam, covered one half of it in masking tape, then cut the masking tape mask (hah) into flat pieces. I then traced the pieces onto graph paper and manually scaled them up by using the fact that I wanted the nose to be 1 ft long as reference. The rest of the pattern pieces were very simple, as wormton's teeth, body, legs, etc were very easy to translate into 2D shapes. I used old school notes as paper for the body, as I needed a lot of it. It was entertaining cutting exerpts of Moby Dick and English Renaissance biographies into body parts. I ended up making the body significantly longer; I had to spend $100 dollars on fur anyways, so why not make a maximum size one?

Making the pattern pieces took around 8 hours. While waiting for the fur to ship, I started cutting out the teeth, legs, and eyes. By the time the fur arrived, I had already sewn 36 worm teeth. I did an 11hr all-nighter to cut all the fur in one sitting the day it arrived. After a long vacuuming session and an uptake in the amount of polyester fiber in my lungs, I finished cutting the pieces, taking about 18 hours and 40 minutes.

As usual, the head was the first thing I worked on. It was...kind of wonky once I flipped it inside out. I trimmed some of the fur so that I could actually see what was happening. The main issues were the lack of any forehead, the nose being way too wide, and the cheeks being too flat. I did some ladder stitching as well as modifying the thing from the inside, and eventually made the head look much better. The cheeks still don't stick out that much still, but I'm happy with how the head looks now. I think it conquered the sopping wet owl resemblance. I inserted wire into the nose and jaws to help them keep their shape.

When I started this project, I wasn't sure whether to make it based off of Wormton or just a copyright-free malworm; I decided to do both. I went with red for the non-Spamton version, as I think it really fits the cartoony fly/mothman-style cryptid look malworms are supposed to have.

I sewed a square pouch into the throat and put in all those teeth. I used hot glue to wrap blue squares around a wire for the proboscis, because I think I would've gone bonkers cuckoo bananas if I had to hand sew that entire thing. The throat pouch holds the proboscis when it's not extended, as well as anything else I wanted to shove in there. I never measured it, but it's around 4-5 ft long. I finally made the Spamton... eye patches(?) and a pair of eyelids, though I didn't end up using them in the photo shoot. I also made a new pair of nostrils, as the old ones kind of got swallowed up from all the plastic surgery I was giving him

Now that the head was finished, I got to work on the body. I sewed the white belly and segments of the body together. I left most of the tail open, as the fur was too thick for me to flip it out at a certain point. I worked on the legs, next. After living out my cosplay dreams by putting the claws on my fingers like bugles chips, I grouped the claws together and sewed most of each leg and foot together, leaving me with many pairs of charred drumsticks (did not taste good)

I attached an extra long wire structure into each set of claws, then threaded the wire through each respective leg and stuffed them. I ladder stitched the claws to each foot, then stuffed each with some plastic beans in order to give the feet weight. I then finished sewing each foot shut. I now had a pile of disembodied limbs and one very long scarf.

I wound many long pieces of wire together to create an armature for the body. While the plush's body is way too heavy to be properly posable, the wire does still give some structure. I wrapped the extra long ends of the legs' wires to the metal spine, using the body's leg holes for reference. I then pulled the body up the metal armature like a sock.

I pulled the legs through their respective holes and stuffed the body. It was the first time the malworm was huggable! It's sort of like an oversized body pillow, in a way. I had to ladder-stich all the limbs, the head, and the rest of the tail, as it would've been completely impossible to flip inside out. It was quite difficult to do on furry fabric, and my thread frequently broke from the force I had to pull with to keep the stitches tight. Eventually, I got everything attached to some degree.

The last details I worked on were the mane, tail tufts, and scopula pads. The mane and tail tufts were ladder stitched onto the body, but I decided to use glue to attach the pads to the feet. I think the extra blue details make his proboscis fit much better, and who doesn't love spider paw pads? I also glued some velcro to the eye patches so that they stay attached better. They slide under the black eye rings.

My malworm was finally finished! I tried to put a lot of effort into the photo shoot so that people who don't know about the AU can enjoy it. I wanted to make it seem like some weird entity whose only goal is obtaining more Spamton brainrot. Hence it making Spamton on Mario Kart DS under the bed, obsessing over the Spamton Plush, inspecting the Spamton Shrine, and just generally harassing the photographer (me, I guess?). I wanted to capture the silliness, creepiness, and lack of respect for personal space that Spamton is known for. I thought about giving him a bag of doritos under the bed like that one image of the isopods eating them, but went with the DS instead. I thought it would be funny to see this thing playing Super Mario 64 DS (or Super Spamton 64) and here the "buh bye!" sound effect when it closes the DSi XL.

That's all from me, for now. I have other Wormton related matter to attend to.

Don't let the parasitic Spamton larvae bite

#wormton au #spamton #spamton fanart #deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #spamton g spamton #deltarune fanart #spamton deltarune #cheesycatz art posts #cheesycatz text posts #NOT FOR SALE you can't pry him from my cold dead hands

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spiteless-xo · 2 months

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╰┈➤ aurora borealis — loving — part 4/5 ⋙ A snapshot over five years of how your relationship with Satoru Gojo develops.

ft. satoru gojo / fem!reader wc. 10.7k cw. nsfw - minors do not interact, explicit language, explicit sexual content (blowjob, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, very minor (blink and you'll miss it) feet kink, submissive-ish gojo), alcohol, friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, sexual tension, sexual jokes, some details are intentionally ambiguous, mention of children/pregnancy, ⚠️major character death⚠️, potential manga spoilers, second person POV

Previous ⋆ Masterlist ⋆ Next

2016.

“Satoru Gojo?”

He makes a strangled sound in his throat—a mixture between a gasp and a groan—and throws his forearm over his eyes. Satoru falls back onto the bed as if wounded while he clutches your phone tight to his chest.

“My government name?”

He rolls back and forth on the bed in feigned agony, curling up into the fetal position on his side and moving his hand away from his eyes to cradle the phone close to his face. He blinks down at the screen, eyes wide and trembling, before flicking up to meet your face.

You stand at the side of the bed with your hands on your hips and a frown on your face, but you’re not mad—not really.

“You couldn’t have given me a cute nickname? Pookie? Love of My Life? Satowoo?”

Your angry facade breaks and you snort. “Satowoo?”

“I dunno—literally anything would be better.”

You reach down and snatch the phone from Satoru’s grip, scrolling away from your text screen with him and back to the messages from Utahime from this morning. She said they were going to come pick up the two of you on the way to Suguru’s house for the party.

“Because I know that idiot is going to beg me for a ride five minutes after I’ve already left the house,” Utahime’s message said.

You respond with a quick confirmation and set your phone down on the nightstand before crawling onto the bed and on top of Satoru. He accommodates you with ease by rolling onto his back, stretching his long legs across the mattress and making room for you to settle onto his lap.

His porcelain skin is marked with dark purple bruises along his collarbones and lines of red scratches across his biceps from the night before. The view makes your heart thud a little harder against your ribcage and you move to press your palms into his chest as you loom above him.

“What’s my name in your phone?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Snookums? Sweetie Pie? My Soulmate?”

“My One and Only.”

Satoru’s expression softens as he speaks. His face relaxes and his eyes widen minutely as his hands come to rest on your hips. The corner of his lip twitches against his cheek as he fights back a smile, but even with all of the theatrics, you don’t let yourself fall for it.

“Liar. That’s your name for Suguru.”

His features sharpen in an instant—grin splitting across his face and gaze turning sinister while his fingers press hard into your skin. Satoru runs his tongue across his teeth, catching on a canine and pressing into it with devilish delight.

“You caught me,” he says, and he can’t hide his excitement. “Whoops! I guess I need to be punished for being so bad.”

Satoru’s voice deepens into a growl and you lurch forward when he presses his hips up into you. He’s already hard against you and you can see more signs of his arousal from the pink flush on his cheeks, slowly crawling down his face, his neck, and down to where your fingers are sprawled across his chest.

“Really?” you say, unimpressed.

“Oh, come on,” he whines. His impatience is evident from the way he drags your hips along the length of his cock and the quickened rise and fall of his chest. “How am I supposed to make it through tonight if I don’t get my rocks off at least once?”

“How are you going to make it through… a night with your friends?”

Satoru nods. His face softens again as he pleads, his brows pitching into the centre of his forehead while he juts his lower lip out in a pout.

He’s determined—you’ll give him that. Willing to try any strategy he can to get you out of your clothes.

Unfortunately, you’re in a bit of a time crunch this morning.

“Uta said they were coming by in a few hours and I still need to finish making my dish for dinner—”

“It’s not going to take you hours to do that.”

“—and I still need to shower and get cleaned off from yesterday—”

“I’ll join you! I bet I can get you extra clean with my tongue.”

“—not to mention the fact that I haven’t picked out an outfit for tonight yet, either—”

“Don’t wear anything! Or better yet, just wrap yourself up in some ribbon so I can unwrap you under the tree.”

You quirk a brow. “In front of everyone?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I’m sure Nanami could use some pointers in the bedroom. Consider it a live demonstration in the art of lovemaking.”

“And Shoko and Suguru?”

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Satoru shoots you with another wolfish grin and you’re painfully reminded of Satoru’s embarrassing run-in with Shoko immediately after eating you out, as well as Suguru demanding that the two of you find your own place to live after catching the two of you hooking up in the living room when Satoru was staying with him.

Despite the excitement in your veins from the press of Satoru’s cock against your core, you give him a gentle pat on the chest and swing your leg off of his lap and step back onto the floor at the side of the bed.

“As romantic as that sounds, Satoru, I’m going to have to decline. Now, I’m going to take a shower while you go… take care of yourself—” you gesture down to the tent in Satoru’s pants, “—and while I’m getting dressed, can you wrap the presents for me?”

“You’re really going to leave me here to jack off by myself?”

His voice follows you out of the room as you make your way to the ensuite.

“Just don’t get cum on the sheets,” you call back before closing the bathroom door behind you and getting ready for your shower.

You and Satoru have been living together for a few months now—dating for almost a year—and it’s been so…

Easy.

Everything with Satoru is effortless—natural. Not that you thought it would be hard—of course, not—but things with him are just so much easier than you ever expected. Maybe being friends for so long beforehand helped.

(Or the unspoken, mutual pining.)

The flirty banter you had as friends has continued, although the stakes are higher now that you know he’ll make good on all his threats. His touch doesn’t linger on your skin anymore the way it used to. Instead, he holds you tight every chance he gets. Like he’s constantly trying to make up for lost time by smothering you with his love.

It’s nice. Waking up every morning wrapped around his body. Feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The way his lashes flutter when he dreams. How his skin turns pink when you touch him.

You never thought that you could be so happy with someone like this.

Under the stream of warm water, you hear the familiar click! of the bathroom door opening. You still, listening to the slow patter of Satoru’s bare feet on the tile as he approaches. He pulls open the shower curtain and seems surprised that you’re already staring over at him, expecting his entrance.

Satoru ducks his head under the shower rod and he steps in behind you, already stripped naked and still sporting a half-hard cock.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence as he reaches past you for his body wash. “I need to shower, too.”

“I thought you were jerking off.”

“Nah, that’s boring.”

Satoru squirts a generous handful of shower gel into his palm, setting the bottle back in place before pressing his hands together to lather the soap. “Want me to help you soap up?”

You level him with a skeptical look, which he returns with a wide grin.

“No funny business.”

He gasps, hand to his chest. “I would never!”

When the two of you make it downstairs, you’re in a panicked rush, certain parts of your body are much cleaner than others, and there’s a dull, familiar ache between your legs as you walk.

“They’re going to be here in less than an hour!” you say, stepping quickly to the fridge to pull out ingredients for a dish that you, realistically, should have prepped last night.

Satoru scoffs, unbothered, as he tugs on an oversized black hoodie. His hair is still slightly damp and beads of water drip from the ends and litter across his hood and shoulders.

When he looks like this—hair floppy on his head and his cheeks flushed pink—it reminds you of the night you first met him. You get a twinge of nostalgia in your chest when you look up from the cutting board and feel a sense of calm wash over you.

“Just tell them we’re running a few minutes late,” he says, leaning back on the kitchen counter beside you. He crosses his arms and rests his head on his shoulder, pursing his lips. “They’ll understand. They were young and in love once, too.”

“I’m not telling our friends we’re running late because we spent too long fooling around in the shower.”

“Why not?” he frowns, and his surprise seems genuine. “Honesty is important.”

It takes you a beat longer than you’re willing to admit before you realize that he’s joking. With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you nudge him in the side. He takes the hit with an exaggerated giggle before he scampers away, leaving you to work on the dish alone.

“I’ll go wrap the gifts,” he calls from over his shoulder.

This is the first time all of you have found the time to get together in almost a year. Since Nanami and Utahime got married, they’ve been spending a lot more time with just the two of them, (“Making babies”, Satoru always says, waggling his eyebrows.)

Shoko’s new position has her working weird hours, so it’s difficult to find time to see her that isn’t in the middle of the night. She works twelve-hour shifts that are both mentally and physically draining at the ER of the new hospital in the city, so you don’t blame her for ignoring Satoru’s incessant texts in favour of getting some well-deserved rest.

But you always find time to see Suguru.

You’re not sure when he stopped being Geto and when he became Suguru to you—the transition was so seamless that you struggle to remember a time when the two of you weren’t as close as you are now.

The dynamic you have with the two boys—Satoru and Suguru—is a fun one. There are times when you and Suguru team up on Satoru for acting immature and doing something needlessly goofy. Other times, Satoru and Suguru team up on you. Teasing you like childish bullies in the schoolyard—poking at your sides and pulling your hair (Satoru) or holding things just slightly out of reach (Suguru).

The real fun is when you and Satoru team up on Suguru.

When you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug while Satoru tries to climb onto his back. When Suguru laughs at the two of you, his eyes wrinkling in the corners in a boyish way that makes your heart feel warm. When he just sits back and watches the two of you playfully bicker, his favourite mug in his hand and a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It’s rare these days to see Suguru really smiling. He’s experienced a lot of loss this past year—first his father in the spring and then his mother shortly thereafter. The girlfriend you thought was perfect for him ended up cheating and breaking his heart in the fall, so now you and Satoru have taken it upon yourselves to take care of him.

Just like how he used to take care of the two of you.

You’re only partway through cooking your dish when you hear a knock at the front door and then your panic spikes. You try to talk yourself into packing up the half-cooked casserole for the car ride, but when Utahime and Nanami walk in, you see panicked looks on their faces, too.

“Our apologies for arriving early,” Nanami says with a soft, embarrassed smile. He walks around the kitchen island to give you a hug and presses a chaste kiss to your temple before pulling away. “We were hoping that you would have some icing sugar so Uta can finish her cake.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” you say, and you gesture to the pantry.

“We tried calling,” Utahime says. She huffs as she sets her dish down on the counter: a plain, undressed cake. She lifts another bag from her feet, where Nanami had set it down, and you can see the rods of a standing mixer peeking out from the top. “All the shops are closed and I’m missing the key fucking ingredient for this goddamn cake.”

You laugh and let her pull you into a one-armed hug. She presses her cheek into yours with a heavy sigh when Satoru’s voice rings out from the other room.

“Is that Utahime I hear?”

“Nobody would blame you if you left him,” she whispers, only half-joking as her face falls at the sound of Satoru’s voice growing louder.

“I said: is that Utahime?”

“Gojo, I don’t—”

When Satoru rounds the corner, he tackles her with a hug, lifting her feet off the ground and spinning Utahime around in a circle while she shrieks at him to let her go. You raise your hands defensively, guiding Satoru out of the small kitchen and into the adjoining dining room.

With any luck, if he keeps spinning around like this, he’ll knock over Utahime’s cake and then he’ll really be giving her a reason to scream at him.

“Uta - hime!” he cheers, bouncing her up and down while her clenched fists pound at his back. “Happy Wedding Anniversary!”

“Put me the fuck down!”

“Aw, come on—I haven’t seen you in ages, Utahime.”

“And you’re never going to see me again if you don’t drop me right this instant.”

“Why?” he coos, but he sets her back down on her feet before leaning into her face. She snarls with disgust and pushes him away, but he returns with a vengeance. “Do I need to be careful with you, Uta? Is there something you need to tell us, hmm?”

“We’re not pregnant,” Nanami says, his voice deadpan as he sets a bag of icing sugar on the counter.

Satoru’s shoulders slump forward. “Aw, really? It's been like a year. Don’t you want to fill that big, lonely house of yours with some mini-Nanamis?”

“You shouldn’t ask people that sort of thing,” Utahime chides, but her back is to him now as she fishes out supplies from her bag. “What if we’re having fertility issues? It’s not any of your business whether or not we’re even trying to conceive.”

Satoru slides back over to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. His body is warm and his hoodie is soft against you and when you tilt your head to the side to accommodate him, he presses his lips softly into your skin.

“Should we spoil the surprise?” he whispers not-so-quietly. “I know you wanted to wait until the party, but I’m just so excited.”

Nanami’s attention shifts to the two of you, his brows up in his hairline. “Do you…” his eyes shift down to Satoru’s hands, which have moved lower to press protectively against your stomach, “have news to share?”

“Yeah,” Satoru says, voice turning serious. Even Utahime looks over at him, eyes wide with excitement. “Came in her this morning—”

Nanami frowns. Deep, long lines form on either side of his mouth as he shakes his head.

“—we’ll see if it sticks this time. Although, the birth control might be an issue.”

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Utahime groans, clenching her hands into fists as Satoru cackles. Her gaze shifts over to you, this time, exasperated. “I really don’t know what you see in him.”

You laugh and raise your hand to cup Satoru’s face. He hums in happiness, leaning into your touch as he holds you tight against his body. “Unfortunately, I’m in love with him.”

“Unfortunate, indeed,” Nanami sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“They’re right though, Satoru,” you say, patting his cheek. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that.”

“Aw, come on—I’m just teasing, they know that.”

Nanami and Utahime shift their attention back to the undressed cake and they pull out the remaining ingredients and set up her standing mixer. You’re grateful to have a bit more time to finish making your casserole.

“Did you finish wrapping all the gifts?” you ask, pressing your lips into Satoru’s cheek while he hums against you.

“Yeah, I just gotta put a bow on Shoko’s gift then I’ll be all done.”

“Can you help me clean up the kitchen then? I should be ready to go once Uta’s finished with the cake.”

“Anything for you,” he coos, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek before pulling away. He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, revealing his forearms, as he walks over to the sink to start washing up your mess from earlier.

You join him at his side, grabbing a towel to dry off the dishes as he cleans them, and then setting them aside to be put away later. By the time everything is cleaned, dried, and put away, Nanami and Utahime are finishing up by piping buttercream icing onto their cake and your casserole only has a few minutes left in the oven.

“We don’t need to fully cook it, I guess,” you rationalize with yourself, reaching for the oven mitts. “We can finish cooking it when we get to Suguru’s—we won’t have dinner for a while, still.”

“Do you think Shoko will attend tonight?” Nanami asks, watching Utahime with amusement as she makes perfect flowers onto the surface of the cake. Her tongue is peeking out from between her lips and you can see the adoration in his eyes as he looks at her.

“She said she’d try to swing by before work.”

Nanami sighs, shifting his gaze from Utahime to you, watching you as you set the oven-hot casserole down onto a trivet to protect the countertop. “It’s unbelievable that she’s working on Christmas Eve.”

“She works almost every day,” Satoru snorts, stepping to peer over Utahime’s shoulder as she pipes the icing. He reaches out from behind her with a single finger, looking to scoop some icing off of the cake but she elbows him in the stomach—hard—and he doubles over with a grunt.

“Ow! Uta, that’s—” he coughs, “—that’s not very ladylike of you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Gojo,” she seethes.

After what Utahime would call, an excruciatingly long twenty-minute drive, the four of you arrive at the home of Suguru Geto with food and presents in tow.

Suguru doesn’t greet you at the door but he leaves it unlocked for you to let yourself in. The second you pass through the doorway, your senses are assaulted with the warmth of his home.

The sight of Suguru’s home decorated in tasteful Christmas-themed decor. The smell of dinner cooking in the oven. The soft sound of atmospheric ambient music playing throughout the home and the even softer sounds of the fireplace video crackling on Suguru’s TV.

You can’t help but grin as you step into the house. You immediately feel at home.

“Suguru!” Satoru yells, cupping his hands around his mouth as he leans over Utahime’s shoulder. She flinches from the volume and shoves at him with her elbow. “We’re here, Suguru!”

Suguru steps around the corner leading to the kitchen with a tea towel in his hands. He’s wiping off food from his fingers but otherwise is dressed in a fitted knit sweater with his hair tied up into a tight bun, akin to the style he used to sport at school.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Gojo held us up,” Uta huffs, pinning the blame elsewhere, despite the fact that she was just as much the cause for the delay as Satoru was.

She kicks off her shoes easily and steps past you to greet Satoru. She presses onto her toes to reach his face, but he still has to duck his head for Utahime’s lips to connect with his cheek. She presses a firm kiss to each cheek as she holds the cake between their bodies.

“It’s good to see you, Geto,” she says, her voice soft. “You look like you’re doing well.”

“I probably wouldn’t have gotten out of bed today if you all weren’t coming over.”

Suguru smiles down at her to punctuate his teasing words, but the lack of warmth in his face has Utahime shifting awkwardly on her feet.

He’s not joking.

“I’ll go put this on the counter,” she says, and you follow her into the kitchen just in time to avoid Satoru’s charge toward Suguru.

“Suguru!” he cheers, and even as you step into the other room, you can hear Suguru’s laughter.

“Is he…?” Utahime speaks to you out of the corner of her mouth. She sets the cake on the counter to free her hands as she looks at you through the reflection of the kitchen window.

“He’s better… but not great.”

She nods solemnly and brushes both palms down the front of her dress. The two of you linger in silence in the kitchen for a moment, allowing the boys outside to greet one another as you share sympathetic looks.

“It’ll just take some time,” you say finally, your voice just a whisper. “I think tonight will be good for him.”

“I hope so,” she says, glancing over to the doorway of the kitchen. From here, you can only see Nanami’s back and Geto’s palm resting on his shoulder. “I’ve grown fond of him over the years. I hate to see him in pain like this.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, and this time you smile. “It’s a shame Satoru hasn’t grown on you yet.”

She groans, rolling her eyes and breaking the tension. “Honestly, I don’t know how you live with him.”

“Does that mean you’re not interested in a husband swap?”

You’re only teasing her and you both know it, but she feigns anger. “I knew it. You’ve always wanted him for yourself.”

“I was there long before you were, sweetie,” you coo, leaning into the bit, “and I’ll be there after you, too.”

“Stupid bitch,” she says, but her tone has lost its bite and she brings a hand up to her mouth to muffle her laughter. “In all seriousness, I’m happy to see you again, too.”

Utahime pulls you in for another hug, this time squeezing you tight around the middle.

“And I hope you don’t think my comments about Gojo are legitimate concerns. I know how happy he makes you and I wouldn’t want to cause you any feelings of doubt.”

She’s lying—you know how much she genuinely hates Satoru. Even before the two of you were dating. Back before she was with Nanami.

But you appreciate her kindness and you’ve never taken any of the snide comments she’s made about him to heart. Besides, Satoru doesn’t even realize how much Utahime truly hates him—he thinks it’s all playful banter.

If it doesn’t bother him, it doesn’t bother you.

“Thank you, Uta,” you say, returning her squeeze before pulling away to look at her face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Nanami walks in as the two of you step away from the hug and he greets you both with a warm smile, his gaze lingering on Utahime. He moves beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her close at his side.

“The boys went upstairs to check out Geto’s… lights?”

“Smart lights,” you explain, shaking your head with fondness. “He’s set up LED lighting in his room and has it all connected to his phone so it changes colour. He’s been chatting about it with Satoru for the past few months, he’s really excited about it.”

Nanami smiles. “That’s good, even if I don’t fully understand the concept.”

“I don’t either, to be honest,” you admit, “but it keeps him busy and helps keep the demons at bay.”

He nods but doesn’t pry. He’s never been one to gossip, especially about someone’s mental health, and he’s heard about what’s been going on in Suguru’s life from the man himself—

Nanami’s firm helped Suguru with his parents’ wills after they passed.

“Geto said that Shoko promised she’d make it here for dinner,” Nanami says. “She told him to have a bottle of whiskey ready in the freezer for her.”

You laugh. “Must be a tough day.”

“I wonder if there’s an increase in injuries and accidents near Christmas,” Utahime says.

Nanami’s attention draws to her like a moth to a flame. Even from behind the shine of his glasses, you can see his gaze soften when he looks down at her.

“I would imagine so, right?” she continues. “People drink more… have to deal with their families—their in-laws … I can picture someone driving off in the snow, drunk on a few too many rum and egg nogs, after a blowout fight with some family member with different political views.”

“That’s a pessimistic viewpoint,” you say with a frown. “Maybe there are less hospital admissions because people want to spend more time with their families. Rather than rush to the ER because of some chest pain, they try to tough it out to enjoy the holidays with their grandchildren.”

“Interesting point,” Utahime says with a nod. “We’ll have to remember to ask Shoko when she gets here.”

“Ask me what?”

The three of you are greeted by the sight of Shoko standing in the doorway of Suguru’s kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a reusable bag of presents in the other. She looks tired—exhausted—with bags under her eyes and dry, chapped lips. She’s still wearing her white coat from the hospital.

“Shoko!”

Utahime steps toward her first, prying the items from Shoko’s hands so she can pull Shoko into a crushing hug. Shoko laughs and her hands come up to press against Utahime’s back to pull her closer.

“Where are the idiots?”

“Upstairs looking at lights,” you say, stepping to pull her in when Utahime steps away. Shoko smells like a mixture of tobacco and hand sanitizer that you’ve grown to love. Since she’s been trying to quit smoking, the smell of tobacco isn’t quite as strong as it usually is.

After greeting all of you, Shoko tells the three of you about her shift at work—all personal identifying information redacted, of course—seated at the coffee table as she pours herself three fingers of whiskey into a short glass, giving the bottle to Nanami to put in the freezer.

“Did Suguru put one in there for me already?” she asks, looking past you as Nanami pulls open the fridge.

He gazes into it for a moment, searching, before turning back to Shoko. “Doesn’t appear so.”

“That little shit,” she hisses. “He’s got no faith in me, I’m telling ya.” Shoko’s fingers press to her lips, miming a cigarette, before she returns her hand back to her lap. A nervous tic. “I told him to stick it in ages ago, but he never believes me when I tell him I’m coming. I should just do it myself.”

“Have you been visiting often?”

Shoko nods—presses her fingers to her lips, sets her hand back down—before speaking. “Yeah, I come by most nights after my shift.”

That makes sense. You know Suguru hasn’t been sleeping, so of course Shoko would come by to stay with him.

When you and Satoru can’t be there.

“Oh!” Utahime misinterprets Shoko’s explanation, glancing between you and Shoko with excitement. “You spend the night… with Geto?”

Shoko doesn’t even blink. “In his spare room, yeah,” and Utahime visibly deflates. “Suguru’s like my brother, Uta—don’t be gross.”

Your conversation comes to a lull just as you hear the familiar sound of Satoru and Suguru’s feet against his carpeted stairway, moments before they come into view at the kitchen doorway.

“You know,” Suguru says, nodding back toward his living room, “we aren’t kids anymore. We don’t need to cluster around the kitchen at parties, we can sit in the den.”

The group files out of the kitchen to relocate to the living room after Suguru’s prompting, but you linger at the back of the pack so you can finally greet him for the first time this evening.

You step onto your toes to help reach as you wrap your arms around his neck. Suguru places two warm palms against your lower back and pulls you into him until your bodies are flush. He holds you there for a beat with his face pressed into your neck.

Suguru’s chest expands as he takes a long breath, drinking you in and pressing you tighter against him. “Thank you—all of you—for being here today.”

“I haven’t spent Christmas Eve without you since we first met,” you say. “Why would I start now?”

“Thank you for encouraging me to host this tonight. It feels like old times.”

“I promise Satoru and I will stay off the roof tonight.”

He laughs at that and pulls away, turning his face from you to hide his expression and he steps past you and into the kitchen. “I’ll grab some wine for everyone,” he calls, and you join the group in the living room for some drinks and lively conversation before dinner.

The group of you chat amongst yourself throughout the evening. Reminiscing on stories from when the Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko trio were in high school and their drunken recklessness. Silly stories from a drunken Utahime about Nanami from their honeymoon in beautiful Malaysia. And you and Satoru share the trials and tribulations of trying to buy a home together and all of the mindless open-house viewings you’ve been to.

You feel so grown up with everyone here tonight—nothing like the kid you were when you first met them. The Nanamis are married, Shoko is working on finishing her residency, and you and Satoru are about to become homeowners! It almost feels surreal.

At this age, you thought that you’d already be married and pregnant, so you’re a little behind on your life plans, but oddly enough, it doesn’t bother you. You’re happy with how things are in your life with Satoru and he knows what you want, so you feel no sense of urgency to check off items on your life plan.

Suguru smiles throughout the entire evening—really smiles—and it brings such a feeling of warmth and ease in your chest that you don’t want this night to end.

You keep the drinks flowing. Pouring whiskey into Shoko’s cup before she’s even finished what’s left in her glass and topping up everyone else’s wine, even though the more Utahime drinks, the louder she becomes.

Satoru stays sober along with Nanami, the designated driver. But Satoru acts like he’s drunker than anyone else in the room with all of his hooting and hollering and by the way he eggs on Utahime to yell louder and louder.

Dinner goes by in a drunken blur, but after getting some delicious food into your bellies, the group seems to sober up a bit as they grow drowsy from their gluttony.

Nanami and Utahime sit together on the couch in Suguru’s living room, the same couch they sat in together when they first connected at Satoru’s party all those years ago. Even though there’s plenty of room for them to spread out, Utahime is curled against Nanami’s side with his arm casually thrown over the back of the couch. With his free hand, he helps cradle the wine glass in Utahime’s hand, careful not to let the liquid spill as she sways from side to side on her seat.

Suguru reclines back in his armchair, hands clasped together behind his head painting him the picture of relaxation. Shoko sits on the armrest of his chair, leaning into his shoulder every time she laughs.

You and Satoru sit together on the floor. He’s found a way to curl himself around you completely with his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulders while long, lanky legs trap your body on either side.

Your cheeks are warm from the drinks and the company and they hurt from smiling so much. It’s been so long since all of you have been able to get together like this and you selfishly wish that you could stay in this moment forever.

Utahime leans forward, resting her now-empty wine glass on the coffee table and reaching forward for the bottle. She tries to pour more into her glass and wails when only a drop rolls out.

“We’re out of wine!” she cries. “This is a disaster!”

“I’ll go get more.” You volunteer with a laugh, untangling Satoru’s arms from around your body so you can sit up. He whines in your ear but lets you stand up without a fuss.

“I’ll go with you,” Shoko says before downing what’s left of her drink. Her cheeks are flushed dark red, but otherwise, she seems completely normal. She’s always had a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol. “I need a refill.”

Utahime gasps in childlike delight, reaching her hands out for both of you as her chin wobbles. “I love you—I love you both, so so so so so so so so so—”

“Yikes, now I see why you guys don’t want kids,” Satoru teases, grinning across the room at Nanami.

“—so so so so so so so so—”

“Alright, alright,” Shoko scolds, reaching out with a hand to squeeze Utahime’s cheeks. Her lips purse together into a pucker as she blinks up at Shoko. “We get it—you love us. Thanks a ton.”

“I jus’ wanna make sure you know,” she says, speaking around Shoko’s grip.

Shoko grins as she releases her and Utahime slumps back against Nanami’s side. Utahime turns to look over at Suguru on the armchair and he regards her with a raised brow.

“And I love you, too,” she says, and you can already hear the waver in her voice as she turns to look at Nanami. “And I love you, most of all.”

“Hey, what about me?” Satoru calls, raising a hand.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she yells, keeping her back turned to Satoru.

You and Shoko share a look of amusement before stepping out of the chaos and into the kitchen. She grabs her bottle of whiskey and sets her glass down on the counter as she twists the bottle cap, watching you choose from Suguru’s collection of wine for a replacement bottle.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you two are still going strong.”

You pull a bottle of red from Suguru’s shelf and take a look at the label to make sure it’s not too expensive before uncorking it. “Hmm?” you ask from over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“You and Satoru,” she says. You look up to see her taking a slow sip of her drink, levelling her gaze on your face. “We were all tired of the whole, will-they-won’t-they shtick after all these years, but I never thought you two would ever actually end up together.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. Shoko must be really drunk if she’s saying something like this, you reason. She’s typically positive-to-apathetic about your relationship with Satoru.

“Why would you say that?” You turn to fully face Shoko now, crossing your arms over your chest.

She shrugs noncomittally, suddenly appearing disinterested in the conversation, but you push.

“No, Shoko. What do you mean by that?”

“I just mean that I always thought the two of you were more interested in the chase than you were in each other.”

Shoko doesn’t even seem guilty about her comment.

“The one girl that isn’t immediately enamoured by The Satoru Gojo is the one he’s going to obsess about the most,” she continues. “And Satoru really doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What’s my type?”

“You know,” she gestures vaguely at the other room. “The Nanami-type. The Higuruma-type. The guys that own more suits than casual wear and don’t show emotions on their face.”

“I’m not interested in Nanami,” you say, taken aback. “And things between Higuruma and I didn’t work out.”

“But he broke up with you,” she says, pointing her finger at you. “If he hadn’t, I bet you would’ve married him.”

You start to feel a cold sweat on your back. Shoko is one of Satoru’s best friends—from long before you were ever even in the picture. Unlike your banter with Utahime today, this conversation feels serious—loaded.

You straighten your spine, tilting your chin up to try to feign confidence as your heartbeat pounds against your temples. “Did Satoru say something to you or…? I just don’t understand why you’d bring this up all of a sudden.”

Shoko shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. She looks away from you, into the party in the other room as she rolls the liquid in the mouth. After a thick swallow, she returns her attention to you.

“I just think that you have a really rigid life plan—you always have. House, married, kids… you’ve got it all figured out.” Her face softens, “That’s not a bad thing. I think that’s great that you have those aspirations, but—”

The dreaded but.

“—Satoru is a kid at heart. I know he’s happy playing house with you right now, but when it comes to buying a real house together? Proposing? Kids? I just… I think the two of you need to have a serious conversation about that.”

You think about all of Satoru’s snide comments about kids from today—jokes and mocking comments to Nanami and Utahime. Does he really not share the same desires as you?

You’re shaken up by the conversation, but you feel trapped here. You can’t leave without Nanami and the others, and if you go into the other room and request that everyone leaves, it’s going to draw questions.

So, you try to brush off the unease. Shoko is drunk—she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She doesn’t know what your relationship with Satoru is really like. She’s just making assumptions.

“Thanks,” you say, even though nothing Shoko said to you is deserving of it.

You stay for a few more hours. Until Utahime is falling asleep on Nanami’s shoulder and the group finishes another bottle of wine.

You kiss Suguru goodbye on the cheek and give him an extra tight squeeze when he holds you close. To Shoko, you just offer a chaste brush of your lips against her face and a side hug.

“Another year without the lights,” Suguru comments, tsking as he points up at the sky. It’s a clear night, but you still haven’t seen the fabled northern lights that Satoru and his friends constantly rave about. “Maybe next year.”

Usually, you would quip back with a witty comment—”Maybe we should be looking for them on other days, too”—but your tongue feels dry in your mouth and you’re only able to respond with a forced smile and a nod.

You’re still rattled by your conversation with Shoko as you walk outside with the others. You settle into the backseat with Utahime even though she yells at Satoru for getting shotgun in her own car (“Do you want me to throw up?” Satoru challenges. “Ruin your beautiful upholstery? Get it in your hair and all over your pretty dress?”) and you all buckle in for the ride home as Shoko and Suguru wave at you from the entryway of his house.

The drive is relatively peaceful. Utahime is fighting sleep against your shoulder and Nanami is quiet, as usual. Even Satoru seems tired from tonight’s events, as he’s silent as he sits up front with Nanami.

The warmth of your home feels hollow when you enter. Spending the drive in your head, thinking about what Shoko said, wasn’t the best way to calm your nerves.

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Satoru’s distress until his hands cup around your face, lifting your head to look into his eyes.

“Is everything ok?” His eyes are wide with worry, his face panicked. “You started acting really weird all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?”

Your reflex is to deflect his concerns. Whenever you get moody or upset, it’s rarely Satoru’s fault, but you’re used to him blaming himself for your bad moods. Ever since the fight that you caused at Nanami and Utahime’s wedding—as a result of your own insecurities—Satoru is quick to fall on his sword to keep you from running away from him again.

But right now, he is at fault. At least partially.

“Do you ever talk about me with Suguru and Shoko when I’m not around?”

He frowns. “Uh, sometimes, yeah.”

“Do you ever tell them things that you don’t tell me?”

“Maybe? I don’t know—nothing serious, but maybe like, little stupid things I know you wouldn’t care about—”

“Do you want to have kids, Satoru?”

He jerks back in surprise, blinking down at you. “Uh, woah. That’s quite the left turn—”

“Do you want to get married? Do you even want to buy a house?”

Satoru cocks his head to the side. He stares at you for a beat while his thumbs brush against your cheeks, wiping away the tears that would be there if not for your stubbornness holding them back.

“I want to be with you,” he says.

“Did you tell Shoko that you don’t want those things?”

“I told Shoko that I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” he says. “I’m not sure what I want in life—I don’t think about it the way you do—but I want whatever you want.”

“We talked about it,” you counter, “when you and Suguru were overseas. We talked about it.”

“We talked about you and Higu-what’s-his-face.” Satoru scoffs, leaning back to his full height and waving a hand in the air in dismissal.

You frown and cross your arms over your chest. “But even then, you know what I want, right? I’ve been upfront with you since the beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Kids before thirty.”

“I’m twenty-five, now, Satoru.”

“I know.”

“We don’t have a lot of time left.”

He snorts. “You want us to start trying now? Say less, babe.”

“Satoru, I’m being serious.”

“So am—” he groans, lifting his hands up into his hair and tugging on the strands with his fists. “We’re literally in the process of trying to get a house right now, isn’t this what you want?”

“But is it what you want?!”

“You are what I want!” he insists, growing frustrated. “I’ve always wanted you—from the first time we met and then every day after that. If you want a house—I’ll buy you a house. If you want to get married—let’s get fucking married! And if you want to have kids… if you want kids, then we’ll have kids, ok?”

“Kids aren’t some sort of joke. We’d be bringing a new life into this world.”

“I know that.”

“You can’t just agree to have kids just because I want them. You need to decide for yourself whether or not it’s something you really want or else… or else—”

“Or else you’ll leave me?”

Satoru’s voice is quiet and meek. You’ve been avoiding his gaze throughout the conversation—it’s been too hard to look into those piercing blue eyes while you talk—and now when you look up, you see the worry etched in his face.

“No, I…” you stumble around your words.

“If I decided next year that I don’t want to have kids, would you stay? Is it really that important to you?”

“I—no… it’s not.”

“I won’t leave you if you want to have kids. I’ll be right there with you, raising those brats,” he grins down at you and your shoulders relax. “And if you decide you don’t want them anymore? I’ll be there, too—hanging out with you in our lavish mansion in all of our DINK glory.”

“DINK?”

“Dual income no kids.”

Satoru steps forward, pressing his palms into your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. He wraps his arms around your body once you’re close and his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

“And yes, I’m freaked out at the idea of having kids—but I’m not scared about our future together. I’ll figure it out by the time you’re thirty, don’t worry, and we can have all the little Gojo’s you want.”

Your hands lift to loosely wrap around Satoru’s body and he squeezes you tighter in response. “I just feel like I’ve had all these plans about how I wanted my life to be and I expected you to want them too… but after talking with Shoko today, I’m scared that I’m just forcing you to do what I want.”

“Let’s just get married and then we can figure out the rest later.”

You snort, finally relaxing in his arms and pressing your face into his chest. His hands are cool on your back as they rub small, gentle circles.

“I think you need to propose first before we get married.”

“Ok, I propose we get married.”

You groan and playfully shove him away. He steps back enough to create some distance between the two of you before grabbing your hands and pulling you back into him, this time with your chin pressed against his chest so you can look up at his smiling face.

After all this time, Satoru’s gotten good at calming down your insecurities. You spent most of the latter half of the evening in mental turmoil about the future of your relationship, but Satoru can put you at ease with a few honest words and physical touch.

You love him.

“I’m sorry if my friends said something stupid to you at the party, but let me make it up to you, ok?”

You smile and close your eyes as Satoru leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why does everything with us always have to be so dramatic?”

“You’re forgetting about all of the boring days we have together,” he says, lips curling into a smile against your skin. “Remember yesterday when we had a perfectly normal day? We ate food, watched tv, and then fucked—end of story.”

“Pretty boring story. Nothing like today.”

“Right—today, we’re fucking twice!”

Satoru scoops you up into his arms, lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrap instinctively around his tapered waist while your arms lock around his shoulders, allowing him to carry you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You giggle into his neck while he huffs up the stairs, feigning effort despite the fact that he carries you to bed every night with ease. He walks until he’s right at the foot of the bed and then launches you onto the mattress and out of his grip.

The blankets are soft against your skin as you fall back into them, bouncing slightly from Satoru’s toss. Your eyes rake across his body as he moves his hands to grab the bottom hem of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his head to expose his naked torso.

Satoru throws his hoodie off to the side with a sigh before ruffling the hair on the top of his head. “What do you think?” he hums, reaching down for his belt.

Your mouth waters as you watch the tendons in his hands flex when he pulls at his belt, pulling it from the buckle with a metallic clink! Satoru clicks his tongue for your attention and when your gaze swings up to his face, his brows are raised—expectantly waiting for your response.

“Huh?” you say, dazed.

Satoru laughs. He languidly pulls the belt free from the loops of his jeans before working on the button—then the zipper—before sliding his pants off of his hips and onto a heap on the floor around his feet.

“I said—”

He grabs at the bulge in his briefs, squeezing it with a grunt as he settles his knee onto the mattress near your feet. The bed dips from his weight and you sink in his direction. Your face feels warm and you can already feel your breathing deepen as you watch Satoru’s eyes darken.

“—will you let me take care of you tonight?”

You hum in thought, rolling your head to the side until your cheek rests on your shoulder. Satoru’s long, lithe fingers wrap around your ankle and bring it up to press into his chest. His hands curl around the top of your stocking and pull it down over your foot, exposing your skin the to cool air. He lifts your foot to his face and presses a tender kiss to the arch of your foot.

“So?” he prompts. He brushes his lips across the sole of your foot, moving to the top of your foot to press another soft kiss.

“I dunno, Satoru…” you say, pursing your lips into the corner of your mouth.

He trails his lips up to your ankle, kissing there.

“No?”

Satoru’s hands move up the length of your calf, following his touch with his mouth as he slots your leg over his shoulder. The position has your legs spreading open for him, exposing the lacy panties you have on underneath your dress—the ones that Satoru helped you pick out—until you can feel the cool air against the damp patch on your crotch.

“You don’t want me to—” he presses a kiss to the side of your knee, wet and slow while his gaze stays fixed on your face, “—worship you?”

“I feel like I haven’t been fair to you.”

His brows twitch in intrigue, but he continues his ascent up your leg as he leans in for another kiss to your inner thigh. This time, he teases your skin with his tongue and a small amount of pressure as he sucks on the skin. The action makes you squirm and his eyes light up with delight.

“S’ok.” Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he moves to brush his cheek and nose along your inner thigh. The skin on his face is soft and smooth, adding to the heat and need building between your legs.

Despite your desire to have his face move higher and higher still, you reach down with your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He purrs against your skin, lashes fluttering when you tug on the white strands and pull his head up to face you.

“Let me take care of you tonight, Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

He crawls up the length of your body, keeping your leg over his shoulder as he slots between your open thighs. Your body curls in on itself as he leans forward and the warmth of Satoru’s breath against your cheek when he presses his forehead into yours has your mind swimming.

Satoru nudges your nose with his while his hands move to the bottom hem of your dress. “You wanna take care of me?” he coos.

His hands drag the fabric up your body—up up up—tracing the curves of your body with his palms until he’s pulling your dress over your head and exposing you to him completely. His breath shudders when he looks down at your matching, lacy set.

“Fuck, princess—you can do whatever you want to me.”

You giggle, pressing forward to meet his lips with yours. Satoru returns the kiss with fervour while you adjust the position of your leg, moving it off of his shoulder and wrapping it around his hips. His heart pounds under your palm when you press it against his chest and you use the momentum of your kiss to roll Satoru onto his back with you straddling around his hips.

Satoru’s grinning with excitement when you pull away. He’s flushed pink from his cheeks to his chest and you can feel the firmness of his cock beneath you.

“Take care of me,” he purrs, moving his hands down to your hips to rock you against his length.

This moment feels reminiscent of this morning. The two of you wrapped up in the sheets together, fighting off a sleepy haze as the arousal builds in your gut. You run your fingers down his chest, watching his body shiver with goosebumps in their wake until your fingers curl over the waistband of his underwear.

You shift your position and drag Satoru’s underwear down with you. His cock springs free from the confines of the fabric until it slaps up against his stomach. The tip is flushed red and shiny with precum and it twitches when you move onto your hands and knees between Satoru’s spread thighs.

He tucks both arms behind his head, propping himself up to watch as you grab the base of his cock. You give him a few slow, experimental strokes, and watch as the tip leaks more translucent precum.

Satoru’s breathing is strained—ragged—as his gaze follows your movements. You run your tongue across the seam of your lips as your hand moves the length of his cock toward your mouth.

You start by blowing cool air through pursed lips and watch as Satoru’s abs flex hard in response. He groans when you bring your hand up along his length, thumbing at the spilled precum and smearing it across the soft tip of his cock.

“Put it in your mouth,” he says, voice wavering. “Please, please—I need to see you sucking on it.”

You respond by opening your mouth and letting your tongue hang out. You lean forward, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock and Satoru’s head falls back with a throaty moan.

He flops his gaze forward as you rub your tongue along his length. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, the skin turning white from the pressure as his lids droop. Satoru looks like he’s in a daze as he watches you lick along his cock.

“Come on,” he urges, sitting up on his elbows to get a better look. “You said you weren’t being fair—don’t tease me.”

You grin. “Yeah, ok. Sorry.”

Your free hand comes up to cradle his balls, the weight of them settling perfectly into your palm as you hover your lips over the tip of his cock. Satoru’s chest is heaving with want, hands balled into tight fists against the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

“Please.”

The head of his cock is slippery when you slide it past your lips. When it hits your tongue, you taste that familiar saltiness of skin and precum. Satoru’s jaw falls slack, brows pitching up into his forehead as he watches—mesmerized—as you take him in, inch by thick inch.

Your tongue smooths along the underside of his cock as you bob your head along his length. Your body tries to resist the intrusion as you poke and prod at your tight throat with every movement and drool spills down from the sides of your mouth, over your knuckles, and along the veins of his cock.

Satoru whimpers, his usually bright blue eyes turning hazy from his arousal. “Ohhh, fuck—just like that, holy shit.”

His hips buck up into your mouth, urging himself deeper and deeper and pushing past the tight ring of your throat as you press your nose into the white hairs at his base. Satoru’s thighs twitch when you swallow around his cock before you pull back up to cough for air as thick strings of spit trail between you.

“Please, baby—it feels so good, keep going.”

His hand lifts from the bed to press against the back of your head, guiding you until your lips are wrapped around him again. He moans, keeping light pressure against the back of your head to hold you in place as he fucks up into your face.

“Shit, I wish you could see yourself—my pretty girl with spit all over her chin and my cock down her throat.”

He bites hard around his lower lip as your hand starts to move in tandem with his hips. His cock pulses against your palm as you slide along the shaft and you can feel the pull of his balls towards his body as he gets close.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he whines, cheeks turned completely pink. His stomach flexes hard, twitching as he fights back his orgasm. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to cum in your mouth?”

You hum around the tip of his cock before pulling off of him completely, swatting his hand away from the back of your hand as you rest both hands on his hips.

“No, no, no—” he whimpers, his hips rutting uselessly against the air as his cock slaps against his stomach. “Come back—please, please, please.”

You lean down to press a soft kiss to the underside of his cock before sitting up on your knees. Satoru watches with rapt attention as you climb into his lap, sliding your palms up his torso as you do so until they land on his chest.

He falls back against the mattress with the lightest touch, letting your weight hold him down as you straddle around his hips. Satoru’s hands flex and twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t touch you.

“You wanna ride it?” He asks, breathless.

You don’t answer but lean forward instead. Your chest presses against his and he tilts his face up expectantly, mouth open and breath shuddering. His white lashes flutter against his cheeks when they fall closed and he nudges your nose with his, searching for your lips.

When you finally meet, Satoru’s hands come up at last—one clutching the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist. The kiss is rabid—frenzied—just a blur of lips and tongue and teeth as Satoru’s hips grind against yours.

“I love you,” he says against your lips, “I love you.”

Your hands slide up from between your bodies, ghosting across the ridges of his collarbone, along the length of his neck, until they burrow amongst the strands of his hair. Satoru moans into you when your fingers weave around him, tugging against the hair at its roots.

“Fuck—” he hisses, nipping at your lip with his teeth. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“I know,” you hum, grinning as you pull your lip free from Satoru’s bite.

You sit back up on Satoru’s lap, shifting your hand between your legs to reach for Satoru’s cock. He grunts when you take hold of it and it kicks against your palm—still sensitive, you note.

“Are you going to last, Satoru?” you purr, guiding him until the soft head slides against the mess between your thighs. You ache for him, too.

“Probably not,” he admits, teeth clenched. “Consider it a compliment.”

“That’s ok—”

You lower yourself down and Satoru’s cock presses into you. You both suck in a sharp breath at the feeling, and your body takes over as your hips roll against him.

“—I want you to cum, Satoru.”

He closes his eyes, face twisted in agony as you sink down completely until your hips are flush with his. You’re so wet, you can already see the slick arousal coating the hair at the base of his cock. Satoru twitches inside of you and your body squeezes around him in reaction—he feels so big, so thick, so satisfying.

“Don’t say that or I’m gonna lose it,” he says, voice strained.

You roll your hips up—and then back down again—landing with a wet squelch! in Satoru’s lap as your pussy squeezes and drools around his cock. You moan at the feeling and every nerve in your body seems to come alive, burning from your toes to your fingertips as you rock in his lap.

“Oh shit—” he groans, stomach flexing as his back arches off the mattress, changing the angle of his cock inside of you, and you feel another surge of electricity shoot up your spine, “—fuck, please stop sounding so fucking sexy.”

You bounce in his lap, feeling the slap of his thighs against your ass with every movement and Satoru’s hands shift up to grab your hips. You think he’s going to stop you—hold you flush against him until the tide of his orgasm subsides—but instead, he digs fingers into the meat of your hips and helps guide you along his length.

With Satoru’s help, every bounce has the tip of his cock brushing directly against your sweet spot. Combined with the way Satoru is writhing and fighting back an orgasm beneath you, you feel the telltale surge of your own climax rapidly approaching.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice thick with arousal, “you’re squeezing me so tight—ahh, holy shit, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please,” you beg, feeling the haze creep into your mind as you chase your orgasm. “I want you to cum, Satoru—need it—please, I love you.”

His grip turns painful—blunt nails biting into your skin as Satoru’s body tenses beneath you. He babbles out your name, squirming and whimpering as you feel each pulse of his cock deep inside of you, spilling and filling you with the warmth of his cum.

But you keep going—bouncing in his lap, rolling your hips, grinding your clit against him—as you feel the pressure building in your gut.

Satoru’s whimpers turn into panicked hisses and his squirming to jerky twitches as his cock turns sensitive from the stimulation. He pants beneath you, his chest expanding in collapsing with every deep breath as he moans out.

“Oh, fuck—”

He can hardly speak between each breath. Between each guttural moan as your pussy squeezes around the length of his cock.

“—don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t stop—fuck, it’s—so much—”

His feet kick out behind you, toes curling as his face twists. The mess between your bodies becomes thicker— sticky —from his cum and the slide of your clit against the hair at the base of his cock turns sinful.

His abs tighten when your hands move to rest upon them, using the leverage to bounce harder in his lap.

“Satoru—oh god— I’m gonna cum—”

Satoru can only offer you a strangled whimper in response and you feel the kick of his cock inside you as he cums again.

The feeling of being flooded by his seed has you in a daze. Through sharp, staccato breaths you moan out his name, each syllable punctuated by the squeeze of your pussy as you cum around his cock. You curl forward as your stomach tenses, your body quaking from the tremors of your climax.

Your knees squeeze around Satoru’s hips and his hands lift up. One arm wraps around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—much like before—and he pulls you close into his chest. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and his skin, even hotter. Your chests press against one another for space as you each take heaving breaths until the haze of your arousal finally clears.

Satoru’s cock, soft and soaked, slips from between your thighs when you sit up. His eyelids are heavy, his gaze dreamy, and he’s got a goofy grin painted across his face when you look down at him.

You brush away the sweaty, white strands from his forehead and he crinkles his nose up at you in delight.

“So?” he says, voice still airy and weak. “How’d I do?”

“Not your best work,” you tease.

You swing your leg over his hips and settle into the bed beside him. Your thighs feel sticky and your body is covered in sweat, but you still curl into Satoru and let him pull you into him.

“Liar,” he tsks, nose brushing against your cheek.

You laugh to yourself, burying your face into his chest. “Ok, fine. It was great—amazing, even!—The best lay I ever had.”

Satoru presses a tender kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin, “That better be my name in your phone the next time I check it—The Best Lay I Ever Had.”

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#jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #fem!reader #tiff.fic #gojo #jjk #gojo.fic

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