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fillinforlater · 11 months

Text

Just Testing

Male Reader x Wonyoung, Eunbi, Sakura, Yena, Yuri, Chaewon, Nako, Hitomi, Mina, Nayeon, Gaeul, Rei, Sua, Yoohyeon, Jinsoul, Yeojin, Tiffany, Sooyoung, Winter, Sullyoon, Xiaoting, Miyeon, Yiren, Arin, Seungyeon, Hwasa, IU, Chaeryeong, Somi, Rose (31some)

Length: 31,577 words

FIC STARTS AFTER THE #

FIC IS SPLIT INTO MULTIPLE POSTS

Tags: SQUATTING FACE FUCK + ANAL PRONE BONE, PORN, stupid satire, self-aware smut, seductive, flirting, charming, perfect!you, GAME SHOW, testing mouths, blowjob, sweat, sweat kink, messy sex, sub/dom dynamics, sex in water, double anal (@kaedespicelatte), female orgasms, rough sex, overstimulation, stocking and high heels kink, gaping, terrible jokes, teasing, gagging, breath play, banter, fuck buddies, weird relationship, sex on the ground, temperature play, petite body, hard anal, sex toys, vibrator for overstimulation, elegance, keeping warm, huge tits, tit play, TW: golden shower, water sports, piss kink, couch sex, size kink, dom!idol, edging, threatening, heavy jerking off, blue balled, TW: brat, brat taming, forced deepthroat, cursing, undressing, name calling, degradation, dub-con?, GAME-SHOW-CEPTION, outside sex, public sex, getting caught, rent is due, sex sells, scent kink, slow sex, caring anal, rough face fucking, slut, runny mascara kink, choking, fingering, porn tropes, sex while watching porn, screams, fucking into submission, suddenly missionary, bimbofication, blonde bimbo kink, are you on drugs?, cumshot, cum on tits, cockwarming, sex doll, lube, lube play, fighting, brat breaking, a lot of lube fr, first time, teaching, slow bj, hot and steamy, body worship, abs kink, almost loving, suddenly painting, male overstimulation, death by orgasm?, self-degradation, very loud, break everything, food play, cherries, whipped cream, biting sheets, why did you read all of that???

TW: a lack of editing, cringiness lol and this has all the kinks, SPOILER! Scene 7 has watersports, Scene 29 has foodplay, Scene 11 has heavy degradation, Scene 20 bimbofication, but tbh, read at your own risk lol

Inspiration: my hate relationship with porn and the industry behind it. This has a lot of satirical themes, terrible jokes and allusions to other things/media, especially K-Pop lyrics and song titles. This is also kind of a flex and a tribute to the insane amount of hot people we get to see as fans of this music genre.

Also, I'm a bit insane and like the squatting and prone-position a bit too much.

(A/N: Kaede is already tagged, also @worldsover for Arin and Yena, @writerpeach add Xiaoting and Kkura to the list, @sinswithpleasure Winter, @midnightdancingsol for Jinsoul, @iznsfw for Eunbi, Hitomi and Nako, @capslocked for Miyeon, @praeluxius for Sullyoon and Chaewon, @firagaarmor for Gaeul, @authorsquidward for Wonyoung and Yeojin, @craycr4y, @co-reborn for Mina, @nsfwmaemi for Xiaoting. Sorry, not sorry.)

“So, this is going to be the first take, right? How many do you usually need?”

The stylist combs your hair with her delicate fingers a final time before deeming it perfect. It literally is, clean, black and utterly unleashed. Whatever the producers think fits best for your personality. The show must go on—something like that, as long as you have any hair, you don’t mind what it looks like. Okay, to be fair, even if they would ask you to go bald, you would. This job is just too precious to pass on.

“Oh, I only need one take, darling,” you say and look at the stylist through the crystalline backlit mirror into her crystalline brown eyes. Something tells you that they are usually not this wide open and shocked, call it an instinct if you will, something to pair with one of your three divine strengths:

Irresistible charme.

“Well… if you say so,” she stutters and tugs a strand of her blonde hair behind her cute little ear. She directs her gaze towards the door, but you know she isn’t thinking about leaving, not with the way her hand rests on your shoulder or her tummy cushions the back of your head when you lean backwards to look at her from a different angle.

She is quite pretty, with the tiny moles on her bright skin. One could’ve easily mistaken her with one of the many women you’re about to work with, but apparently she has chosen a different career path. Too bad for you, or her, or the camera. Nothing a couple of perfectly placed words couldn’t change.

“I only say it, because it’s true,” you say with a defensive hand gesture and stand up from the confines of your chair, the same, favorite chair that is following you around the world. “Looks like you’re the same, Miss—”

“Sharon, just Sharon,” she finishes your sentence, the pitch of her voice higher than before as she looks up at you. “B-but what do you mean by, ‘the same’?”

“Oh, it’s because your styling is literally perfect. You don’t have to go for a second take either.” Gently take Sharon’s hand into yours and rub the back of it with your thumb. “Just like me.”

“Y-you’re too kind.”

“Now tell me, Sharon: that’s not your real name, right?”

Sharon shyly looks to the ground. The tip of her feet move closer together and you feel a bit of sweat build up on the tip of her fingers. Oh, the professionalism, it’s slipping away.

“You got me there,” she giggles. “My real name is Mina, I’m from—”

“Japan. I can tell. Your accent is giving it away.”

Now she is melting, either in embarrassment or because of the compliments. Judging from the new color on her cheeks, red like fresh strawberries, and the small smile below her beauty spot, it’s the latter.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Mina, your English is fantastic and your accent is, let’s call it as cute as your face.”

Mina looks up, dreamy, her hands automatically move up to your chest, but if she wants to go further she has to really stretch. Thank the Gods for the other divine feature they have given you:

Incredible height.

195 cm, 6’4’’, wow so big; you better know all the ways to measure you. All of it rolls off your tongue so easily although you don’t have to announce it. It’s obvious, imposing even, yet not impractical. At least it wasn’t, until your Asia Tour started. Most things are a bit too small now, but you won’t complain, no, you’re literally not allowed to. Your contract says so.

“Thank you, Mister,” Mina hums and her nails reach your nape when sudden steps behind the door make her back off with lightning speed. Who dares to block such a nice development?

“Okay, change of plans,” shouts JJ, your manager, agent and favorite pest as he bursts into the dressing room. He is drenched in sweat and about as stressed as usual before any one of your shoots. Time to give him your favorite punishment for coming in so rudely.

“Ah, JJ, good to see you. This is Mina, a wonderful, talented japanese stylist,” you say with a bright grin, knowing how much he hates it when you interrupt him with something so casual, yeah, how dare you be nice when he is literally an impetuous bull.

“Oh, uhm, hello Mrs. Mina,” he stutters, shakes his head, bows, then groans. It’s worth cherishing if you’re honest. “Anyways, we have more important things right now. There have been communication issues and uhm, all of them are here already, so we’ll shoot the scenes ping-pong wise.”

“Hold on, hold on, JJ. You’re saying, all thirty of them are? How could that happen?”

“Well, th-the Koreans thought the second time I sent them was meant as an alternative date, you know, if there are problems or something. Oh, and it’s not thirty. One woman quit at the last minute, she had doubts and a lot of fear.”

“Which is absolutely okay,” you say calmly and look at Mina for a second. She tries to seem occupied, but you know she is staring and listening intently. “If she doesn’t want to, I don’t blame her. We can shoot with twenty-nine and we can shoot them all in one go if we have enough rooms.”

“Yeah,” JJ says with a sigh of relief at your non-violent reaction, which is the norm. “We were able to get some extra rooms. The company really wants this episode and they are willing to make it a two-part special, I was just worried that you couldn’t—”

“What? Handle thirty?” You laugh with a wide charismatic smile, which leaves JJ cold—such a shame that he is completely resistant to you, but it makes him the perfect manager to control if need be—but does a lot of things to Mina. The japanese woman gawks, drools at you from the side. She does not notice that you can see it from the corner of your eye through the backlit mirror.

“Whatever you say,” JJ groans and rolls his eyes. “It’s still only twenty-nine.”

“Unlees,” you say and turn towards Mina, bowing down to be on eye-level with her. “Someone new joins us right now. Would that be possible, JJ?”

“I mean, s-sure. We have some lawyers, contracts, money—oh, wait, you’re not serious, are you?”

“Mina,” you say with a low voice and guide her hand to your chest. “I won’t lie, I saw the way you were looking at me. You have a great face and from what I can see a fantastic body. Allow me to be so incredibly rude and ask you:

“Do you want to join me in this shoot?”

Mina bites her lips and blushes again. From the touch of her fingers you can tell a lot of things. She is not rejecting the idea completely, so there is no spouse or partner in her life, at least none she is loyal to. Mina also works as a stylist for porn artists, so maybe her social circle won’t be too harsh on her. It’s still a difficult step, one she shouldn’t take lightly.

Then again, you’d really like to fuck her today.

“Can I think about it for a bit longer?” she whispers and you immediately nod, much to the dismay of JJ behind you. However, he remains silent. he ha too many fuck-ups today.

“Sure. Go with JJ and talk with the lawyers. They will make sure you’re properly informed, but in the end it’s up to you. The shoot will take quite long, so you can either join in last or—”

Gently knead her hand on your chest and smile at her adorable, unsure, yet needy expression.

“—live a life outside of this crazy industry. Both things will be worth it, my beautiful penguin.”

“Wha—how did you kn—”

“I can tell,” you whisper with a wink and make way for the door, where JJ gives you a bombastic side eye. You ignore him, which is worth a thousand words, but it’s better to keep them down now. Only a couple of minutes, then it’s showtime.

"Director, is everyone in position?" you ask nonchalantly, as if you didn't just open your shirt and stepped out of your white dress pants. As per usual, you can feel them all stare, staff, cameraman, hosts. It makes for an even better feeling when you peel off your briefs to reveal your manhood, the perfect indicator for your final supernatural power of the Gods:

Undrainable stamina.

You present yourself, fully nude, while your co-host walks onto the set. Unlike you, he is dressed in his marine blue suit with a bow tie and dress pants in the same color. He looks expensive, serious, a true professional, which makes you shake your head.

"Come on, man, you're always so stiff and stuck up! Let's give the people a fun show," you say and kindly grin at him. Works like a magic spell. He drops his shoulders and cocks his head back.

"You're right. It's hard to say some of these lines with a straight face anyways. I just worry…"

He pauses and looks at you, down your pecs, chiseled abs, phallus hanging in between your strong legs, then back up again with a blush.

"Don't worry, man," you calmly respond and point towards a door where JJ discusses something with some important looking people. "My manager fucked up today, yet the company still wants the video. In their eyes, it's all a good product, as long as we just do it. The show must go on, so relax, will ya?"

"I-I guess, b-but thirty is so many," he says in fear and looks at the director signaling the last thirty seconds before shooting starts.

"Thirty is not that much. Count them down like seconds, and I promise you, they'll pass by so quickly, you wish we had another thirty."

"Take one, everyone on set!" someone shouts and you feel the adrenaline reach a new peak. The slate falls, the cameras start. Almost perfect silence, but you swear you can hear the neediness in this building. The company really booked the entire floor of a luxurious hotel, combined with the outdoor area. Don't lie, you've seen crazier, but their efforts are still impressive.

"Hello, dear viewers!" your co-host greets the main camera with an eye smile. "Welcome back to Season 3 of our show. Actually, we are already at the second to last episode of this season."

He pouts. It's kinda cute, so you play along and mouth a little 'aww' at the oh-so sad statement.

"I'm your co-host and right next to me is the one and only; the one you are watching for and the only one you need to know."

"Hello World! Hello Asia!" you shout enthusiastically, to the main camera, then to the one that is only focussing on you and your most prized possession. Speaking of which, it's slowly getting hard with increased excitement.

"Good to have you here." Your co-host turns to you and peeks at his cue card for longer than usual. This is where the old script is probably falling apart.

"Thank you for having me," you say and do a couple of silly bowes to the staff. The microphone catches all their gasps and laughs. "I'm really excited for today. I heard it's going to be some sort of special."

"You're right about that one. Today is a double special, combo special about, uhm—"

He stutters, panically shuffling through his cue cards without knowing how he even started his sentence. Poor guy, having a blackout right at the start. In an effort to save him, you improvise and reach for his first card.

"Here, it says 'combo special for Just Testing'. Maaaan, just read it," you say in faked annoyance. Part charisma, part professionalism that can save a take and make the viewer smile—if they haven't skipped to their preferred part yet. Your co-host looks at you gratefully, before slapping his forehead and groaning.

“You’re right, of course! ‘Just Testing’ is going for double today, Twice the testing, twice the fun.”

“And twice the work,” you add, much to the bemusement of the director, who constantly gives you thumb ups. “I’m so ready for it. Can you tell me what I am going to test?”

“So,” he points at the large, black loosely hanging curtain behind you. “There is a long hallway with a lot of rooms behind this curtain. With the help of some beautiful support, you will test all kinds of loungers. We have different kinds of beds, couches, but also more unusual things to lay down on.”

“Oh, nice, I’m going to sleep on them? This will be a relaxing episode then.”

You stretch your arms upwards and fake a yawn, before he slaps them away.

“No, you’re here to work. On each lounger there is one woman lying prone. Your job is to test if having sex with them in this position is comfortable. Give your thoughts while making sure to thoroughly test them.”

“The women or the loungers?”

“The loungers, silly!”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. How many loungers are there?”

The co-host hesitates. He nervously looks to your agent, who shrugs, then to the director who shrugs as well but with more urgency. After a brief pause, the co-host acts like he is counting on his fingers.

“Let’s just say there are a lot,” he finally says. “More than two for sure.”

“More than two?” you respond, cock twitching again, everyone’s pervy eyes notice it. “So why is it called a double-combo-special-episode?”

“Well, we have a different thing you need to test today. On your right, you can find an example. Say hello to Arin!”

Cheers and applause from a parting crowd of staff members. A woman emerges from them. The first thing you notice are her soft-looking, reddish-pinkish lips. They are a bit plumb, perfect for what is to come. Other than that, she is gorgeous. Pale skin and a yellow-beige crop-top contrast the long, wavy hair flowing down her back and shoulders.

“Wow, you look wonderful,” you say with a delighted smile and stretch out your hand for the taking. “Nice to meet you, Arin.”

“Hello, it’s a pleasure,” she says and squeezes your hand. She is sweaty all over, from her pretty face to her arms and hands. The nerves of being the first today, hell, maybe it’s her first adult video shooting ever. You’d surely remember such a pretty face.

“Okay, Arin,” the co-host says. “You know what to do? If you’d please squat down in front of the curtain, thank you.”

Arin gets in between the two of you, her eyes scanning you top to bottom, but then fixating on your cock when she squats down.

“I think I know what’s about to happen,” you whisper and wink at the camera.

“It’s a bit more complex than that. While testing their throats, you need to use your creativity. Find out what they like, what they are best at and what you can teach the viewers while you’re going to town on their mouths. Give comments on everything, sort of like a teacher.”

“Y’all are insane!” you laugh, then nod eagerly. “Alright, I’m down for it. Is there any timer, some goal I need to achieve like in the last episode?”

“Only one rule:” the co-host says as he inches out of the frame. “Enjoy yourself.”

Everything changes with the blink of an eye. From the introduction and stupid banter to the main reason why people spend money on this. No one pays for a fucking box with the title ‘Around the World Season 3 Episode 4 Combo Special Just Testing’ to see you standing there naked. They want to see you do what they can’t: fuck more than a dozen of beautiful women without breaking a sweat and giving perfect remarks. Do your job and give them the addicting rush of awe, envy and lust.

“Arin, are you nervous?” you ask the young woman squatting before you.

“No, not at all,” she responds with a smile that can break every boy’s heart. “I’m very excited though!”

“I’m just asking because your face is quite—let’s call it wet.”

“I-I’m sorry, I-I know I can sweat a lot, it’s…” Arin’s self-aware stutter ends in her averting your gaze. You reach for her head and give her a few pats, while giving your dick a few strokes.

“You’re perfect, no need to be embarrassed.” Put your cock to her lips and Arin sighs. She forms a perfect O and you slowly glide into her. At this point, with you still only half-erect, it’s easy for her to take you. The feeling of getting harder inside such a pretty mouth is only surpassed by really fucking it. You’ll get there eventually, until you’re sick and tired of it.

“Here is the thing,” you casually say, making sure the main camera captures Arin’s face and the small bulge in her cheek. “Some people sweat more than others. In the case of our beautiful Arin, I’d use this as an easy way to make her messy. Look, she has so much hair, so many long strands, and they can easily stick to her face.”

You ruffle Arin’s hair with both of your hands as you slowly pump into the soft cheek. The wavy nutella-colored hair fans out, sticks to Arin’s sweaty shoulders, then her arms and lastly her forehead. You brush aside the rest for now and tell the second camera man to come closer.

“Take a look from my angle. Look at how wonderful this is. To all the guys who think their girl looks beautiful while you’re out with family or in public—try bringing her home afterwards and then do this. That orderly girl, a complete mess. It's awesome.”

Arin’s eyes have locked onto the camera. If this really is her first time, she is a star already, perfect for all kinds of blowjob and face fucking videos. Maybe she is already a pro, then you surely have to try out if she can take you fully. She is still able to handle your growing erection inside her, but now you have to go all out.

“To all the ladies,” you say and position Arin’s head towards the main camera again. “Take a look at how Arin forms her lips. Literally, look at the perfect O when I pull out. That’s the way to get a good grip, to make your man go weak.”

You slowly back off, your cock pops free and Arin gets it. She keeps the shape of her mouth the same way as before. The lipstick makes it look like a circle, mathematical pure, but otherwise very lewd. Trail your fingers along them as some of the staff members give their well-timed ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’. It’s all for the show.

Suddenly, you roughly grab the sides of Arin’s bewildered face and shove your cock hilt deep into her mouth. The O was too tempting, the tension inside your loins too strong, and the gags are too perfect to stop. Arin reaches for your thighs to keep herself steady, while her hair bops and sways, the mess coming more and more to fruition.

“Entering is easy,” you say with your unbroken teaching-voice. “Your boyfriend or husband can penetrate you effortlessly when you keep the O. Arin is a pro at it, but you can learn it too.”

Again, the secondary cameraman scoots closer, films from the level of your hips into Arin’s face. She gags and coughs, drool pools on the underside of your relentlessly pounding dick, which sadly can’t fully enter her, despite your best efforts. At least Arin tears up and makes her face even messier. Her hair is now blocking most of her view as it clings to her forehead and makes for quite the barrier.

Groan when you pull out your long hard-on, let Arin cough and breathe freely. She slobbered up a lot of saliva, most of it spread on your cock, the rest running down her chin. Something about her beady, needy eyes makes you want to fuck her until she is the ultimate mess, chaotically whimpering because she wants it so much, but you will have to pass on that today.

“Good girl, Arin, well down,” you praise her and point to the camera. “Keep looking at the camera and spread your knees a bit apart.”

Arin does as told, though she struggles to stay in her squatting position without falling backwards. You kneel behind her and hold her in place. Just a tap on her knees, and she spreads them until you’re satisfied.

“You’re not wearing anything under those jeans,” you state and put a finger on her crotch. “It’s kind of disappointing, I thought you were a mess down there already.

“Do you want me to make you a mess down there too?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then use your suction-cup-lips, baby,” you whisper and get back into position. This time, you give Arin time to prepare. No surprise attack, let her relish in the feeling of your large phallus blocking off her airflow and disheveling the remaining fragment of her innocence.

Arin licks and sucks, all while humming everytime you don’t force a gag out of her. She is determined in her want for your cock, as much as she can handle, which still isn’t every last inch, but to be fair, she makes up for it. This undeniable passion, even the highest quality camera and best directing cannot capture it.

Most impressive of all however is that Arin remains in her squatting position. She has balance and posture, sure, but maybe it’s her want for you that keeps her stable like this, through potential back pain. Admire her for it by making the last thrusts violently hard, until her jeans are ruined.

“I think we’re done, fuck,” you curse enthusiastically and the camera immediately goes in between Arin’s legs. “What a beautiful mess. You did very well, Arin.”

Circle the denim with your fingers and bite her sore lips. The lipstick has mostly transferred to your cock, an indicator on how much she was missing for the ultimate triumph. But Arin is no deepthroat pro, she excels in other areas.

“This is definitely a way, a way to make things work, to ruin or be ruined,” you croak out, realizing your throat is too dry to continue babbling. Someone hands you a water bottle, you down it quickly. “Sorry for this interruption, Arin, let me tell you that you would pass any test with ease.”

“Th-thank you,” Arin squeaks, her throat not dry, but surely sore. “Glad you li-liked it.”

Kiss her on the cheek.

“A pleasure to meet you, but I have to go now. My bed is calling.”

Cheers from behind you when you pass through the curtain, two cameramen following you, the director and co-host right behind them. A wide, well-lit hallway opens to you. Every door looks open and you can sense the nudity, the lewdness, the sex that emanates from them like a seductive odor. With a gleeful smile you turn to the co-host, who quietly points at the first door to your right.

“Guess we’ll start here—although I cannot see any beds in here. Is this a pool, or what?”

To your surprise, you find the room mostly tiled and flooded with a few centimeters of warm water, perfect to wash your feet and maybe doze for a couple of minutes—which is exactly what a young lady pretends to do in the middle of it all. She lays prone in front of a large bouquet, only wearing a skimpy bikini to hide the private parts of her slender body with surprising curves.

“Hello there, beautiful,” you say cheerfully and kneel next to the dozing woman. “Are you comfortable?”

“Hello,” she responds, a sleepiness and hunger evident in her eyes. “It is amazing. I could stay here all day.”

“Begs the question:” you interject and closely inspect her short, black hair with those meticulously styled bangs. “Is it fun to have sex in here?”

“Should we find out?” she asks and moves her fingers to the string holding her bikini in place. You quickly grab her wrist and guide it back up and at a snail's pace.

“Now, now, young misses. I don’t even know your name, and you already want me to fuck you on these hard tiles? Where are your manners? Maybe you’re still in dreamland. What’s two plus two?”

“Four, I’m not stupid—”

“Six plus six?”

“Twelve. Look I—”

“Eight plus ten?”

“Eighteen—”

“Your plus name?”

“Huh?”

Someone snickers behind the camera set up. Other staff members try to find a spot in the narrow door to watch the spectacle unfold, but no matter how distracting they may be, your professionalism will not falter.

“Oh, uhm sorry,” the girl says, still more puzzled than surprised. “I’m Chaewon, the wannabe mermaid. Sorry for being rude, I got here early and now I’m so relaxed, God, I can’t think straight.”

“Good for you, Chaewon.” You inspect her face, small, sharp jaw, impeccable shape with an adorable nose and the already mentioned bangs that just make it look a bit more perfect. “Stay relaxed then, because I believe it is one of the many perks—

“—of having sex in this water instead of a bed.” Increase the volume of your speech so the viewer knows that they should pay attention if they want to learn something. I mean, who doesn’t watch to learn how to have sex with a doll for a woman in perfect shallow water? That’s what you’re all about.

“Chaewon, should we get started?”

“Sure.”

This time, Chaewon is allowed to undress. She does so lazily, flaunting her body almost accidentally, yet with all the purpose of the world. Firm, mid-sized tits and an even firmer, even bigger butt make for excellent curves on this gorgeous, small woman. After discarding the bikini in the tiny waves of the tiny pool, if you dare call it that, Chaewon lets herself fall back into the prone position, chin barely above the water.

What is not barely above the water is her ass, which she pulls open a bit for you to catch a glance yet not see her glorious hole in all its beauty. She is really on her lowest level, no effort and fucks given.

“Guys,” you sigh and whine. “Only do this with your girl if you are okay with her being not only absolutely passive, but also a little hindrance. Don’t expect her to do anything. You’re the workhorse for today. Ladies, I’d urge you to do exactly what Chaewon does. Add nice smelling flowers and candles, relax and just exist. Don’t even spread your ass for him.”

Chaewon giggles and releases a long, barely audible moan when your fingers dig into the flesh of her butt cheeks and pull them apart.

“Get a camera on there,” you say with dramatic shock. “Quick! Film this perfect, perfect hole. Holy shit, Chaewon, why did I not know of you? You must be such a butt slut.”

“All training~” she chicly says and lazily looks over her shoulder. “But it’s rarely this relaxed.”

Don’t even waste time grinding on the smooth skin of her butt or in between her big cheeks. You immediately insert your tip into the puckered hole and slam down half way. Chaewon moans, satisfied and rests on her crossed arms as if she is getting a massage.

“Hold on, you all see that? I mean, you can’t feel it like I do, but,” you pause and start to slowly fuck Chaewon’s ass, giving her more and more of your length the longer it goes on. “I have never felt something like this. You must be training every day, all day, huh?

“Chaewon, I’m talking to you. You’re also on cam, so please don’t sleep.”

“There is always something inside me,” Chaewon babbles in a cute, dreamy voice. You decide to wake her up by pushing your tip as deep as possible, and it actually works. Chaewon jumps, stretches herself and you lean to her ear. Tug away the straight, black strands so she can hear your most quiet whisper.

“Yes, but it never reaches this deep. Your hole is so loose around me, but my tip feels great. But this won’t do.”

You turn to the camera with a dumbfounded expression, which bemuses the ever chattering and peeking staff members, especially when your cock slips from the not-so-tight confines of Chaewon’s ass.

“We need to change it up,” you say and point to your co-host. “Give me one of our products, I think this bubble-butt-bitch needs more than one thing inside her.”

Chaewon laughs at the joke, innocent at first, but her laughter turns lewd when she eyes the massive dildo the cameraman hands you. With piqued interest, she watches over her shoulders as you align both your shaft and the fake shaft with her loose entrance.

“I think I don’t need to elaborate that this is not the norm. Please only use one of these on your bottom, okay? I’m not liable for damages.”

Finding the right angle is a lot more difficult with this added width, but you’re able to get inside Chaewon. Her ring puts up some resistance at first, yet when she takes a longer breath, you get inside and immediately begin to thrust.

“Ah, fuck,” Chaewon groans happily and lets her upperbody sink into the water again. “This is, this is better than I thought.”

“Yeah, let’s just pretend that this happened from the start,” you giggle. “Chaewon feels pretty tight now. Her ass is warm, just like the water and her backside is almost as pleasing to the eye as her face.”

“Can you tell us more about the ground, what’s it like to have sex here?” the co-host asks from behind the camera, eyes glued to where you double-penetrate Chaewon’s ass.

“Right, that’s why I’m here. Let me be honest, this was not my first thought and I was a bit skeptical. There are a lot of factors that have to be right, otherwise, fuck, otherwise it might not be that pleaseant. Colder water would make her tense up, that’s a no-no. If the tiles below are too coarse, it won’t feel great either; they could also be too slippery, which might sound fun but actually—”

Suddenly a loud, deep groan by Chaewon, followed by quick breaths. You must have found some special spot inside her ass. She starts to tremble, her entire body shaking with pleasure when you continue.

“Sorry about that distraction. All the worries aside, if you set it up perfectly, like here, and have someone who can take it up the ass like Chaewon, it might actually be the best way to fuck someone prone, period. The water makes you feel so clean too, although you are literally—

“—literally cumming from your ass. Isn’t that right, Chaewon~?”

The entire crew stops breathing for a moment. Chaewon starts to whine at your precise, hard thrusts. For the first time, the young woman tenses up. Inaudible screams leave her lips and she cums violently. Her ring has a tight grip on your base, both you and the dildo are stuck in the bottomless pit for the time being.

“Yes, oh God, yes!” Chaewon shouts out, still high on the pleasure. “So good!”

“Solo double-anal; ever had that before?” you ask and brush her wet hair with your wet hand.

“No, but I definitely need it again.”

Chaewon begins to relax and you are able to free yourself. With a bit of regret, you leave the warm water. Would have been nice to stay for longer, especially with such a fascinating specimen, but you need to take your leave. After all, there are still dozens of girls waiting for you.

“Sure. Hit me up. My number is on screen right now.”

“Wha—” the director gasps and quickly proceeds to cover his own mouth.

“Hey, it was just a joke. Anyways, see you later, Chaewon.

“Now, can someone hand me a towel, please? And some water as well, all this water left me thirsty.”

Turn to the camera as people rush to bring you the requested items.

“That’s another tip from me: drink a lot of water. Helps with everything and is literally vital for your survival. I recommend non-carbonated water, the way God intended it to be.

“Now, where is the next room?”

“Right across the hallway,” the co-host says. “We’ll move on in a zig-zag motion from room to room for most of the testing. However, there is a special part which we will film somewhere else.”

“Sounds exciting!”

You dart to the next room, the filming crew barely able to keep up. Shaky footage will either be used for jokes or transitions, so there is value in seeing nothing but a blur of your backside and other surroundings. This time the door is only slightly ajar, yet you still burst in with no care in the world. A woman in front of a mirror jumps, her brush with white polish hitting the floor.

“Jesus, who the—you fucking asshole!” she shouts, anger in her face from being pranked like this. You smirk when you recognize the woman's face. No need to apologize to this long time partner in crime.

“How did you know I was just fucking an asshole, Tiffy?” you ask her with a playful, stupid voice while wrapping your arm around her small waist.

“No, that is literally not what I meant, I said—”

Tiffany shuts up as soon as the first cameraman is in the room and up in her face.

“What did you say, hm? C’mon~ tell the world how you just insulted a friend of yours.”

“We’re not friends, just fuck buddies,” she snarks back and looks down at the floor, stained with polish from the brush she dropped. “Look, you made a mess. These stains won’t ever go away, idiot.”

“Everyone,” you say to the camera, cheerfully ignoring everything Tiffany just talked about. “I think you should know Tiffany. She was on this show already and we had quite a good time with her. She did too, by the way.”

“No,” she whines and pouts. Lift her onto the dresser in front of the mirror. “What are you doing now?”

“I know that you’re here for the face-fucking-testing and I already know what we will do, but first, I really wanna see your pussy again. Is it still so pink and pretty?”

Tiffany blushes hard, it’s one of the things you love most about her features. In photo and porn shooting, she looks fierce, like an impenetrable Domme, a wall of confidence you can’t overcome, but with you around, she’s almost like a virgin.

“D-don’t call it pre-pretty! I-I haven’t shaved,” she stutters, face hidden behind a hand with freshly painted nails.

“But it is so pretty. Let them have a look.”

Spread her legs with both your arms. If Tiffany really wanted her cunt to remain unseen, she could’ve just jumped from the dresser, but instead she plays timid—which seems like a ridiculous farce, because she is not wearing panties beneath her short, tight dress.

“Tiffy, why are you embarrassed? It’s such a cute pussy, and the hair just makes it better.”

“Stop using that name,” Tiffany growls behind gritted teeth. The lens of the camera is now on level with her crotch, while you drag your fingers up her massive thigh to her labia. A quick rub, and Tiffany tenses up, fearing you would notice her arousal—futile. You know her too well, her sweet spots, how mad she is for your cock. Sadly…

“I don’t get to fuck your pussy today, but I think you guys watching are excited to know more about her throat, more precisely hear more about it.”

“You’re such a tease, you could have a-at least given it a lick.”

Tiffany crosses her arms as she gets off of the dresser. The black dress really fits her figure, the color even more so, especially because it’s accompanied by black high-heels and a black overcoat. They all synergies so well, there is no question which color fits Tiffany the best.

“But if I had started eating you, I would not have stopped for at least a couple of hours, and this crew clearly does not have the time for that,” you say with a bit of sas before changing your expression back to something more serious. “Enough with the chit-chat, you know why we’re here?”

“Yes,” Tiffany says, flushed wiped off her face in an instant. “I hope I can hold this position for long enough. Squatting is tense.”

“If I were you, I’d worry more about if you’re able to hold your breath for long enough. We both know your gags are loud, violent and one of the most arousing sounds in the world, so—

“How about I shut up and you show them how deepthroating is done, Tiffany.”

“Bring it on,” she says and opens her mouth. You lay your cockhead on her idle tongue, knowing that it will not be idle later, when it does its deadly dance. It must be said that Tiffany is a pro at almost everything, yet her ability to suck cock is quite underrated amongst your peers. You told them back then that it would make for a great show and today, you’re about to show them.

Adjust your footing, while Tiffany adjusts her posture and tilts her head slightly back. Her lips open up more, letting your length glide into her already watering hole. Tiffany is great at knowing the perfect pace of your first entry, how to go above her limits, how to take you whole.

You look down at her, but she is focused, not interested in any more shenanigans, only interested in showing off her skills. A first gag, loud and imposing, then her jaw opens fully. Nothing is holding you back, and when Tiffany’s tongue starts to tease the underside of your cock, you know she is ready to be fucking loud.

With both hands you begin to fuck her head onto your rod. Bursts of saliva shoot out on the sides of Tiffany’s mouth, but no one can pick up their slooches. Chokes and gags fill the hotel room, fill the microphones and soon the homes of many adults wondering: Is she going to be fine?

Probably.

In tandem with your hands, which start to entangle with the brunette's hair, you add the occasional hard hip thrust, which forces Tiffany’s nose to meet your crotch and your balls to be drenched in drool which she chokes up and slobbers through puckered lips. The gags inside her throat start to sound like rapid gunfire, and in your own delirious state of mind, you need to check if Tiffany can still handle it.

Probably?

Her eyes roll back to her head from time to time, but everytime they return, she looks more and more dazed. The rest of her body is starting to reject you, but you can’t pull out yet. There is something so satisfying about not having to explain things. The people can just watch and hear and then judge if they like it or not. Maybe you should add a disclaimer that not everyone is so in control of their gag reflex.

“This—this is gold, heaven really,” you groan and reluctantly give Tiffany time to breathe while your cock remains at her lips. She sucks cool air into her mouth, probably purposefully. You hiss at the difference in temperature. Tiffany chuckles in between her final chokes and squeezes your cock in torturous strokes.

“Tell them, big boy, tell them how special I am.”

“Shit, let go of my dick first. You can’t tear it off and expect us to stay friends.”

Tiffany grins triumphantly. She kneads you with both her hands now and has the audacity to lean back a little. Your cock is misused as a rope to hold onto, and your mind goes haywire at the double pain, which somehow makes it feel great.

“Less whining, more praising~” Tiffany says and you speak your mind quickly and freely. Get those words out fast, or she’ll really make you a couple of inches shorter.

“Hng, okay, okay. Reminder for everyone: Tiffany, fuck, Tiffany is very fucking good at this. If you ever intend to try this at home, remember, you ain’t no Tiffany. Things could get really messy.”

“Thank. You.”

Tiffany lets go of your manhood and falls backwards on the carpet. Her chest heaves, otherwise she remains motionless, a cocky grin on her face. It makes you raise your eyebrows and curse a bit. Why didn’t you continue? If she’s this calm already, you could have fucked her throat a bit longer. Make it sore, until she can only communicate with sign language for a couple of days.

“Next time, I’ll do it harder.”

You return the cocky grin and leave the room, everyone but the two of you confused and speechless. Finally, the co-host steps up and shouts his question behind you.

“What is your business with her? Did something happen in the past?”

“Ah, you know, it’s just our dynamic. Your behavior depends on whoever you meet, where you meet them, what your mood is, what the occasion is—it’s the same for me too. The last time I had a shoot with Tiffany was months ago, and afterwards I kinda ignored her. Then we met at a random party, had a good chat, a couple drinks and next thing I know, she pins me to the wall and sucks me off.

“I swear to God, I thought she was going to kill me, suck my soul out, stuff like that. She was pretty pissed I ignored her, which I didn’t really get so you know—fight and stuff; people have conflicts, it happens.”

As you tell the story, even the last stylist and technician flock around you. They form a cage to watch naked-you spill the tea, like it was any of their business. Not that you care, it’s all fabricated anyways, but they surely believe it. The editor will have a great time blurring them all out, especially those smart enough to get behind you, right in its focus.

“Uhm, what is happening?” you ask dumbfounded and watch the director from the corner of your eye. He is furious, pointing out to staff members to get out of your way. Swear to God, there is never a shoot where things go smoothly. Luckily, you can just smile, smile, smile it away and disappear behind the door with nothing but a single cameraman.

“Hi, nice to see you again,” a girl greets you with her arms wide open to hug you. You need a second to remember the face. It’s been a while since you’ve worked with her.

“Rose, how pleasant to find you in this—okay, what the hell is this room?”

Black stained glass tiles on the floor and white stained ones on the ceiling, that’s it. No furniture, no carpet, no lamp, no nothing. Large windows let in enough light to make filming possible, but you doubt that this room is meant to be filmed in.

“I was confused too at first,” Rose says, pulling down the straps of her thin dress and revealing to you her small breasts. “Apparently they want you to test me on the ground.”

“Oh, I see. So everything on the ground?” you ask the cameraman and he makes a nodding motion with the large device. “Whose idea was this? I’m sorry, Rose, I think you deserve better than this.”

“Ah, it’s fine,” she says with a kind smile while stepping out of her dress. Hands on her hips she reassures you: “Really, trust me. I think it will be an interesting experience.”

“Hm,” you hum and reach for one of her nipples, small and stiff and apparently very sensitive, because Rose mewls at the simplest touch on them. “Do you like this?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then how about we make good use of the coldness of the glass,” you lean down to Rose’s chest and lick all over Rose’s tiny tits. “and let your cute tits rub all over them?”

“Ha, yes, anything you like,” Rose moans, delighted, her thin legs shivering.

“Perfect. Get on the ground, please.”

While lying prone, Rose’s very slender frame shines even more than when she stands upright. The only outlier are her hips, which have surprising width and are the first thing you get a hold of. Rose adjusts herself on the cold, sleek surface, lifting up her butt so you can enter her easily. In an agonizingly slow push, you start to fill her cute little ass with your way-too-big cock. Rose shimmies underneath you, nipples gliding over the tiles and making her breathless.

“Pl-please, b-be careful. F-feels bi-bi—g—ood.”

Rose’s cute plea halts your inner desire to ravish her tight hole. Only gently, you start to move in and out, never enough to get you closer to orgasm, but the way she squeezes down on you makes up for it.

“You are very, very tight Rose. Is the ground too cold?”

“I-it’s fine,” she whimpers. “It feels good on my chest.”

“That’s something,” you sigh and stare at the camera in annoyance. Where the hell is the director? Whose idea was this? Back when you read the script, ‘Rose - On The Ground’ sounded a lot better in theory. You expected a carpet or at least a warmer surface, but now Rose is grinding on the floor and—actually tightening?

“Oh fuck, Rose, I don’t remember you being this tight. Looks like the glass has some benefits.”

“Ha, hng,” Rose moans and interrupts her own sentence. “Ju-just my boobs, ni-nipples feel so good. Please, don’t stop!”

“As long as you’re enjoying yourself, I guess I can live with you being a cocksleeve,” you laugh, then hiss at Rose starting to move on her own, her butt creeping up and swallowing your entire dick. “Fellas, I think in some rare cases, fucking on the cold, hard ground isn’t too bad, shit.”

It’s too early, you can’t cum yet. Put a hand in between Rose’s legs, feel her smooth thighs, warm and wet unlike the floor, until you reach the source of her heat. In circles, you rub over her labia and Rose begins to fidget and gasp. In a lucky swoop, you find her clit and place it in between two of your fingers. You can only play with it for so long, Rose is already close and without warning, she cums on your hand. Luckily, you were able to pull out in time, or else her ass would have sucked out your life-sparking liquid like a hungry vampire.

“That was,” you turn to the camera, out of breath from your last second escape. “better than I want to admit. I’m angry and satisfied at the same time. Everyone, I’m sorry, but I can’t really rate this. Try it if you feel frisky, but maybe, you should just fuck in bed.

“You on the other hand were amazing, Rose. High five?”

But Rosie is already dozy and has fallen into a deep slumber. Right, you remember her being like this after strong orgasms. One moment she is screaming in bliss, the next she snores like a married spouse of twenty years. At least she fell to the side, so you take the chance to look at her breasts again. So small, yet so sensitive and overwhelming. Put a mental reminder up that you will have to suck on them one day.

“Okay, so why did no one come with me in this room?” you irritatedly ask both the director and co-host. They look at each other and shrug, a scripter writer beside them points at one of the many scripts, but from this far out it’s impossible to recognize any letters. You stretch your back and sigh.

“Ah, fuck it. Let’s just move onto the next. Maybe you can give me an intro this time?”

“S-sure,” your co-host responds, shuffling cards while trotting at the edge of the screen. “Next up we have Miss Xiaoting from China. If you like the squatting pose, she will probably be your favorite today. Make sure to awe at the way she—”

There she is—and he is damn right. Xiaoting squats in front of a light pink wall, her short dress in wrinkles, large gloves the same. She watches you enter with a small smile, then starts to pose as if hundreds of cameras were clicking to capture every quantum of her beauty.

“Hello,” you slowly say to the woman down before you.

“Hello,” she gently responds, peeking up at you.

“You look very elegant, Xiaoting.”

“I know.”

She drags a finger along her thigh and over her knees which not only sit neatly side by side, but also fold in such a gorgeous way that you would want to drag your tongue all over them and feel the stretched, spotless skin.

“Do you also know what I like to do with elegant women?” you ask, expecting her to either play dumb or be dumb.

“I do, actually,” she responds with wit, her small smile now a smirk. “If you would take my hands, kind Sir?”

Intrigued by the Chinese girl, you offer her your hands. Xiaoting takes them with her cotton gloves to remain steady while her angled legs start to part and reveal what’s beneath the short dress. Panties, of course, but they are not the normal kind. Very skimpy, already wet with what can only be her pussy juice. Then you take a closer look.

“Is that a vibrator?”

“You are right, Sir. It’s the biggest that I have. One push on the button on the top of it, and it will steadily increase its speed.”

Xiaoting looks up and whispers in what can only be described as the lewdest kind of mind control known to man.

“Time to make this elegant woman become a needy bitch, hm?”

Reach down to where the sun does not shine and find the plastic device embedded in soaked panties. In the meantime, Xiaoting reaches for your cock, to keep herself upright on those thin, fragile heels of hers. Unlike Tiffany, she grabs it with care and awe, but you would prefer her bare hands to the

fluffy, dry cotton. Luckily, you don’t have to ask: Xiaoting wraps her lips around your tip with grace and gratitude as the vibrator in her cunt begins to purr.

“Ha, thank you,” she moans and kisses all over your dick with excellent elegance, fitting for her. “Keep pace with it, pretty please?”

“I’d love to,” you husk and stroke her straight hair, which smells fresh and would make for a great masturbation aid—but who needs hair when you can go straight for her pretty mouth?

A slow thrust into Xiaoting’s slobbering mess of a mouth. She has yet to react to the vibrator in her cunt, even the first audible increase in its intensity gets ignored. Give her a harder thrust this time, to the point she has to gag. Xiaoting tenses up and looks up at you, making your heart rate go up with a single glance.

“Fuck, something about your expression is just perfect. Always flaunting your beauty, always waiting for someone to stuff your holes. I can’t wait for the vibrator to make you tremble.”

Xiaoting releases your cock with a pop and gives it a couple of quick pumps.

“Me neither. Damn, I wish there were two of you.”

“This, ladies, tell your partner this, and he will give you twice the effort. He might not have two dicks, but he will fuck you like he has. And don’t feel shy, ask him about bringing toys to your playtime. You will see why in a second.”

Xiaoting puts you back to her lips and opens wide, greedy yet gracious, a paradox fateful to her character. She will do great in the adult video scene. She could shoot the same porno over and over again and people would still be attracted to her, and would still indulge in what she brings to the table.

Especially when she starts to twitch.

At first, it’s just her pussy. The third level of speed from the vibrator finally makes her cunt milk it, desperate for more movement along her slick walls. From there, the twitching creeps up her torso and down her legs, making her wide hips tremble ever so slightly and removing the first bits of stability from her beautiful, confident feet.

“See? Focus on her legs,” you tell the cameraman. “It has begun. God, to see your thighs tremble while getting your pussy pounded is probably worthy of a painting. Sadly, I’m a terrible painter, so the only thing I can provide is a couple of videos.”

“Yesh, pleash,” Xiaoting bubbles through the blockade in her mouth and you take this as an indirect call to fuck her face harder. She appreciates it by whimpering and showing the increasing giddiness in her head through glassy eyes.

“I think you all know—,” you speak up like the professor in one of his many lectures. “—that if she speaks while you go down her throat, you need to go harder or faster or both. Make her shut up. Obvious lesson, but here is how you can still communicate. Girls, pay attention.

“Xiaoting, please pinch my thigh if I go too rough, okay?”

Xiaoting nods, but could never have expected the onslaught of pumps and the reckless depth your manhood finds in her throat. Her eyes jump wide in shock, then fear of suffocation. Violent gags and she immediately pinches your thigh. You halt and pull out.

“Sorry about that. Are you okay?” you murmur with slight concern.

“I-I’m fi—oh, fu—y-yeah, I’m fine.”

Xiaoting can barely get words out. She might not be suffocated anymore, however another stuffed hole starts to get violated and it resonates throughout her entire frame, no body part is safe from the trembling, especially not her vocal cords.

“Oh, sounds like we are up to level four. Just listen to her moan, everyone.”

Both camera and microphone move closer to the action. They capture Xiaoting’s eyes flooded with tears, shaking, her lips covered in drool, shaking and then her hand still on your leg, shaking, of course. Her moans will be played on repeat for so many people and they’ll imagine her huffing on your balls, licking on your shaft and lapping up your pre-cum. Oh fuck, it’s a bit early for that.

“Damn, you are so good at that,” you whisper below the volume of Xiaoting’s moans and the vibrator in her pussy. You’d love to see it go crazy, maybe wiggle it a bit side to side, up and down to get her over the edge. No, you cannot get distracted, she will get to her orgasm soon enough. You should experience it while plugged into her mouth.

“Come on, Xiaoting. Let yourself fall, lose all this fake, nonsense elegance. Let yourself fall, on the ground and cum, cum on the fake cock in your pussy and I promise…

“One day, I’ll stuff it myself.”

Push past her lips, drown out her response in gags. The sides of her head in the palm of your hands feel so natural, the gratification of smearing your precum to the back of her throat so deserved. Yes, you work your butt off for this shit, you deal with dumb managers and even dumber directors, who give orders like they have either never seen a porno or too many. There is never a session where things go without a mistake.

All the bullshit is forgotten when you take a step back, watch your cock spring from Xiaoting’s tender lips and she begins to squirt. Level five, the strongest setting, has her spasming, droplets flying everywhere, streams running down her thighs. You predicted she would fall over, but somehow Xiaoting remains in her position, even as the orgasm rocks her body.

“Fuck, too much, too much, ah~!”

The Chinese woman throws her head back and reaches in between her legs. She jerks the vibrator a couple of times, extending her orgasm and leaving you hard as a rock in the air, dangerously close to your own arrival. But you cannot go out like this, it would be a stain on your legacy and the freshly cleaned carpet.

“You are amazing, Xiao,” you cheer for her as she gets down from her high and pulls out the vibrator. “Oh my, it’s bigger than I thought.”

“Th-thanks, i-it’s the biggest I’ve ever taken.”

“I know what I would rate this experience, easily the highest grades, so I’m interested in how you liked it.”

Xiaoting pouts and thinks. There is a hidden cute side to her, something you’d like to show to your parents when you invite her over for the first time. They would be thrilled and don’t have to know that she can look so desperately slutty.

“I’d give it a nine out of ten, but only because—,” she smirks and stares at your rigid erection. “—next time, I need to squat on you.”

“I think we can arrange that.” You wink. “See you later, Xiao!”

Xiaoting blushes at her new nickname and waves you goodbye. Everyone waddles out of her room, you on the forefront, heart rate decreasing at a much slower pace. Some of these girls try to get in there, but you can’t let yourself get fooled. Be the actor and act, don’t think too much of it has basically become your mantra ever since the girls you worked with have gotten prettier, clingier, more loving.

Nothing is gained by falling for them, so you reach for another bottle of water and take a large sip. You need to cool off a little bit, which is a huge badge of honor for Xiaoting and her visuals, but she will never hear it. One of the staff brings you a coat, and for a second you are utterly lost to why in the hell she would do that. Then you remember the next scene and that you are still on cam.

“Oh, thank you. Dammit, they know what you need. I can feel the cold from the room coming already. Are you going to put me into a freezer or something?”

Put the large coat over your shoulders and loosely close it at the front. This is where your impressive size comes in handy. Your entire body might be wrapped into it, but the coat can’t cover the last couple of inches of your cock.

You dramatically over act the cold when you enter the next room. It has neither a bed nor a couch, so the woman is once again laying on the ground.

“Guys, not again! Look at her, she must be freezing.”

“Quick!” the woman says with urgency as she turns her head towards you. “You should wrap yourself in something warm and I have just the right place.”

The woman spreads the cheeks of her denim-covered butt to show you a small opening placed right where you assume her asshole is. Her short black hair reminds you of Chaewon, but unlike Chaewon, she is putting in the effort to take you. She is even unbuttoning her shirt in this quite chilly room.

“Stop that,” you try to reason, yet can’t help but walk closer and look at her cleavage. “You, you might catch a cold.”

“We will both catch a cold if you don’t act quickly,” she whines and presents her ass again. “Put it in and we’ll both be warm.”

You can’t say no to that, she sounds very reasonable after all. Pull your coat open and lay down on top of her, your cockhead feeling the denim of her jeans, the cotton of her shirt, you have to adjust yourself some more until you find the hole. You poke one of her voluptuous cheeks, which makes her hiss in excitement.

“Can I lay down on top of you?” you whisper into her ear. “I think we’ll be even warmer then, Mrs—”

“Eunbi,” she responds, a bit annoyed that you’re keeping her waiting. “Do whatever you want, just put it in already.”

“I’d be my pleasure.”

Quite literally, it is. Eunbi’s puckered hole puts more resistance than you would have imagined, certainly more than Chaewon’s did. The reward however astonishes you. Her insides are hot and soft, wrapping around your rod like a cozy blanket on a cold winter night.

“Show them your face, Eunbi,” you groan and get a hold of her chin. Guide her face towards the lens of the camera, which hovers right in front of Eunbi’s stunning features. The tiny string of drool hanging from the tip of her luscious lower lip flips her visual from adorable and kind to lewd and needy. Eunbi is not satisfied with your slow half-pumps into her ass. Time to change that.

“Oh, fu—y-you feel so warm,” she moans, her hole stretched by your twitching phallus gliding in and out. A second camera behind you films the action between your legs. At this point in your career, you are able to ignore it, to just go to town on her while feeling more of Eunbi’s hot body.

“You too, Eunbi. I think there is something we can show them to make them feel warmer as well.”

Eunbi smirks and pushes herself up with both arms while you still cling to her back and keep yourself deep inside her rectum. With a hand creeping up her stomach—damn, you can feel her amazing muscles—you finally find and open the last couple of buttons of her shirt to free what would warm any straight man’s heart.

Eunbi’s massive, perky, bare tits.

“Take a look at them,” you say with awe and Eunbi giggles. “So big, so soft and so warm. If you have breasts like this, you can both give and get the warmth you need to make this session fun.”

You begin to massage one of Eunbi’s breasts and she throws her head back to the point where you can see her face. She smiles at you, rosy cheeks, tired eyes and a bone structure to die for. Her hair, the color of dark chocolate, hangs down and bops with every new thrust you give her warm ass.

“How is that? Do you like it?” you ask and smile back.

“I just wanted to ask the same thing,” she giggles, but then you force a drawn out moan from her when you roll her nipples in between your fingers. “It-it feels good, fuck.”

“That’s nice to hear, because I feel the same. You are literal heat, Eunbi. I’d have not problem fucking you outside, even at night.��

Press your lips on her cheek and before she can return the peck you rail her harder, onto the cold floor, both her melons in eager hands. Attack her sensitive spots, watch and feel how the heat from inside her radiates, making even the director sweat. Eunbi herself tries to wring something out of you, so you have to stop her ass from slamming backwards by pinning it to the floor.

The added stretch to her cheeks combined with a pinch to her nipples makes Eunbi lose it. In a deep groan, her entire body tenses up one final time, before she cums rather quietly, only whimpering at your final set of thrusts. Her upper body sinks back to the floor and you make sure to tug her tits behind the shirt again.

“Don’t catch a cold, okay?” you whisper into her ear and pat her head.

“I won’t,” she reassures. “Why didn’t you fill me with your warm cum? It would have made so much sense!”

“Sorry, darling, the script says otherwise.”

Hopefully the sound crew did not pick that up. You have to sell the illusion at least, the illusion that this is all happening at random, off script, as if no one gave you the list of women beforehand, as if no one told you what to do with them and how they like it, as if none of this is completely fake. Well, even if you fail to be illusive at times, the editors can just cut it out. No need to worry.

You and Eunbi get up from the floor simultaneously, bodies still close to each other. Suddenly, she wraps an arm around her nape and pulls you down into a kiss. That one is off script, not planned, but with her following reasoning it might stay in the final cut.

“I think this will keep us both warm~”

“You are right about that. I’ll hopefully see you again?”

“Whenever you like, big boy. Have fun, bye~”

On your way across the hallway, you suddenly stop and curl your finger towards your co-host.

“I think it’s time that you say the line,” you tell him with a serious expression as he steps over the wires into the frame.

“Oh, I see you have something planned. Well, everyone, I’d like to remind you that not everything on this show will be to everyone’s liking. Feel free to skip forward, thank you.”

‘But what about their suspension of disbelief’ you once argued with the show runners, but they blocked you off.

‘It has to be this way, what once started cannot be undone. We also need him to be in the frame at least a couple of times,’ all bullshit reasons in your opinion. It’s the way it is, can’t really do anything about it.

The camera is right behind you again, it films you opening the door and finding a familiar woman leaning against a black wall, phone in her delicately manicured hand, skirt too short for public, but just right for filming. Her silver high-heels clack when she wordlessly approaches you and pins her straight, blonde hair behind an ear.

“If I knew I’d be filming with you, I would have worn something nicer,” she husks with lust, her hands pressed flat on your chest.

“What are you talking about, Miyeon, you look fucking amazing!” you counter her words and put an arm around her small waist. “Turn to the camera, sweetheart. I think everyone would agree.”

Like the superstar model she could have been, Miyeon poses, gaze arrogant, as if to say that no one is worthy of being in the same room or breathing the same molecules as her. With these looks she could have made millions by just wearing clothes. You’re glad she chose a different career path, one that she calls ‘a lot more exciting.’

“What are we going to do today?” Miyeon asks. “I hope you don’t bore me.”

“Has Just Testing ever been boring?” you laugh out loud, but Miyeon looks unimpressed.

“Yeah, but I have had my face fucked countless times. On my knees, in heels, while upside down—go a bit crazy for me, boy!”

“Oh, so you’re down for anything new?”

“Yes, please!”

Miyeon gets into position, hands resting on her thighs expectantly. You brush her hair back to get an uninterrupted path to her mouth. Not your first time she has you on her lips, but back then it was just for a quick cumshot. The rest of the time you railed her against the wall. She also wore heels and the wall was black as well. The set-designers went with some nostalgia it seems.

“Open up, my pretty little bitch, and rub across my stomach. I promise I’ll give you something you never had.”

Miyeon does as told. It has the effect you had hoped for. The soft phalanxes of her fingers slowly moving across your skin put more pressure to your filled bladder. The hunt for an orgasm gets pushed back by the impending feeling of having to release yourself. It has been there for a while now, but it has not been this overwhelming.

“Good job, such a pro at it,” you praise Miyeon, then turn to the camera. “For those of you who want to try it, man, woman, whatever, you have to follow a simple rule: Drink lots of water. It’s healthy, filling and won’t stay inside of you as long as calories do.”

“Why are you talking about this?” Miyeon groans in annoyance, lazily licking your cockhead, not attempting to put it past her lips.

“You will find out soon enough. Keep your mouth open though.”

“You just want me to shut up, don’t you?”

“I don’t want you to miss what’s coming, Miyeon.”

“We already filmed a cumshot scene, idiot.”

The script could not have timed it more perfectly. The moment you wanted to release coincides with the moment you can’t hold it in anymore. With a roaring gasp, you reach for your cock to point it perfectly at Miyeon’s perfect face and unleash a strong stream of clear piss.

Miyeon almost falls backwards from her squatting posture, but after her initial shock she keeps herself steady. Like a good girl, she keeps her mouth open and catches most of your gushing piss in it. The rest covers her face fully, streams down her neck or drips directly onto her slightly bloated white crop-top.

Miyeon throws her head back when she swallows, letting you shower her in the gradually fading stream of clear liquid. Piss splashes on her thighs, feet, her skirt gets drenched when she parts her legs. You swing your cock around at the end to get rid of the last droplets, which rain onto her golden hair and for some reason make her moan in ecstasy.

“Oh God, what was that? I knew you would not disappoint me.”

“Everything for you, Miyeon.”

“I think I can throw these away now.”

Miyeon smirks when she gets up. A pull at her button and her skirt falls to the floor on its own. God, how you’d love to fuck her shaven slit right here, right now, with her covered in your release, marked as yours. Like so many things, it has to wait.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask and raise an eyebrow at the blonde girl starting to finger herself. “I have places to be.”

“I just want to get you ready again. Look, you can’t fuck someone being this soft!”

Fingers, covered in Miyeon’s pussy juice, wrap around you. Her full strokes have always been top level, barely outmatched by anyone. She is so good at jerking men off, there are videos of her doing just that and setting speed records. They are called Awesome Cum Done Quick and should be an embarrassment for all the record holders. Then again, they had Miyeon fucking the winner, so he certainly had the happiest twenty-three seconds of his life.

Keep your act together and squeeze her wrist when you are fully hard again. No need to get on any spot of that leaderboard. Miyeon sighs in disappointment but lets you go.

“Thank you. Fuck me again, will ya?”

“Sure,” you groan in fake annoyance and leave with a smile. This should be about the time that the people skipping your last scene will join back in. You neither want to keep them nor your cock waiting. Jump into the next scene without warning and the small woman lying atop an old, worn out couch shrieks.

“Ah, what the—you scared me!”

“Sorry, I just wanted to test you—I mean the couch—I mean… I’m just testing.”

That one was unintentional, an off script joke that the actress has to deal with now. She seems to be unfazed, watching back to you over her shoulder, her forehead in many wrinkles of doubt.

“Oh, you better do it thoroughly then. I can’t fucking stand being scared like that,” she responds and wiggles her cute butt up in the air.

“Sure, but can I get your name first?”

“Jieun,” she sternly replies.

“Nice to meet you Jieun. How tall are you?”

“How dare you—”

Muffle Jieun’s rage with your lips on hers. A spell that simply works, at least in porn. The woman calms down, her defense falls until she is yearning for more, dragging out the make-out session. Now is the perfect time to pull down her thin, tight shorts to where her socks start and knead one of her buttocks.

“You are such an asshole,” Jieun murmurs into the kiss and you look at her wide open eyes full of need. Suddenly, you push your middle finger into her butthole and feel her clench around it. Her eyes fall shut as she hisses and you quickly bite her lower lip.

“Say that again?” you tease while getting in position behind her. Jieun remains silent, her mouth pressed to the side of the small couch to keep herself silent when you enter, but it’s no use. She screams manically at your first push. And at your second. At the third she falters, trembles and surrenders herself into the cushions of the couch.

“Some of you might think that I hate fucking on these couches,” you say to the camera. “But I really don't. Some of them get thrown away too early. You can still have sex on them. Stains don’t need to bother you, their bagginess is great and even if they seem a bit small, you can still make it work.

“Just watch.”

Jieun has this tendency to push her ass up. Call it defiance, maybe it’s the way she likes it, but either way you have to deal with it. If you want to feel the couch below you and want to rank it properly, you will have to slam down hard into Jieun—and with glee, you do.

Hammer your cock into her, crash into the leather surface, yet she still bounces her ass up like a bouncy ball. It’s kinda like dribbling a basketball, just a lot more fun. Jieun is your cheerleader, her ‘hmph’s’ and ‘ah’s’ a motivating chant with how she repeats them on every single dribble of yours.

“You got such a nice little ass,” you groan into Jieun’s ear while the camera is focused on filming the penetration from behind. “I bet you were envious of girls with bigger asses, so you started to flaunt yours. But then some guys asked if they could fuck it. You were hesitant at first, but after the first thrust, you already loved it. That’s why you keep pushing your butt up.

“Isn’t that right, Jieun. I bet you cum hard from just anal.”

“Ah, I—I, hng!”

Jieun starts to gush. Her knees give out and you finally feel her stay flat on the cushions. Time to give this couch a proper review while Jieun is still weak and shaking from her orgasm. You intentionally dig your legs and fingers into the smooth leather curves, partially stained by sweat and Jieun’s arousal.

“This couch in particular might not be premium,” you elaborate, interrupted by Jieun’s hard panting. “But even though it’s small and slippery, you can still use it to your full advantage. Bend her over the back, make her sit on you, hell, Doggystyle will be great no matter how big you are. I’d recommend not going for 69 or missionary, unless she is as small as our Jieun here.”

You end your review with a chuckle, expecting Jieun to snark back or at least flip you off. From what you’ve heard she reacts pretty harshly to being called small, so it’s surprising to see no reaction apart from her butt still swaying side to side.

Get down to her face again, a gentle hand on her red buttocks. Jieun’s gorgeous, gorgeous face is mixed with emotions. Shock, bliss, anger, desperation, the list goes on with each scrunch of her tiny nose and flicker of her eyelashes. For some reason, it makes you feel bad.

“Hey, sorry if I went too far.”

“I’d call you good, because you are, but really—”

Jieun flicks your forehead, her middle finger leaving a red mark as you hiss.

“—fuck off. Don’t call me little!”

Fuck off you do. The door to the second to last room opens automatically. Inside you find the color of love and passion spread across the floor and up the walls. On shelfs and beds spread across the room you find toys usually used in BDSM sessions, everything from whips to gags to large dildos. You’re glad they spiced up the layout. Only red would have been boring.

“To the wall,” a voice suddenly commands from behind you.

“Oh, I see how it is,” you exclaim, voice oozing with joy, but the other person is not having it.

“To the wall, and hands above your head,” she repeats, this time pinching your side with rather pointy nails.

“Ouch, okay, okay, no need to get aggressive, young-lady-who-tries-to-sound- hard-with-a-soft-voice,” you babble, leaning back to the nearest wall and stretching your arms when suddenly, two hands stroke your cock.

“Shut it,” a tiny woman—really, even compared to Jieun she is tiny—in an extravagant dress snarks. She starts to twist both her hands in a corkscrew motion, one clockwise, the other counter-clockwise. Your cock feels grinded, violated and so you shout a quick apology.

“Ah, fuck, okay, I’m so-sorry. Please, s-stop.”

“No. You will suffer.

“And if you cum, I’ll kill you.”

She squats before you, her miniscule frame elevated lightly by the tall heels she wears. Otherwise, her mouth might not reach your dick properly. Speaking of which, she still has it twisted and you whimpering. To make matters worse, her hands are nothing compared to your size, so your swollen tip is still exposed, wide open to attacks from her wide open mouth.

Okay, maybe matters aren’t worse, she is quite talented at swirling her tongue over your sensitive slit while bathing you in her hot breath. She is a dragon, strangulating its victim to death and giving it a first feeling of what hell feels like.

“Pl-please, have mercy,” you wail, then side-eye the camera filming down from your shoulder. “I-If your man says this, ladies, your d-doing a good job.”

Suddenly, the twisting stops. Your tortured cock longs for something cold to ease the pain of its contorted skin. The mercy is short lived however. Her thumb and middle-finger form a seal around your base, like a cockring. Warm drool runs down from your tip in what feels like cruel streams of lava. It burns, you wince.

“Wh-what’s your—”

“Shut it, no words.”

Stubborn, unapproachable, she is a wall you cannot climb. You can only gawk in awe when she begins to jerk up and down in the same rhythm her mouth bops up and down. The pistons to a machine, well-oiled with her own saliva, it’s purpose: to make you cum. It’s a loud machine too, moaning, whimpering, stuttering.

Grit your teeth. Try not to think about the sweet release, your cum shooting right into her mouth. God, she would hate you for this sudden defiance, an insult and betrayal of the highest order. But she is too good and knows when to quicken the pace of her hands or press her lips down just below your cockhead. You are so close to losing it, and as you slowly glide down the wall, you have to announce it.

“N-no, fuck, I’m so clo—”

“Don’t,” she shouts and stops all her movement. The ring of her fingers squeezes down and you watch your cock stand swollen and throbbing, ready to do it—she does not allow it. You feel your orgasm vanish before it can properly hit you.

She looks pleased with your expression, with the tears in your eyes, with the fact that she has you blue-balled. Her job here is done, she lets go of your cock and with another stinging pinch, this time to your thigh, she kills your resolve. ‘Get out, you piece of shit,’ her eyes tell and you flee to someone who can salvage what's left of your lust.

“Th-this was insane,” you scream and run to the next door, through the next door. “What in the hell are you doing to me? This show is crazy. Girls, don’t do this to your husband without his agreement, he might just have a heart attack. This shit hurts, oh my God!”

“Now, now,” your co-host says calmly. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Well… uh…

“It was, let’s say, something new. But now I really need something to get me going again.”

Scan the room side to side. It looks like a furniture store, the olive green and dark oak brown giving off cozy vibes. Amidst all the decorative furniture, you find something, rather someone, who clearly doesn’t fit the color scheme. She is wearing an oversized, yellow sleeveless top, which even covers her butt, and her bright, white-blonde hair sticks out like a candle in the dark night. With her lying prone on a brand new, excessively large couch, one might assume that she is sleeping. It’s all an act of course.

Scoot over to her and tap her cheek. You have to tap it a couple of times, like an old button to make her brown orbs appear. They are so perfectly round, perfectly big, you could get lost in them.

“Hello, how was your sleep, beautiful?”

“I didn’t sleep,” she responds, her voice deep and sexy.

“Well, this definitely sounds like your morning voice.”

“Actually,” she responds and pulls up the sleeveless top to just above her wide hips and firm butt. “I’ve been waiting for you. I bet you don’t care about the couch and just want to test me out.”

“Actually,” you whisper, mimicking her deep voice with your own husky tone. “I’m only here for business reasons. It’s just testing the couch, nothing more.”

“Such a tease,” she complains when you press down your shaft on her back entrance. “You—ah, fuck—you can just tell me that I am hot.”

“All I know is that your ass is hot, damn,” you groan up into the air. There is happiness over yet another tight hole to fuck, but also a considerable amount of leftover pain from your cock getting treated like the prey of an anaconda. This mixture of feelings makes for a surreal experience where you find yourself holding back from pouding this young woman senseless because you couldn’t handle it.

“Ts,” she hisses. “You s-s-slide into me, not ask-ing for my name, and then you don’t even do your jo-job, ah!”

“I’d call this couch an inferior bed,” you suddenly say to the camera, making sure the slut below you is stimulated enough to not interrupt you. “It does not have the charme as the old ones and it lacks character. You would need to fuck on it a couple of times to give the right vibe, you know? Other than that, it’s comfy and big, so if you need space, while fucking each other—I’d still recommend a bed, to be honest.

“I also recommend you telling me your name, so I can deliberately not moan it.”

Bunch the blonde waves up and pull them back, not to hurt her, but to let her know that she was the one you were talking about. With tears in her eyes and a pained smile between her pink cheeks, she turns to look at you.

“Y-you’re so mean. What if I ju-just want to be loved?”

“Then you came to the wrong place, whore. I’m all about couches, really.”

“D-damn, that sucks. I’m Jinsoul by the way.”

“That was the weirdest time for you to tell me your name, you know that?”

Jinsoul murmurs and tries to avoid your eyes, but you force her head to stay close to yours. Something about her acted stupidity, paired with that illegally hot voice makes you want to ravish her more. There is nothing to be said about this couch, it’s mid and that’s it, but Jinsoul is quite intriguing. Unfortunately, the scene is not supposed to play out in a way that would reveal more about her.

You can change that however. Who would stop you? The director with his raging boner, too occupied to look at the footage that you've already filmed? Certainly not. Thus you take matters into your own hands.

"So you want to be loved, Jinsoul? Appreciated, admired, cared for? Why should I? I've had sex with countless porn stars; you'd have to make a pretty good case for yourself."

Stop your thrusts to let Jinsoul think, adapt to the changed style of the scene, to not make things awkward for the viewers or you. With an elegant flip, she sends her hair flying and presents to you her side profile.

"Have you ever seen a jaw this sharp?" she asks expectantly. "I'm sure it can cut itself into your heart."

You can't hide your amusement at Jinsoul's shenanigans and give her slow, deep thrusts that press her abdomen deep into the fabric. She moans happily when you nuzzle close to her, cheek to cheek. It'd be somewhat romantic if it weren't for the large 4k cam right in your face.

"You're a whole package, I'll give you that," you praise the woman below you. "Don't compare yourself all the time though. It can really harm your self-worth."

"Oh, now you're saying sweet words. I don't have to compare myself, I'm just that good, thank you very much."

"I think you love yourself enough, no need to inflate your ego more."

Hanging out with Jinsoul must be a fun time, she is very chill, can take a joke and has her own kind of humor. It just gets better when you have skinship with her. Let the viewers’ imagination play out the fuck buddies to lovers story with her, you’re just an insert.

Jinsoul clenches her butthole with excellent timing. The jolts of your pelvis onto her buttocks are met with firm resistance which urges you to go a tad bit faster until she clenches less and just lets her normal tightness do the job of giving you both pleasure.

For her this pleasure ends in a loud climax, not because she is a screamer, but because her pussy squirts hot liquid like a geyser. She has marked the couch, it's hers now. The smell won't go away, which you would definitely appreciate as her boyfriend. Jinsoul smells of sex, of playfulness, of want, always willing to go for another round.

You'd gladly go again with her, but you have to pull out. That's the only thing that consistently happens, apart from the annoying switching of rooms which appears to have ended. Jinsoul's room was the last one on this floor.

Next to it is a wall with a mirror which spans from the marble tiles to the ceiling and across the entire length of the floor. You curiously inspect it.

“I have to be honest, but I haven’t even noticed this until now. Putting this mirror here is a brilliant idea, it tricks you into thinking the corridor is twice the actual length. Anyways, I’m not here to test mirrors now, am I?”

“No,” someone responds in a frisky, feisty voice and you turn your head to look at her. “You’re here to film with me.”

The director, the staff members, basically everyone but the one cameraman who has been filming you this entire time stayed in Jinsoul’s room, so it’s obvious who said it. You would have noticed her anyways, even among a crowd of hundreds she sticks out. Long, slim legs that seem to never end have her high above most women you’ve met during your Asia Tour. Add to those legs a body wrapped in a luxurious black suit and an equally luxurious face plus the most expensive MiuMiu handbag on the market, and you got yourself a princess.

“Nice to meet you, Wonyoung,” you grin down at her. “It’s a pleasure to finally film something with you.”

“Likewise,” she reciprocates with a disinterested, skeptical smile, before looking down to your crotch. “Though I have to admit… I thought you would wear, well, something different—anything!”

“Now, now, no time for drama. I thought you knew about Just Testing.”

“Yeah,” she taps the tip of her white high-boots on the floor in slight annoyance. “but I also thought that you’d make an exception, because, you know, I’m here today.”

The implicitness in her tone leaves you stunned. She is demanding of people she has never met before, and it’s a natural thing for her. For her, the concept of rudeness seems to only apply to others—she is Wonyoung after all, she deserves everything. This attitude must have been in the making for quite some time, otherwise she wouldn’t have killed with it in her three debut videos, all high quality, all with guys whimpering and cumming all over themselves.

Begs the question if her manager told her that you are different from them.

“Oh,” you say surprised and scratch your chin in exaggerated wonder. “So you think that I would dress up right after shooting with, let’s see, ten different women, who couldn’t care less about clothing while we—”

“Are you done?” Wonyoung interrupts, her voice firm and more than slightly annoyed now. She crosses her arms and the handbag slides from her shoulder down to the crook of her elbow. Something about this posture empowers not only her bitchy attitude, but also your desire to, let’s say change it.

“Why should I be done?” you ask and mimic her posture, though you could never do it with such confident indignation.

“You think too much, you talk too much. I’d rather have my male colleagues be quiet.”

Like the arrows fired by a skilled archer, your arms find Wonyoung’s slender frame, more accurately, her pits, and you lift her up easily. Enough with her looking down at you when she is literally twenty centimeters smaller. Enough with her inflated ego when she is literally the skinniest woman you’ve seen today. Enough with her spoiled-princess attitude when she is literally begging for your ruining rod—well, she isn’t yet, but you can change that.

“What the fuck are you—hey!”

Turn to the mirror and press her against it. Wonyoung flails and kicks around with her high boots, but she is too high up to reach the ground. Make sure to keep her on exactly this level—below your eyes and above the ground. She is hovering in an uncomfortable limbo and by being so splendidly light, you can keep her there all day long.

“Should I answer your question?” you snark at her livid face. “Or would that be ‘talking too much’?”

“You pathetic, pathetic little creature!” Wonyoung barks back and slams her fists onto your biceps repeatedly. “You have nothing on me—”

“Oh, Wony, you have no idea. This is not school or college where you can bully the smaller girls and get away with it because of your looks. This is also not your debut video, where you get what you want. No. This time, I am the bully.

“Now strip.”

Silence, except for the cameraman scooting around you, filming the enthralling scene with his keen eye for detail. Getting Wonyoung’s face on tape while she scrunches is an easy task, but showing your erect cock poking her abdomen in the same frame is true craftsmanship.

“How dare yo—”

“Strip, Wony.”

“Don’t call me tha—”

“Then beg. Beg me to put you down again and I’ll call you by your full name, bitchy-princess.”

Wonyoung fights back, harder than before, but her punches are still laughable and her kicks don’t land where she wants them to land. To make her situation even more desperate, you press yourself against her, putting an end to her efforts. The only thing that can free her are those dreadful words that would poison her prideful character.

“Fuck you,” she mouths. “How the hell am I supposed to strip like this?”

“What? You think just because you’re suspended in the air you can’t open the buttons on your suit? I never thought you were this stupid, Wony.”

Though totally unwilling, Wonyoung starts to get the tips of her long fingers to her buttons and pop them open to reveal a plain shirt underneath. After short hesitation and an exasperated eye roll, she goes for the second rows of buttons, opening them slower and slower until she almost stops.

“Go on,” you say and pin her harder to the mirror. “Or do you need help?”

“Ts, you would ne—”

Wonyoung doesn’t blink in the time it takes you to drop her down and tear open the rest of her shirt. A black lace bra hides her small tits, and it’s your turn to roll your eyes. There was no need to wear this many layers for a fucking porno shoot. Oh well, at least you can show Wonyoung and the viewers, who might have skipped the rest to just watch this scene that you’re still the protagonist of this show.

Pull at the bra and somewhere the fabric is unable to resist you. Wonyoung stumbles forward and you let her drop to the floor, straight into the crouching position intended for her. The opened suit and the tatters of her shirt slide down her shoulders, her hands fail to pull them back together to hide her pale collarbone.

"Why are you so timid now?" you ask and let your fingers run through her hair. "Was all this bitchy attitude fake?"

Up to this point, Wonyoung has been consistent and predictable in her character, as you'd expect from a talented yet experienced rising star. So it really takes you by surprise when she suddenly switches things up and goes off script. She rids herself off the remaining clothes and uses her sudden nudity as a flashbang: too busy gawking at her stunning, slim and slutty frame, you can't stop her from wrapping her lips around your dick.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Making you beg. Consider it a deserved punishment."

First your butt, then your entire back firmly falls against the cold surface of the mirror. Wonyoung's tongue not only twirls around your tip, it also makes your head twirl. Your mind shortly spins, spins towards losing control, until you regain control with a rough pull at Wonyoung’s hair. Entangle it more while she cries in pain and has to back off.

“Ouch, fuck, fuck! It hurts, stop!” she screams and fights back the tears in her eyes.

“I said that this is not your debut,” you growl in anger and hit her shivering lips with your rod. “You don’t control anything, and if you don’t start acting like it, I’ll force you to.”

Force her, you do. In a single push you break past her puckered lips, into the depths of her mouth and against the barrier in her throat. Wonyoung flails as she panics, but you just pull her hair harder and begin to rhythmically fuck her face. Her small chin takes slaps from your full balls; after all, you need to make sure that she adjusts to every last inch of your cock. It also feels great to know that this young slut finally gets pulled off of her high horse, and what better way to do it then drag your nuts over her messy face.

“N-no, my-my mascara!” Wonyoung whimpers, but you only need to pull her jaw down a bit to see her tongue flop out and drool on the floor. Fuck her face again for a couple thrusts more so that the camera can catch her throat bulging and gags escaping.

“You want to fix it?” you ask sarcastically and yank her head to the mirror. “Good thing that we have a mirror right here.”

Wonyoung cries more, the way you’ve ruined her make-up unbearable for her to look at. Instead of looking away however, she continues to stare at herself. She becomes passive, an observer to what you do to her body. The slaps of your cock on her increasingly glossy lips and puffy face don’t affect her, the hair pulling is nothing but a hot visual and the way she deepthroats you makes her pussy twitch.

“I don’t think you need fixing,” you groan while you poke the inside of her cheek with more gentle thrusts. You join her and the camera by inspecting her top to bottom, from dazed orbs across a small chest to her white boots. Wonyoung has started to spread her legs, hence the incredible view of her prominent abs and tight-looking pussy.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Smash Wonyoung’s head down on your phallus. The unexpected vigor makes her lose her footing. She falls to her knees, but you continue to slam her down, make her gawk on you. Wonyoung has resigned herself to your heartless, reckless use of her throat and gags mindlessly. Like a fleshlight you jerk her onto you with one thing in mind: a quick climax.

You have already filmed so much content, had many asses or faces to fuck and maybe fill, but it is only now that you want to finish quickly. The bickering with Wonyoung has been long enough. She has somewhat learned her place, and you want to make sure it sticks in her mind, so you got to give her something sticky.

The edging session by the nameless girl from before has you hesitant for long enough that you don’t cum deep in Wonyoung’s throat, but in her mouth. Sperm shoots out of you, fills her feisty cheeks and then oozes through the tiny gaps on each side of your cock. Wonyoung is crazy enough to suck some of it in, so you pull out to make her an absolute mess. An avalanche of pearly white runs down her chin and chest, down to her navel. It doesn’t happen in one go, but two, three, four spurts while Wonyoung struggles to swallow and instead gurgles it up.

“You disgusting whore.”

“I-I did not—fuck, there’s s-so much of it.”

“Welcome to being a cum slut, Wony. Next time, I’ll make sure that your cunt looks just like your mouth right now. Fits you better than the bitchy-princess-thing you’re trying to pull.”

You clean your cock by rubbing it over her forehead. Wonyoung’s entire being is frozen, no response, no emotions, no attempts to clean up. Is it still acting at this point? Who knows, it fits what you were going for in this scene. Although you’d really like to hear her thoughts (and maybe get her number), you don’t have time right now. The other cameraman is already filming you walking down the marble hallway, while the co-host walks up to you with applause.

"Bravo! This must be a new record. In such little time you have tested one, two three, four, five, six, seven—"

"Eleven," you interrupt him. "Eleven sessions of testing."

"Which is amazing, but are you up for the challenge and ready to continue right now?" He looks at you expectantly, but you just walk past him with determination.

"It seems that you don’t know me. Of course I’m ready.”

“Splendid. Please follow me outside and listen closely because we will spice things up a bit.” You follow him closely through the familiar dressing room and then an inconspicuous door you haven’t noticed during your preparations. “Are you familiar with our Role Playing Game?”

“The game where you give a prompt and I have to adapt my behavior to it?”

“Exactly. I need you to be focused, because we will play four rapid fire rounds,” he says, the last doorknob firmly in his hand. “Right behind this metal door, is the outside. Don’t worry, we have guaranteed privacy—”

“Dammit—I mean…”

That one was for the show, though you have to admit that public sex with the possibility of someone catching you and either getting extremely flustered, angry or aroused is a huge turn-on for you. But these companies always make sure to rent private property, hidden gardens or those fake buses for the shootings. No one will even sniff a hint of the juices your going to fuck out of the women on the next view sets.

“Well then, too bad for you,” the co-host brings you back from your dreams and starts to read from his cue card. “Here is the first prompt: Never having played golf before.

“And action!”

Push through the door and get greeted by the bright, warm rays of sunlight beaming from above. Beneath your bare toes, the cold marble from before pales in comparison to the soft grass you now walk on. It’s not any kind of grass either; it’s the light green grass of a tiny golf course, complete with starting spot, sand bunker and putting green. On said putting green lies a woman in a green and white golfing outfit, surrounded by a colorful palette of golf balls. She holds a golfing club upside down in one hand, the other suddenly points at you.

“You there!” she shouts. “Come here, I need your help.”

“How can I help you, Miss…”

“I’m Sooyoung and I have a confession to make: I have no idea how to play golf, but I’d really like to try.”

“Well,” you say awkwardly and scratch the back of your head. “I only know the basics of golf, so I might not be a big help, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sooyoung cheerfully smiles, fitting for her pretty features. “We’ll find out together. I believe you are a big help already. Tell me what you know.”

“I think golf is about putting something into a hole,” you claim and then claim the position behind Sooyoung.

“Hm, there is a hole right here,” Sooyoung notes as she gathers the balls around her in sweeping motions of her arm and then hastily rolls them into the deep golfing hole. “But it’s already stuffed.”

“Well, here is a hole that is not yet stuffed.” Pull up the hem of Sooyoung’s skirt and spread her cheeks to reveal a puckered, clenching entrance. “Maybe this is the correct one.”

“You should go first. You’re the sexper—I mean expert on gol-f-ing.”

Sooyoung has a special place in your heart already. Her lines on paper were underwhelming, but the way she casually rolls them off of her tongue has you enjoying things until now. Her initial moans only increase the respect you have for her, as they sound more like someone being in awe because they're seeing their favorite sport for the first time than someone getting her ass penetrated. Her experience in acting shows.

“Oh damn,” she giggles. “So this is golfing. I-I think I have to get used to it first.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised too. I did not know the hole would actually keep it inside. I thought you could just pull out and play again.”

“Maybe noobs have to live with only playing one round~”

What a perfect tease, you can’t deny that. Not bitchy and demanding, more a challenge to spur you on and get the best out of you. Sooyoung is somewhat like a coach that fires you up—what fires you up further is her tight asshole relaxing, getting ready for a couple more rounds.

“Well, I think I have to repeatedly train to go from noob to a respectable amateur,” you groan and start to move your hips up and down in a pistoning motion.

“Yes, yes! L-let’s train together to have more fun at golfing.”

Sooyoung gradually sways her ass thus you poke all over her insides. She finds a spot that she likes your cock to violate and pulls her cheeks apart to announce it. Something about ‘a bigger hole makes playing easier’ was in the script, but the two of you are too caught up in pleasure to add it here. That does not mean that Sooyoung has given up on playing her role yet.

“Oh yes! I-I think you just got a hole-in-one!”

“That do-does… is… not on par with my golf knowledge.”

Sooyoung digs her teeth into her lip to not laugh, not cum at exactly this moment. Unfortunately for her, you have different plans and drill your cock a faster than she was able to handle before. The woman below you rocks back and forth on the grass, both sets of lips leaking. It’s a last second orgasm for her because—

“Round 1 is over” the co-host mouths barely in your field of view. You pull your cock out of Sooyoung’s ass and don’t fight the urge to give her cheeks tiny slaps with your cock. After that, the crew is already urging you to move away from the golfing course. Your co-host points to a spot behind what is supposed to look like the hidden corner of a school yard with hedge-like bushes, construction fences and trash baskets.

“The second prompt,” the co-host shouts from behind the cameras. “A sexual agreement, gone wrong!”

Get into character. Hide behind the bushes and look for anyone who might pass by. Every movement, may it be just a gust of wind, makes you jump. You’re on your toes, ready to run away if one of the professors passes by. Luckily, you don’t have to wait any longer.

“Sorry,” a girl dressed in tight, rebellious attire, a short red skirt and a cropped varsity jacket whimpers in between huffs and puffs. Her take on the local school uniform must leave every professor speechless and enraged. “I got scolded by the math prof and she just didn’t stop.”

“Jeez, at least try to sneak here,” you scold here while putting a construction fence next to the wall as an extra barrier. “What if someone saw you. Gaeul, I swear to God, these bitches have a bad influence on you,”

“Oh, and you don’t, huh?” Gaeul crosses her arms. “And don’t call them bitches, okay? Yujin and Liz are my friends!”

“They are tyrants and only see you as a minion to do their stuff. How many times have you gotten in trouble for them?” Gaeul stays silent, looking at you angrily, though there is a hint of longing in her eyes. “See, I told you they were no good.”

“You’re no good either. Look what we’re about to do.”

“But it was your idea, Gaeul. I didn’t ask you to eat your pussy after classes.”

Gaeul rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue at your words. A faint blush on her cheeks however betrays her. You have no doubt that she is greedy to get your tongue inside her. You love her for this confidence and you despise that she always gets away with it.

“So? Will you finally eat me, pretty please?” Gaeul tries to imitate the shy virgin she surely isn’t and you’ve had it with her antics. Watch her put a finger into her short hair, it’s color the same as the hazelnuts underneath your toes, and curl the hair playfully. You want to do the same.

“Nah, I’m actually pretty pissed,” you tell her and step closer. “So how about we play rock, paper, scissors. One round, whoever loses has to pleasure the other first.”

“You mean to tell me that I have to suck you off?”

“Can’t be that weird to you, considering what we do so often—or are you scared to get caught with cock in your pretty little mouth?”

“N-no, of course not,” Gauel stutters and pulls the finger out of her messy hair. “I’ll win anyways.”

A tense face off, both contestants have their fists stretched from their body. As the rhythmic saying starts, they both swing their arms side to side rapidly until the final word reaches its final syllable and the two hands explode into their respective symbols—that’s probably how a commentator would describe the match.

Gaeul has two of her fingers spread apart to show scissors. You on the other hand kept your fist compacted in a solid block. Your rock smashes Gaeul’s unstable scissors, though she tries to stab you with them by going to town on your chest.

“You. Fucking. Bastard.”

“Calm down, I’ll eat you out afterwards. Now stop being a sore loser and get down.”

Make sure she can only keep eye contact while starring skywards. The height difference is incredible, Gaeul can’t help but gulp. But maybe that gulp was because she puts her hand under your cock and cannot imagine it fitting inside her mouth.

“F-fine.”

Gaeul hesitantly squats down, gives you a glance that speaks volumes to how much she just wants to get licked and tongue fucked. She puts a lot on the line for your wet muscles entering her cunty-cave and wiggling inside it. She might not look forward to a big career after college life is over, but she still has a strong sense of honor and cares for her public perception. Getting caught like this is a substantial risk.

Gaeul slowly opens her mouth, your cock resting on her lower lip. Deep breaths widen and narrow her nostrils, her hands don’t know what to hold onto. In your bedroom, she is not this cautious and her pace is far from that of a fucking snail, so you get a hold of her head and push her onto your rod.

“My God, Gaeul,” you groan, finally not the dry air, but gentle wetness around your tip. “You’re getting on my nerves. Do it on your own, or you can forget about the agreement.”

Your hands get swatted away and in rage, Gaeul bops her head up and down over the first third of your cock. This is much more to your liking, similar to how fast she does it while you’re sitting on your bed. If she continues and you get a sweet release, she certainly qualifies for passionate nibbles around her clit, while you do everything in your power to make her drown you in sweet girl-cum.

God, Gaeul tastes so damn sweet, you could talk about it all day every day, but at this moment, your mind is too occupied with focusing on her taking more inches with slower bops. Gaeul gurgles and spits, a sudden gust of wind forces goosebumps all over your skin. Coldness on your cock, then the warm mouth, is she planning this?

“Fuck, this is good,” you coo and try to pat Gaeul’s beautiful short hair, but she stares you down, her gaze a great threat, although you don’t know what she could actually do to you. You’re a lot taller, stronger, calculated—but she has her teeth very close to your cock. Makes you think.

“Excuse me, hello? What are you doing there?”

Oh fuck, someone found you. You peek over the hedge and see a professor of almost equal height look right back at you. He approaches the hedge from the other side with this cliche look of an angry, unstable teacher approaching what they assume is students breaking rules—and you’re not only breaking petty rules, but also damn laws.

Gaeul has a natural reaction and hopes to quickly get you out of her mouth and try to look as innocent as possible, which is absolutely futile because you're fully naked and you actually reach for the back of her head. ‘What are you fucking doing?’ her eyes scream when you shove her back down until the professor reaches the construction fence.

“You kids these days think you’re allowed to do anything, huh?”

He frantically shakes the metal beams as your legs copy their motions, but before you can cream into Gaeul’s still sloppily licking mouth, you have to abort everything. Get out of Gaeul, out of the unveiled hideout, out of the scene.

“The third prompt,” the co-host announces in something resembling euphoria as he pulls your arm to a camping van. “Trying to sell a van in only one minute!”

There is no time to breathe, it all has to happen fast. To switch from one character to the other might be well-prepared, but you can never underestimate how hard it actually is. Turn to the camera, treat it like a person you’re trying to convince, like you’re selling them a motorized vehicle, not the illusion that is this video.

“This van is our flagship product. It comes in two colors: black and silver, but I’m sure you do not care about the exterior. Height, width and weight are all in the manual that you will get later on. The real gem of this model is inside it. Please follow me.”

Step up a tiny ladder into the van’s cozy interior, with a tiny kitchen area in the back, an even smaller toilet room in the back and a mattress that basically fills out the rest. No one would be convinced that this design is sensical or practical at all, if it wasn’t for the naked woman lying on top of the mattress.

“This van has got everything, but I’m sure you have heard this phrase everywhere, so I will tell you why exactly our product is superior. If you travel the world as two or three or maybe even four, you have enough space to sleep on and do other activities, like this.”

You climb up on the bed and give Hwasa’s fat ass a couple of rubs before you find her familiar hole and drill yourself inside. You know from previous sessions with her that anal makes her hum for some reason and that these hums suddenly turn to deep, deadly groans, which could either scare the customer off or attract them even more. Anyways, you don’t have time, so speed up.

“No matter how hard you like to do it, no matter—oh fuck—how loud you are, no one will hear you. Imagine being alone in the woods, loving the sun, nature, life itself—and then fucking your brains out like rabbits. You get what I mean? Isn’t this feeling worth so much?”

For the camera, you’re begging the customer for money. In your head, you’re begging for Hwasa’s butthole to not squeeze you too tightly. She wrings out so many men, has them cum all over her smooth, sun-kissed skin, but for you she is extra tight. At this point you might be stuck, and you’re not talking about what’s next in the script.

Your hands move to Hwasa’s shoulder, pin her down while you jackhammer her hole deep, widen it with the entire circumference of your dick to the point the van starts to vibrate throughout. Suddenly, the camera slowly backs off. You should give the customer a final catchphrase to make sure they’ll call back soon to get the van and all its features. Hwasa fights the script and wraps one of her strong arms around your neck to keep you right there, motionless inside her for a few seconds longer.

“F-fuck, I need to—”

“Fuck the director, really,” Hwasa groans back, but you can’t stay. No, no, no, you really can’t, yet it’s quite scary to tell her that. Given that she is small, you can just run away—again. Storm out of the van under the angry roar of Hwasa, right to the awaiting co-host.

“Prompt four?” you ask, pretending to be joking and out of breath.

“Well, yeah, there is a fourth prompt. Right at this wall.”

He points to one of the outside walls of the hotel, which has been painted to resemble… something. You actually care too little about this detail, the hard cobblestones below you are a much bigger issue to you. They feel uncomfortable to stand on. At least you can rely on your fellow actress to deliver. She’s already leaning on the colorful stripes painted on the wall’s paneling, immersed in her role.

“The fourth prompt: the rent is due and she has no money. Go!”

“Hey, Ms. Wang!” You jump into character without warning, making Yiren’s shocked reaction a genuine one. “You’re late on your payment, again. This is the third time already this year, for fucks sake, it’s not even June yet!”

“Please calm down, y-you will get it soon,” Yiren tries to bargain for more time. She tends to get out of trouble with her charms, her cute, small face for example, but she has crossed all of your red lines already. She will pay up now or suffer the consequences, legal or illegal ones.

“No, I wanted it a week ago. You know I give everyone an extra week all the time, but you’re the only one who needs it regularly, and today I’ve had it. I woke up, checked the bank, and you still haven’t paid! This is the last straw, Ms. Wang.”

“I-I’m sorry, okay? It’s been rough, I couldn’t get the mon—”

“We had an agreement! Fuck it, either you leave until Friday or I’ll kick you out myself.”

“No, please!” Yiren drops to her knees and lowers her head. “Please don’t kick me out, I-I can only stay here!”

“I don’t want to hear any weak excuses, I just want my money,” you groan and turn away from her.

“I don’t have any money. Y-you can check, it’s all gone.”

“Then you should leave, Ms. Wang, no need to make this ugly.”

“I-is there no way…”

Yiren looks up to you with perfect timing to catch your gaze at her mesmerizingly marvelous features.

“...I can pay you differently this time?”

“What do you mean?”

Raise an eyebrow when Yiren begins to squat before you and grins lewdly.

“I can make you want me forever. All I need is this.”

Her fingers go for your base, they glide alongside it, then down to your balls. Wordlessly, she then adds her lips to them, only for a moment, until she wanders to your thigh and places kisses all over it. To show approval, you rake her slightly damp hair with your sweaty hand. An odor of strawberry and salt faintly stimulates your senses. Yiren was in the shower not too long ago, she is a lot cleaner than you are. Go figure, after fourteen scenes a couple of scents are bound to stick on you like a layer of lustful perfume.

“This is indeed good,” you whisper and nod in the pattern Yiren strokes your base. “But it’s not yet worth the rent of your flat.”

“I haven’t even started yet, Sir.”

A final kiss on your now lipstick-covered thigh, then Yiren jumps to your tip to proceed with the much smaller, much more sensitive surface. Her delicate strawberry lips part a little for the smooches she so tenderly uses to get your blood out of your head into your head. It’s very effective.

“Wow, I did not know you could suck cock like a hungry whore.”

“How did you think I make my money?”

“Honest work?”

Yiren chuckles. It’s adorable, her outer appearance as a whole is, but apparently the rumors about her were true. As her landlord, it could cost you a lot of money if you keep falling for her skills after this one session. Maybe it’s her strategy to get new customers, and you have fallen for it like a fool.

“Wait a second,” you hiss just when Yiren is about to suck you in deeper. “Why didn’t you just make money then? Who would reject such a woman if she was offering herself.”

Yiren simply shrugs.

“I was just lazy, I guess. This cock right here will save me so much money.”

“And what if you’re all talk and I say you haven’t deserved it yet.”

“That’s not going to happen, Sir.”

Is Yiren really up to the challenge? To say that the answer is a doubtless ‘yes’ is still an understatement to how fucking good she actually is. Millions of people have rolled their tongue along and around a swollen glans, yet none have mastered it the way this chinese beauty has. Everywhere her tongue touches, it doesn’t matter if it’s the underside or the topside, bursts of pleasure electrify your nervous system.

“Oh, shit.”

Take a step back, search for the wall with your hand to find stability during Yiren’s knee-shaking, mind-melting blowjob. There is not much to see for everyone watching this, thus you have to go all out with your reactions. You know Yiren is not the best at taking it deep down, you have to work around it; luckily, she knows how to.

“I see you like it?” Yiren laughs with casual confidence, slapping you against her lips before finding your balls with them. Your cock rests upon her forehead, yet her eyes still try to stare at it. She crosses them while slobbering all over your perineum area. “Isn’t this so much better than rent?”

“You fucking hooker, fuck,” you groan with no need to exaggerate your volume for the cameras which capture both your and Yiren’s point of view perfectly. It’s going to end up in a wild porno, however you can’t deny the craftsmanship that goes into getting the pictures. Ah, don’t kid yourself: if it weren’t for all these girls being so hot and your dick being this long, no one would spend their hard earned money on this.

“Our customer service can also finish the job,” Yiren says with the voice of a skilled saleswoman, her skilled hands giving you a sample of what she can provide.

“I-I think I’ll have to come back then.”

“Does this mean you’re satisfied with the new way of collecting rent?”

“Ah, fuck, yes. Fuck you, you fucking hooker.”

A cheerful eye-smile and a pop to free your sack ends the scene with Yiren. Your stint of acting while acting was a short, stamina-draining one, though the self-immersion in these dumb characters has helped you keep the second load for later. These four vixen might have been great, but ‘cumming without control’ was never part of any of the prompts. Those viewers who like to see an orgasm to finish themselves off still have to wait and edge. Good boys and girls.

“Are we going back in?” you ask the co-host who skips towards an emergency door on the far end of the hotel.

“Yes, yes! We, no, you have so much left to test. Please go to the booth on the right.”

He is filled with a sense of hype, maybe it’s all the sex clouding his mind in horniness. As long as he does his job, there should be no problem. You do as he says, finding a booth about the size of the rooms from before. There is a huge lamp on the ceiling for proper lighting and a cozy carpet on the floor for proper testing. It has the color and smell of lavender—or is it the girl under the lamp that smells like the famous flower?

“Nice to meet you,” you greet the girl with her lavender colored lips and skirt, though the tightly wrapped piece of clothing is a stronger shade of purple. It resembles lavender the best, now that you think about it.

“H-hi,” she stutters and waves her hand in tiny. “My n-name is Rei, I’m from Ja-Japan.”

“You are a very attractive woman, Rei, the make-up looks great on you, just like the buns.” You flood her with compliments, your charm does the rest. Rei’s tense shoulders relax a bit, and they stay relaxed when you step closer to her,

“Th-thank you, that’s very nice of you.”

“Are you nervous?”

Rei’s trembling hands move to the hem of her skirt and she loosens it to show her hairy pussy. Her thighs are too big, they keep the skirt from falling all the way down.

“A bit, yes, but I really want this.”

Rei points to your cock which starts to poke her tummy, a few centimeters above her hidden clit. You place your hands on her sides and delicately spin her around. To your surprise, Rei not only has monumental breasts, which sadly are not your focus today, her buttocks are also round and firm, definitely well-trained.

“You’re excited?” you ask her, fingers running circles on her ass. “I know I am, your body is very ruinable, perfect for testing.”

“Y-yes. Pl-please be gentle with m-my a-ass.”

“I will, trust me. Just relax and lay down.”

Rei’s curvaceous body sinks into the thick, fluffy carpet, which, to your surprise, might actually work very well as a surface to fuck on. Align yourself with Rei’s booty, which could also be described as thick and fluffy, and before penetrating her tight ring, you lean close to her ear.

“You’re still not fully relaxed, Rei,” you coo, your thumb drawing circles on her painted cheek.

“I-I’m trying—”

“Don’t try. Take deep breaths. Tell me what you like, and we can make it work, hm?”

Rei takes deep breaths under your touch, her bountiful bosom heaves for what could be an amazing visual. The camera only catches her cleavage and her tongue starting to protrude from her lips.

“I la-la-la-like my tongue being played with,” Rei hums timidly, but you show no hesitation and move your fingers inside her mouth. Wiggle her tongue in between them and feel her hot breath graze them while you graze the immaculate ass crack.

With a reminder to be gentle, you insert yourself into Rei. About half of your cock fits inside of her, then she starts to bite down on your fingers. You hiss, but try not to make too much of a show out of it. With slow thrusts you let her asshole get used to the new sensation that is your length and width.

Rei’s expression must be one for the ages, as the cameraman filming her face seems absolutely thrilled about the footage he is getting. It might just be Rei’s charm or make-up, who knows what these crazy guys like. They have seen it all, over and over again, to the point where they can only feel something when you hit them with a baseball bat.

“How does it feel, Rei?” you ask her without stopping your rhythm-less short thrusts.

“V-very big, very good, ah! I-I can feel all of you.”

“But… I’m not even all the way in.”

“What?”

You feel Rei’s jaw drop and take the opportunity to explore her mouth more. Your fingers roam and fiddle everything they can find, making Rei fall into a haze.

“Should I put it all the way in?”

You hold yourself back from slamming down, waiting for Rei to groan her response past your fingers. It’s to your liking.

“Yesh, pleash. I can tak it.”

Can’t deny a lady her request, especially not one so urgent and easy to fulfill. With pleasure your tip searches for your pleasure, her pleasure, in an apparently endless cavern of pressure—it’s not the first you’ve explored today. They are all unique, special in their own way, narrow goodness that engrains onto the skin of your thoroughly used cock.

“You’re doing so good, Rei, I’m so proud of you. Having sex on a carpet is great, but you made it unforgettable.”

“Th—ha, oh my~”

Swear to God you slipped. No, really, you wanted to retreat from the darkest part of the cavern, but then your knee was unstable on the carpet and you gave Rei a hard jolt. It luckily ended in her moaning stupidly and not flailing and crying.

“I think I’ll have to pull out, sorry about that.”

“I-I love it, th-thank you!”

Another girl you made addicted to anal; it’s a great feeling to convey to an unsuspecting, silly audience who at this point has surely lost their mind at the insane length and scope of this episode. You will treat them to so much more, which is why you hurry to find the next actress.

You begin to recognize her from afar, the long, slender frame, covered in torn fishnets and overall skimpy clothing. Her lips are crimson red, her tied-up hair black and blonde—

—the massive choker around her throat is the final detail, absolutely crucial to your kinky plan.

“There will never be a day where I am not ready to fuck you, Yoohyeon.”

“Wow,” she replies in shock. “I have never been greeted this rudely. Have these girls made you stupid?”

“Get down and pray that these shoes will keep you from falling, because I won’t.”

You reach for the back of her choker and roughly yank it. In short bursts Yoohyeon loses her connection to the fresh air surrounding her. Things get worse for her oxygen flow when you shove your cock into her mouth without interrupting the strangulation.

Instantaneously, Yoohyeon is a crying, gagging mess, her humanity turned off in favor of the primal instinct to survive. However, she is not strong enough to break free, your cock is like a constant pendulum swinging deep into her throat. From the outside, the ring of her choker helps you with stimulation. It presses right on your slit, milking some of your clear and salty precum out.

“If your girl is a freak like Yoohyeon,” you address the camera, still lost in Yoohyeon’s empty, glassy gaze. “Make sure to switch, switch, switch things up. Become unhinged, unpredictable, unstoppable. Do stuff like this!”

Grab Yoohyeon’s ponytail and rapidly move her head in circles, creating a wet tornado of saliva when you pull out. The constant forced motion makes it fly everywhere. Yoohyeon voices her dizziness with shrieks, which will not become words.

“Or this.”

Smack her right cheek with the back of your hand, it slips right off due to all the tears and runny make-up. This time, you not only shove your cock all the way in, you also move forward. Yoohyeon has to lean backwards further then she ever has during her face fucks. Her many scenes did not prepare her for this, her large boots start to lose her grip.

“Show her your new side and why you’re special,” you end your demonstration and the camera catches how Yoohyeon falls over, free from your filling cock, searching for air. Before she can complain or ask for more, you must flee.

Sneak away, around the corner, it’s just a couple of steps into what appears to be a dark alley. Three beds are placed on one side, different sizes, different styles, and opposite of them are three very different doors. One looks like it leads to the room of a young, single woman still living with her parents. She is too lazy to change the pink door with the Hello Kitty stickers from her childhood, so it stays. The second door has a hostel vibe to it. Brown color has been painted on it and now flakes off along with the century old mold below it. The last door looks like it has been stolen out of a world famous hotel. It’s the color of marble, has gold ornaments neatly spread around and the number ‘30’ is in the center of it.

“What the fuck is this?” you think out loud, hearing the footsteps of multiple people behind you.

“Hey, y-you’re too quick,” the co-host complains from behind. “Let me explain what’s about to happen here.”

“I’m all ears. Seriously though, why can’t we just go back to the real hotel rooms? Did you really have to steal a door from the hostel across the street? And what about the—”

“A-nyways!” the co-host interjects with an awkward laugh and swipes his hands like windshield wipers. “We need your expert opinion on these three models. Their sheets are the same, the differences not as obvious—”

“What are you talking about?” you complain. “You don’t need an expert for this. We have a big bed, then a small bed and then a bigger bed, end of story.”

“J-just lay down on the first one, you’ll get it very soon.”

You cut some corners in the dialogue, which is mostly because you didn’t want to torture the dear viewers with terrible jokes—something with bet, bad and bed, makes you want to throw your career away. Without further instructions you climb into the first bed, wrap yourself in a blanket and pretend to sleep. Yup, this is a bed alright. Literally your everyday bed, nothing too fancy, nothing that could annoy you.

“Okay what do you want me to say about this?” The camera catches your annoyed eye-roll. “Am I test-sleeping now?”

“Far from it. Yena, it’s your turn.”

The pink door opens, a girl in a white hoodie and short, plaid skirt walks into the scene and before you can blink twice, she is in the bed with you, pretending to use it like it’s hers. For a minute you watch her, as she plays on her phone, rolls around a bit and then suddenly decides to fiddle her panties out from underneath the skirt.

You see erotic videos pop up on her phone screen. Yena starts to caress her thighs, rub the shaven area near her clit, never daring to go all in. She bites her lips as overacted moans screech from the old speakers on her phone. This is not doing it for her—even the overstimulated consumer who is still watching your video knows. Luckily, she has what she needs right behind her.

Wordlessly, you bunch up her skirt and search for her puckered hole. Yena instinctively lifts up one of her legs. She winks at you before her mouth opens wide in a moan that echoes through the hallway. Finally she has what the women on the screen have: a large cock in her ass. In the video she basically sees what’s happening to her rectum. You stretch it apart, widen her hole, a new entrance for pleasure.

“What are you waiting for?” you devilishly growl into Yena’s ear. “Use your fingers, and I’ll promise that you’ll cum harder than her.”

It is with ridiculously perfect timing (like there was a script) that the porn star on Yena’s screen loses control of her body, it rocks and jerks in all directions as the cock stops fucking into it. You know that Yena takes a close look at the actress's face, covered in sweat and happiness when her fingers dive to her clit.

“Yes, please, make me cum,” she begs, out of breath from her own touch, your pelvis hitting her butt and your cock stuffing her hole.

Reach for the leg Yena struggles to keep up in the air and use it as a lever to slam faster into her. Meanwhile Yena’s fingers are eager to quickly send her over the edge in what can only be described as the best of two worlds. Her small, cute thumb is slow and soft, treating her clit with utmost care, while the rest plunges and curls inside her wetness recklessly, harsher than you would allow yourself to treat her. You can even feel her rub you from the other side and figure that you’re just a prop now, a dildo for Yena to masturbate with.

“Ah, I’m so close, God, I’m cuuuuummmmmiiiiing!”

Okay, she definitely watched too much porn and read the wrong kind of fanfiction to have such a ludicrous, forced reaction. You’re not here to judge her, so you hold her slutty waist steady and thrust up until Yena’s body mimics that of her idols. She trembles uncontrollably, moans, screams, her eyes roll back—the entire porno-package—basically your life in a nutshell.

“Finger yourself stupid,” you command. Yena does not notice that you're suddenly absent from her gaping hole, she is too engaged in what she can do to herself without anyone’s assistance. The crew films glimpses of Yena still going at it, cunt pierced open, clit hard and clearly protruding.

“No, I’m cuuuummming agaainnnnnnnn, ahhhhhh!”

That’s enough for you. Jump onto the next bed without much care, it creaks and squeaks, the springs feel old and used. This won’t be the first time someone fucks on this mattress. At least they changed the sheets before letting you test it. You also can’t deny their attention to detail: this bed clearly fits the vibe and feel of an old, suspicious hostel.

“This is not comfortable, ouch,” you whine to the camera, half acted, half serious. “No one intended that two people would use this bed at the same time, but at the same time I really think that no one ever slept here alone. If they did, poor soul.”

“What if we let you sleep in there alone?” the co-host asks and wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m just kidding—”

“And I’m just testing!”

Kill me. Not now, but after this shoot, make sure to shoot me.

“Sua, it’s your turn!”

The ancient door opens, a woman in a yellow crop top and a skirt with teddy bears and blueberry muffins printed on it walks into the scene and before you can blink twice, she is in the bed with you, pretending to use it like she’s owning it for the night. For a minute you watch her, the toned muscles on her back, her biceps, her spotless legs, until she pulls dark glasses out of her even darker hair.

“You know what beds like this and nights like these are for,” she suddenly sighs, putting the glasses on her pointy nose. “Don’t keep me waiting, boy, or I’ll make you see stars.”

The contortion of disgust on Sua’s features make her already attractive face an illegal amount hotter. The glasses add a surprising touch, the pictures really do not do her justice. Move your hands underneath the shorts and they are no more, discarded in the room like Yena, who still masturbates.

“This is better,” Sua hums, nodding in approval at the alignment of your erection. “Come, give me a kiss.”

Natural is the way your lips go down to get hers. Sua has the tone of a demanding teacher, who uses strictness and rewards to get the best out of her disciples. The notion of being above her because you have a greater pool of experience fades when she takes the lead. Your thrusts, their strength and their speed are under Sua’s full control.

“Lower. Lower. No, not there.”

She smacks your collarbone, threatens to pull you down by the throat if you don’t get your act together. The bed is long forgotten, Sua’s pleasure comes first. To hear her moan is a completely different feeling, the gratification not connected to the tightness around your rod, but the knowledge that you’re doing it right.

“That’s the spot, yes.”

“Should I go faster?”

“A little bit. Be careful not to slip out.”

“I won’t.”

Things are a lot calmer, quieter, not the kind of content you usually produce. Being approved by the producers, you trust that this is what at least someone likes to see: slow sex, low moans, hands respectfully resting on the other's body—and of course Yena’s sounds of blissful self-love in the background.

“I won’t say a positive thing about this shitty bed,” you speak towards one of the microphones, noticing that the cameramen are occupied with getting Sua’s ass and her face on tape. “I can only say positive things about this woman though, she—”

“Shhh, I don’t want to hear it. Keep on fucking, that’s a lot better.”

She is goddamn right, it is better. Sometimes even a talking head like you has to shut up and do the part of your job you’re actually good at. Your muscles start to feel the wear and tear of the intense session you’ve powered through to get here. Sua’s wish for you to keep the same pattern does not help, you need some way to let loose, or else your stamina will run out before you’ve reached the end.

“Fuck it, I’m going in!” a voice suddenly shouts from another room. Though it may be subdued, you can hear the neediness in it.

The luxurious door opens, a woman in a thin, way too short emerald dress and beige high-heels walks into the scene and before you can blink twice, she is in the bed next to you, combing her blonde strands with her hands. For a second you watch her and the bratty look of defiance on her face.

‘Somi, get the fuck back here’ one of the crew members mouths, you see him flailing his arms angrily in the corner of your eye. Also in the corner of your eye is Somi sticking out her tongue to the guy, whose face turns every shade of red and blue until he gives up and leaves the set. Finally there is some chaos here, time to use your impromptu acting charm to save this mess.

“Excuse me for a second,” you whisper to Sua, stroking along her raven hair. “I have to do something asap. I’ll be back.”

“Sure,” she groans quietly.

“Hey, you!” you address Somi and walk along the massive bed. “Who are you and what are you doing on this bed?”

“I’m Somi.” A bitchy smirk. “And I have claimed this bed, sorry. First come first serve.”

“Unfortunately I have to test this, so do you mind getting off of it?”

Somi clicks her tongue and tries to look past you, but her eyes are drawn to the massive size of your glistening cock.

“I do mind, I’m not going to move and if you don’t get this fucking thing out of my face, I’ll call security.”

“You’re getting closer to it, Somi, I bet you can’t wait to have it inside of you.

“Let’s make a deal: I test the bed, while I fuck you prone.”

“Tempting,” Somi murmurs, nails tapping the side of your phallus. “I doubt that it will be fun though. Can you even satisfy me~?”

“Bitch, everyone can satisfy a bimbo like you.”

As soon as you get on top of the sheets, Somi takes a defensive position. She is on her back, the pointy end of her heels pointed dangerously close to your eyeball. The director, unable to influence the scene at this point, has his nervous, sweaty hands up in his hair. He knew all too well that Somi does what she wants and that her persona has to be tamed by another force on screen—you. After this, you’re going to ask for a fucking raise each time you’re forced to work overtime to control these fucking brats..

“Yes, keep looking at my pussy,” Somi purrs and pulls up her dress up to her waist. “But you can’t touch it. Touching is for men only~”

“Unimpressive, really.”

You form fists around Somi’s ankles. In a single powerful motion, you fold her in half, feet hovering next to her head. Somi yelps when her sizable ass is presented to you and she yelps again when you pull the laughable piece of clothing over her head. Through the messy strands of her disheveled hair, she can muster up no bratty reaction, not until you penetrate her asshole.

“Oh, you thought!” you shout out the moment Somi’s wrong hole becomes the definition of tightness. “You thought I’d fuck your pussy, but your oh-so pristine cunt has literally been fucked by a thousand guys—it’s loose!”

Smack Somi’s buttocks faster than you plunge in and out of her, make her ass turn redder than Yena’s and Sua’s faces as they watch from their respective beds. When you don’t spank Somi, your hands are too occupied with keeping her thin legs folded to do anything enjoyable, like grabbing her small waist or those massagable jugs. At first glance these perky tits look fake to you; it might just be the blur of pleasure though.

“Bimbo slut! Nice fake tits!”

“Y-you’re, ah, so, fuck, mean! Th-they are real!”

You lean forward, as far down as your flexibility allows, and spit and nibble all over Somi’s apparently real melons. Stare up at her, but the blonde has her chin up high, head thrown back.

“Oh my God!” Somi grunts. “I’m so-so close, hng!”

“Is that so?” You completely stop every movement, balls deep inside. “Then admit it, say it out loud, ‘I’m a blonde bimbo slut’!”

“N-no—”

“Or you won’t cum.”

Somi twitches, the little fight left in her curvy frame gone like vapor in the wind in light of her approaching orgasm. She gleefully reaches for her own legs, holds them steady and gives you ample opportunity to finish the job. All you need is the code word.

“I’m a blonde bimbo slut, I’m a blonde bimbo slut, I’m a—oh shit, ah!”

Right on cue, you put some of your reserve energy into your lower body and do what you have done all day with insane power that makes your own mind spin aimlessly: fuck ass, rough and deep. Somi screams and squirts, both come out stupidly violent and then abate with time. She numbs your ears and drenches your crotch, the clear fluid shoots from her well-used cunt like a broken fountain and washes away the smells of all the other women.

Somi is gorgeous and filthy, mixing both parts of what sex can be in one person who happens to fully focus on delivering on her bimbo image. It’s too late for her to rebrand, sadly, you’d totally try to feel her tits in a loving way, but who are you to complain?

A better question is: Where are you?

Somi had you on the verge of cumming, which would go against your pride. To cum in a bimbo after only a few minutes is unacceptable. You had to edge yourself, take labored breaths, think of… unsexy things, otherwise the script writers would be disappointed. Ever since then, only flashes remain. Your co-host guiding you away, a familiar room, two, maybe three girls. One of them wears a cap—

You’re in her mouth. This is bad. She is already sucking, lazily, but it’s very good, holy fuck! Your efforts of holding back are ultimately too late. An earthquake hits your entire body, head to toes, to announce your eruption. Instead of rapid spurts it’s one uninterrupted beam of cum, vacuumed out of your balls.

The girl is overstrained with your orgasm. She gags up the baby batter and it tumbles down her chin right onto her exposed nipples. The rest either makes its way down her throat or all over your dick, where it creates a sticky situation, slowly cascading downward.

“Ha, f-f—” the victim of your unwanted, overwhelming attack tries to catch her breath. “Wh-at the hell? Are you fucking stupid? Do you always cum in other people's mouths the second they touch your useless snake?”

“S-sorry, Seungyeon!”

Seungyeon makes you shout your apology, because her ruthless hands get a hold of your dirty dick and jerk you off without thinking about the painful overstimulation they are causing. Okay, no, she is definitely thinking about that, just in a rather heartless manner. You have to grit your teeth to not wince as she grinds your blood-filled, hyper sensitive cockhead in between her dry fingers.

“Too late for any apologies, you can drop dead for all I care.”

“Please, Seungyeon-unnie, don’t kill him, I ne—I mean, that would be sad,” an angelic voice complains.

“Minjeong, you would understand if he did the same to you. Look at this fucking mess!”

Seungyeon points at the white globs trailing down her body. Some of it pools in the gap between her massive honkers, creating a lake of fertility or some other unholy creation. Minjeong kindly smiles at the sight.

“Isn’t it fun, Unnie? The feeling of all the warm cum, avalanches of tasty semen on your toned skin and milky boobs.”

Minjeong takes one of Seungyeon’s breasts into her mouth. In hunger she cleans them of any residue of your mishap, gleefully she swallows all of it, but only after showing it to you in her slutty mouth. The things you would do to her if you could.

“Fine, you can have his useless cock,” Seungyeon groans and hands Minjeong your semi-hard and burning manhood, like someone would pass their mic on stage. Instead of hitting fabulous high notes, the girl in her messy dark oak colored bun and fishnet stockings devours you like a treat. She nibbles off the remainders of white from you and in consequence forces you to loudly show your resignation.

"Stop, stop, please!" you wail. "I can't handle this, please, let me… let me rest."

To your surprise and delight, Minjeong not only has an angelic voice; her character at least somewhat mirrors the kind, heavenly being. She stops her movements completely, letting you rest inside her warm mouth. There is literally nothing you can do without the pain of overstimulation resurfacing again. Good thing that you don’t need to do anything to feel pleasure.

This kind of kink is probably frustrating to watch, but frankly, for these few minutes you don’t give a damn. Should these horny fucks edge themselves while Minjeong’s adorable yet cock-hungry face fills the screen. You won’t budge, except for a hand that caresses the girl's bangs.

“This hair looks great on you, Minjeong.”

If she could move her lips, they’d form a smile.

“You are quite the pretty girl.”

If she could talk, she’d say ‘thank you’.

“Also, thanks for cooperating. This was quite… unforeseen.”

“Keep your compliments to yourself,” Seungyeon snarks from the side and punches your hips with her balled fist. “You're such an idiot, you haven’t even greeted her yet.”

“Oh, no no!” another girl tenderly says, your eyes only now catching her. “It’s not my turn yet. I will wait.”

“What’s your name?” you ask, scanning her tiny frame. A denim two piece covers her private parts, her milky skin a perfect contrast, especially to her tight up black hair which seems to shimmer in blue. The most noticeable thing about her are her slender arms, tied up behind her back with the straps of handbags.

“Yeojin.”

“Why are you tied up, Yeojin?”

“Because I want you to use my mouth as the teeny-teen fleshlight it is meant to be.”

A sentence like an aphrodisiac. The desire to plunge into something with your slightly sore dick returns. It overrides even the concerns for your stamina. Give credit where it’s due, Minjeong has done a fantastic job in keeping you warm until now, but Yeojin is what sends you over the edge again.

“Okay, fuck. Thank you Minjeong, I will treat you to something nice later—”

“But now you want her?” Minjeong giggles. “Understandable. Make it a show. Test her fucking mouth.”

Yeojin might look small, in your large hands however she is even smaller. No reason for her to back off, she does not look like she regrets her words, in fact, the opposite seems to be true. With the look of a stupidly stupid sex doll, she slightly opens her full lips and you part them wide, their softness on you at all times. Grab the tied-up strands to handle her like a proper fleshlight. Mercilessly thrust her face onto your cock once, and gasp in surprise when all of you easily fits inside her—gagless.

“What the hell, are you a professional or something?”

Yeojin doesn’t respond, her face shows minimal reactions, eerily similar to a sex doll. Her posture remains unchanged, even when you go harder there is no strong reaction. Your mind can’t wrap around this yet, the script writers did a terrible job at explaining how insanely good yet awfully confusing she is. Yeojin, real-life sex doll with pouty mouth—this description does not do her justice.

“Seungyeon, Minjeong,” you call out to the girls behind you. “I need your help.”

“What for?” Seungyeon groans, while Minjeong already crawls to you.

“I want you, Minjeong, to undress this petite sex toy. Seungyeon, grab that ponytail and smash her face onto my crotch, I want to feel this nose on my abs.

“Help me destroy her.”

The two get to work immediately. Seungyeon swats your hands away before you have time to remove them and she starts slamming. Your cock disappears and reappears at an insane pace, the outline of Yeojin’s throat changing from thin to massively bulged. Minjeong kneels behind Yeojin, digs her fingers into the denim top and yanks it down to the rest. Leaving out unnecessary teasing, she removes all of it by finding the zippers. Hands rubbing over Yeojin’s exposed skin, Minjeong presents it to you.

“She has a petite body, small waist and shoulders, her hips are a bit bigger but look: her tits are even smaller than mine, basically nonexistent.”

Minjeong cups Yeojin’s chest playfully, and she is right there isn’t much to show. For those that love this type of body, Yeojin is the perfect sex doll. You step to the side for a moment to let the camera film the perfect view. Right on cue, Minjeong spreads Yeojin’s legs.

“Her pussy looks very tight~ I bet you don’t fit in there. Those thighs are the only thing with at least some meat. Round and firm!”

Minjeong smacks them. Watching them wiggle was a mistake, as Seungyeon angrily shoves Yeojin’s face back onto your cock. Fuck, if she continues at this pace, you might cum too early again. Maybe it’s time to abort this room and flee. You don’t gotta catch them all, there is still so much to do. Luckily, a familiar voice saves you from Yeojin’s wet throat, which might literally suck someone’s soul out.

“Magnificent, truly magnificent!” your co-host raves. “There is still so much to do, please follow me!”

JUST TESTING CONTINUES HERE

(A/N2: Sorry, Tumblr is a little bitch and I had to cut it here cuz the fic is too long. Seriously, I hate this site)

2K notes · View notes

astralnymphh · 5 months

Text

ROBINS EGG BLUE

⤹ . moments with domestic!ellie x pregnant!reader

WC; 1.07k

⤹ . content; fluff, lovey–dovey, may cause baby fever or heartwarmed tears to swell, reader discretion is advised ౨ৎ

pregnancy is infuriating as not being able to comb your hair thoroughly. there is always a fat fucking knot to stem the fluid moment thereof– just as there lies a fat, fleshy boulder fastened to your stomach for a gruelingly long nine months. the bulge of your belly button has witnessed most of three seasons, and you weren't buoyantly idling around for the fourth to appear. this baby– this little devil, needs to get the hell out of dodge.

from the chagrin of a pair of jeans failing to button at the hips, straining the seams as you pull that fly parallel to your mother yanking the poor hairs from your scalp with a paddle brush– to the fleeting aggro nearby popping a blood vessel you feel when arguing with your wife, ellie, about some nonsensical, fruitless or futile dispute about what wallpaper pattern best suits the small dimensions of the nursey– pink and pearl striped with roses or robins egg blue and beige striped with roses, ellie continuously states "they're basically the same baby, i don't see what all the fuss is about." or whether ellie should throw in a batch of dino nuggets or regular nuggets cause the taste totally isn't the same, the shape definitely impacts how salty it is to your tongue, illogical banters.

but ellie will still be your loving, selfless, fond, and doting wife. your number one. apple of your eye. stupid auburn–haired heartthrob. you name it. through thick and thin of your expanding belly, she will always be the first palm to greet your baby in the morning, plastering her blanket–hot hand just beneath your navel and pressing her sweat damp fingerprints dimpling into your stomach, bending her index lightly into the petunia purple stretchmarks that vertically dip into your hips, waiting for minutes in the virgin sun morning for your baby to kick. literally, she has abandoned her old forenoon routine just to feel that first thump on her hand. and when it finally does happen, a little pounce vibrating beneath her palm lines– her fingers twitch lightly and a smile immediately crafts upon her rose lips, purring excitedly upon the fringe of your ear, words that only your snoozing brain with hark, "huh, see? he knows who his mama is– told ya."

but, ahh, stretchmarks.

she adores those little lightning marks lacing your belly– you on the other hand, thought the contrary, to which that husky fry would remind you, "ts' cause y'gotta baby growing in there, yeah? ours." flowing past the pouty berry lips so adamant on plowing kisses to the span of your scruff, ghosting them dry over the fine threadlike hairs with a pitched promise to never let you– or your belly go.

or, goddess, that one time ellie insisted you sit on the couch while she played her acoustic guitar, denting her fingertips with the strings as she plucks, subtly leaning the bay oak instrument closer to your belly so the baby would pick up those hollowed notes vibrating through the air. the fattest smirk would mushroom those cheeks to hug her nose– grooving those nasal lines to encase the thin curve of a smile, deepening at the corners. you even recall the dorkiest shit ever, how it carried to your ears out of the blue and left you pinching brow lines of amusement, "gonna' play this lil' guy guitar everyday– hey, d'ya think if i do that, he'll come out already knowing how to play?" spoken on a smokey chord, glancing up at you through lashes slightly downturned due to her facing the belly, directly. you told her with a sigh, "ellie, that is not how it works." dumbly smirking back, and she replied, "what? c'mon, maybe if i play electric, he'll be born a rockstar!" squeezing her voice with silly enthusiasm. a roll of your head cracks your neck, dangling back to barb, "you are ten times the idiot than you were yesterday." cause, well, she's constantly spewing the dopiest ideas. next thing you knew, she was rasping, "m'your fuckin' idiot." that cheesy motherfucker, slinking her guitar off the round of her thigh and stowing it at the sofa's footing, lurking forward on all fours to tackle your belly with bespattering kisses, moist and fiendish as ever.

infuriating was the task of putting socks on. fucking socks. the effortless effort that would usually clock you under ten seconds, moreso felt like ten eons. "ughh!" you would grunt from the depths of your compact lungs, extending two zombie arms over the blockage of your portly belly, perking the ears of ellie who was just in the abutting room, walls thin enough to bombard with sound. she whips around the door trim, leaning her lank weight away from it and cocking her head, distinguishing the predicament you had landed two feet in. a dry chuckle sounds from yonder the room, trailed by her honeyed resound, "need sum' help babe?" which, to her, falls to strike as a question– au contraire, soft, padded footsteps of feet who already had socks on, lucky them, carries ellie over and at your side, crouching with her knees splayed apart like bird's wings, raising hands to politely creep fingers under yours, prying the cottony ball from your grasp and craning it to her chest, sidling in her squat so that she would be an eyeshot vis–à–vis to you, at your beckon practically.

you remained silent, doused in the soft moment before you, yet a little embarrassed you couldn't do it yourself. a raspy, "here's one.." croaks from her throat prior to a hand cupping the ribbed underside of your ankle, tamping it gently into her chest so she could unfurl the sock and roll it up your foot, hedging your toes first with the linty fabric and laying it up the heel, letting the band snap in place– and her fingertips lingered at the ankle, caressing the nub for only a twinkle in time. "and the second one.." she scoops up the other foot, repeating the same tedious tenderness she gave to your other, gliding her hand from your ankle to your knee as she stood up, plating a pressure to the top of your thigh as she leans in, lips first, uttering, "there you go," smacking a puckered kiss to your stagnant lips, whispering upon them, "m'comin' to the bathroom with you. wanna hold him for a bit."

not even wild wolves could tear ellie from your baby, her baby.

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rafescurtainbangz · 19 days

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Home Movie - Rafe Cameron +18

Minor DNI

Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader!

Based off of this ask by @unkown4932:

You and Rafe spend some quality time together after your birthday celebration, where you catch all the fun on tape.

2.9k <- almost all smut oops

Warning: SMUT & Swearing

Pet names, no use of Y/N, birthday sex, first-time anal fingering, unprotected p in v, oral (male receiving), recording a sex tape, hair pulling, Rafe talks you through it.

Reader's POV:

Your fingers comb through the back of Rafe’s hair, making him groan. "You know how hard it is to get you alone, princess?" Rafe chuckles, breathily as you amble toward the grand staircase. His face melts into your neck; lips meeting your skin, making your head fall to the side. "I'm glad everyone could be here for you, baby." He mumbles against your neck, working his way up to your ear, sending chills down your spine. "Fuck. I hate sharin’ you though."

"And, I hate sharing you. Tonight was perfect, baby. Thank you. Seriously, this has been the best birthday ever." Rafe pulls back slightly, meeting your gaze, his blue eyes sparkling. The corners of his rosy lips curl into a smile.

"That makes me so happy, sweetheart."

Rafe sets you down, not losing contact, lowering himself to your lips. He kisses you deeply, consuming all of your senses. His rich cologne, the sweetness of his taste, and green apple Jolly Ranchers, he can help but snag from your purse. He moans into your kiss, music to your ears as the touch of his rough hands glides higher and higher up your bare legs. He backs you up against the wall, tongue tangling with yours.

"You still up for this?" He mumbles between kisses.

"Mmm... Mhmm."

"You're gonna look so good on camera, princess," he rasps, the vibrations of his low tone tickle your ear, making you powerless. "Oh, I got you a gift. You wanna put it on for me? I'll set up the camera." You bite your lip and nod.

"After you, pretty."

A smile rolls across your lips as you see the mess of gifts arranged on the counter, a spray of rose gold and blush-hued balloons lofted on the ceiling. "Rafe," you sigh, happily as you take in the additional gifts added, a lovely bouquet of roses, your favorite pink wine, and a white apparel box with a red bow.

Rafe walks behind you, body pressing against your back, arms shrouded around your waist as you unfasten the satin, undoing the knot. You draw back the top, plucking out the tissue paper; letting out a sinful little laugh. There it sits, a VHS C resting on a nest of red lace lingerie.

Snagging the VHS you pass it to Rafe. He wastes no time, popping back the lid; pulling out the smaller cassette, jamming it into the camera. He turns back to you cupping your cheeks in his large hands, kissing your forehead, your nose, your lips. "Be a good girl and get dressed for me. Yeah?"

"Of course, daddy."

"Jesus Christ, princess," he groans, lustfully as his bare chest presses flush with yours. "How are you so sexy?" Rafe whispers against your lips, deepening the exchange a moment later, claiming your lips in a passionate kiss. His fingers drift into your hair, pulling you even closer. You reach down, stroking your hand over his clothed cock. "Lemme see you." He draws back to take a better look, moaning lowly as his eyes drink you in.

Rafe spins you under his finger, his darkened eyes trailing from the tips of your black heels to the top of your lace-trimmed thigh-high stockings. His finger traces the little straps, clipping your hosiery in place; following the line to the garter belt cinched around your waist.

"This is one selfish fuckin' gift," he chuckles, darkly.

"I love it, baby. I feel beautiful-"

"You are beautiful. Damn... You're divine, angel," he moans before you can say much more, lighting you ablaze.

"You ready?" Your hands rest lightly against his chest, feeling his heart racing underneath, matching your own.

"Haven't thought about much else today, princess."

"Neither have I," you whisper as your lips brush against his, feeling the anticipation build.

His large palms circle the fullness of your ass. "Shit..." He groans, drawing out the word as his hand meets only skin. His arm reaches further around your hip, fingers skimming your ass, reaching as far as he can, the tips of his fingers swirling your arousal dipping into your entrance. "You don't even have to take these off."

"How 'bout that?" You add, breathily, fanning the flame. He doesn't respond, just a hungry stare as he picks you up, shifting the two of you to the mattress, looking like he could absolutely devour you. He reaches down, practically ripping the button of his slacks open, going on all fours toward you as you move back to the headboard.

He kisses your forehead, retreating on the bed. One snap open, then the next. Rafe unclasps your garter belt straps, peeling the stockings off your thigh and calf, kissing and kissing some more as he reveals more and more skin. His fingers never lose contact, landing on your panties again.

Rafe drops his hips thrusting and rolling his rock-hard bulge into you. You can feel the chill of the slick between your thighs making you release an eager whimper. "Need you," you whine.

"You still wanna try, sweetheart?"

You nod rapidly at him before lowering your gaze, taking in his perfect form, tanned skin and thick muscles. His blonde fringe dusts his forehead, brushing against you as he continues to torture you with a few more hindered thrusts.

"I need you inside of me," you breathe, tugging at his boxers, drawing them as low as you can before Rafe yanks them off completely. His hard dick stands straight, weeping at the tip. You wrap your hand around his thick shaft, swiping your thumb across his tip before taking it between your lips, purring at the taste.

"I'm obsessed with you," he mumbles under his breath, his body tacking you to the mattress.

"Fuck. Me."

"Anything for you. Hands 'n knees, sweetheart."

You roll over underneath him as he rises on his knees, moving back slightly for you to assume the position. You rest your forearms on the bed, ass in the air.

"Like this?" You ask, looking over your shoulder, making his eyes roll back.

"Just like that," he groans as he takes hold of your curves, spreading your cheeks slightly. You watch a devilish smirk stretch on his lips. His eyes drift to the camera, checking his angle, making sure to get the perfect shot.

He draws his hand back slapping your ass cheek, a satisfying clap cracks through the room. Rafe snares your hips, towing you closer. You relax your body a little more, the sway of your spine deepening.

Rafe’s rough fingers meet your clit, making you release a throaty moan. "Such a pretty pussy," he groans as he works a little further back, toying with your entrance, running his fingers through your folds before slapping your cunt. "Always so wet for me."

"I'm so wet for you," you pant. "Please, Rafe. S-Shit-" You're cut short by a new sensation, as Rafe rubs his thumb over your taut hole using your slick as lube. He runs a line of spit down, making you release a little gasp as he circles a little quicker before pressing it inside, making you clutch the sheets.

"Good?" A smile spreads on his perfect lips.

"So fucking good," you moan. Rafe draws his finger out, pulling out a moan from your trembling lips. Rafe presses against you again, his pointer finger replacing his thumb.

"Want me to keep goin'?"

"Yes. Fuck, Rafe... Don't stop," you whimper.

You watch as Rafe wraps his fist around his dick as well. Your entire body starts to throb, heart banging in your chest as Rafe pumps his long cock at the same tempo as his finger, working in and out of you. A bead of precum drips from his swollen tip onto the comforter below.

Is he gonna fuck me too?

You feel heat spread across your already hot skin as he answers your question. His fat cockhead presses against your entrance, making your fingers twist in the sheets, gripping tight, eyes squeezed as he glides inside your pussy.

"O-Oh, Rafe. I- Mmm..." He sinks balls deep, the skin of his body pressed against yours, making you cry out. He lets you adjust to his size and the new sensation.

"Please..." You manage, wanting desperately for him to move.

"Gotta use your words, baby girl. There somethin' you want?"

"Fuck me," you whine.

"There's my good girl," he grunts, rocking into you at a familiar tempo, working his fingers in tandem with his thrusts.

"Oh my god," you gasp, in ecstasy as he adds another, filling you fuller than before.

"Jesus Christ," he huffs. Rafe curls his digits inside your ass, pumping both a little quicker, making you tighten around him more. "Feels so good, baby... G-Goddamn," he pants between ruts.

"So good," you cry.

Rafe’s palms the arch of your ass with his other hand, spanking your cheek before gliding it forward, forcing your body a little lower. He feeds off your whines and moans, searching for that perfect angle to send you over the edge.

"Right there," you cry.

"Like this?" He asks in a taunting tone, using your words from before. "Right there, sweetheart?"

"Yes. Yes."

A cocky smile spreads on his lips as he watches you carefully. The clapping of skin fills the room along with the lewd squelching of your cunt. "Faster," you snivel.

"Mhmm?"

"Harder," you plead through quivering lips, spit seeping out the sides of your mouth.

"Yeah?" He bullies. His hand takes a grip on your ass, rough thrusts with his fingers and cock making your body weak.

"Gonna cum."

"Mmm... Squeezin' me so tight. S-Shit," he stammers.

You scream out his name, pussy fluttering around his length as you cum harder than you ever have before. Your toes curl tight, hands weaved in the sheets as you flood his cock with your release.

Your lashes beat to a close, muscles settling around him as his fingers pull out. "Mmm..." Rafe growls from behind you as his hand rounds your hips. He grinds his cock slowly, just rough enough to make the plush of your ass recoil.

"Felt so good, Rafe," you mewl in exhaustion, feeling his hand sail up the bend of your spine, raking into your hair.

"You liked that, baby? You want more?"

"Yeah. Wanna make you cum, daddy."

"Look at the camera for me, darlin'," Rafe rasps, taking a tighter grip on your strands, guiding your fucked-out smile to the lens. You blink your eyes, doing your best to focus, ears ringing slightly.

"So fuckin’ beautiful… Holy shit," he moans as he continues to fuck into you nice and slow. "I wanna go a little slower this time," he whispers. "That alright with you, baby doll?"

"That's perfect."

"Come here, sweetheart," he calls for you.

The pads of Rafe’s calloused fingertips skate up your thighs, finding your dripping cunt. He runs a few small circles on your clit as you scratch your nails up his thigh. He lets out a deep moan as you apply a little pressure, rolling his heavy balls in your small hand.

“Can you suck me clean, baby?”

“Fuck, daddy… Please,” you sigh, dreamily as you slot yourself between his strong thighs.

"Open," he rasps, making you flatten your watering tongue. He inserts his thumb pressing down on it before inserting his cock nice and slow. "Close..." You wrap your lips around his length, feeling it strain on your tongue. "Suck, sweetheart." You taste his essence, paired with a hint of your own.

"You're lips look so pretty around my dick." You take him to the back of your throat, sucking him off to the tip, eyes locked on his. "Co'mere, baby," he croons, guiding you back in, kissing your lips, taking in the taste as well. His kiss is unhurried and deep, his tongue rolling slowly with yours, making you light-headed

Rafe pushes you back onto the bed, mounting you quickly, leaning his toned frame over your own. His kisses journey lower and lower on your body, kissing and re-kissing your skin, breathing in your perfume as his hands play as well.

His ringed fingers circle your breasts before pressing them together. He growls in satisfaction, kissing the mounds of your breasts. He flicks his pink tongue across your hardened nipple, sending chills across your body.

"Shit, baby. Look at you," he sighs, marveling at your curves, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He rolls your pebbled skin roughly making pleasure spur between your thighs, causing you to shudder out a breath. "Fuck. I love your body, honey," he groans. Rafe crawls closer, a boyish smile on his lips as he lowers himself to your ear, the warmth of his breath making a flighty giggle flee your lips. "I'm fuckin' your tits later."

"Yeah," you smile as you tuck yourself into his arms.

"Neither can I," you breathe, spreading your thighs a little wider as he takes his shaft in his hand.

You watch as he slides his cock into you slowly, plunging in with the wetness of your first orgasm. "Fuckkk. That feels so damn good," he groans. Rafe begins to roll his hips into you. You can see all of his muscles at work as he holds himself up with his forearms, his gold chain keeps cadence with his thrusts.

It's the perfect pace, the perfect depth, allowing you to savor him, every vein, and ridge, the curve of his swollen head dragging against your sweet spot already.

You look down, watching as he stretches you out; cock glistening with your cum. "It's like you were made for me, baby," he pants, breathily, pulling you from your daze, back to his beautiful eyes.

"I am..." you whisper.

Rafe's hand works up your arm, fingers intertwining with your own. "I love you."

"I love you too, Rafe," you whimper as he pins your hand above your head. His lips meet yours, kissing you passionately as he fucks you close.

Your nails scratch into his hair, making Rafe moan into your mouth. You dig your heels into the mattress, close not close enough as you meet his thrusts causing your skin to slap together.

He presses himself a little deeper making you wail. Rafe's body trembles, hips hitching at the sound of your bliss fighting himself to maintain his slower pace.

"Feels so good, Rafe," you cry.

"So, so good. Shit. I'm gonna be leaking out of you all night, sweetheart. That what you want?"

"Wanna feel you all night," you sigh.

He chuckles darkly, his deep voice vibrates against your skin just below your ear. "My dirty fuckin' girl." Rafe grabs his pillow from beside your head, placing it underneath you, changing positions slightly.

He pumps into you, building up speed. Your body starts to tighten around him, your finish surely coming soon. He separates from you, gripping your hips, thrusting at a rapid pace.

"Fuck, Rafe," you moan, fiercely.

"Are you close?"

"Yes," you whine, making him smile.

"You'll cum, princess, but not until I say you can," he orders through jagged breaths.

"Oh, fuck!" You yell, loudly as he spits on your pussy, rubbing circles onto your sensitive bud. You grit your teeth, muscles strained as you hold back your pleasure. "I can't take it-" You huff.

"You will," he grunts. Your eyes slam shut as he brushes his fingers from side to side.

"Rafe, please!" You plead. He smiles, his hand moving quicker causing you to grip the sheets.

"Cum for me, princess," he orders, and you let it all go.

"F-Fuck, Rafe," you sob, feeling your release, thigh shaking, back arching. Your wetness leaks from your pussy as he continues to pound into you.

Rafe throws his hips, pulsing deep inside as he fills you completely, his cum bursting out the seams, wetting his bed below. He thrusts slowly, brows threaded tight, milking out his last bits of pleasure.

Rafe leans down kissing you softly. "That was amazing," he whispers through his rapid breaths as you cup his sweat-sheened cheeks in your hands.

"Fuck. That was so good," you gust, doing your best to catch your breath.

"Let me shut it off. Okay?"

You nod, nose brushing against his, kissing him gently as he draws out. "Forgot that was on," you giggle as you enfold your naked body in sheets, watching as he saunters toward the camera.

"Me too, sweetheart. It's perfect. This is fuckin' perfect," he hails, holding the little cassette between his fingers, carefully setting it back in the VHS. He walks away, running his fingers through his hair, his bubble-butt bouncing slightly with each step.

"Where are you going?" You giggle.

"Cake," he answers, merrily, turning around with it in hand, sucking some pink frosting off his finger. "Tastes like your pussy." You roll your eyes and smile as you nestle into his pillow. "I'm serious. Better even."

"Better!" You gasp, playfully, pulling yourself up as Rafe climbs on. He situates you between his legs, dragging you back, leading you to relax on his chest, yanking the covers over you once more.

"Comfy?" He kisses your temple as he holds you close.

"So comfy," you sigh, blissfully. Rafe grabs the cake, resting it on your lap digging into the dessert, giving you the first bite, then him.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

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tarjapearce · 2 days

Text

Mi Dulce Cereza

Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Synopsis: Revenge's path is never an easy feat. Not when love for the enemy and other feelings get in the way. Would it rise and come out as a victor? Or would it succumb to the sweetest of beings?

WARNING: Novela level drama, Toxic relationships, character introduction, mild and brief sexual tension, No use of YN, Family feud, scheming, disingenuous behaviors. No proofread

Summary: Miguel's revenge is set into motion.

A/N: Centuries later, here it is <3, hope you enjoy this new version! So nervous about this jskjs. Thanks to my beta reader @oharasmommymilkers00 for the help <3

"Ma!"

The ten-year-old boy called, desperate as he searched and scourged the house he lived in, to eventually find her mother in his younger brother's room.

Ravenous and long curls adorned her back. Brown beautiful eyes stared with adoration at the little six-year-old boy, carefully tucked in her arms as she combed her child's wavy strands away from his innocent face.

"Ma!" the boy called a bit more urgent as he tugged on her skirt, earning him a hushed grunt from her.

"Gabriel está durmiendo, Miguel!" (Gabriel is sleeping)

"No, Ma! Debes venir a la entrada! Hay gente buscando a George!" (You gotta come to the door! There's people looking for George!)

Conchata quickly put Gabriel into his crib and darted to the entrance. Panic and bile rose in her insides.

The banging on the feeble and rusty metal doors alarmed Conchata the more she approached the main hacienda's door.

Much to her and Miguel's surprise a group of men, awaited outside. Dressed in the blue and white colors proper of a Santa Margarita's Town police officer.

Miguel's eyes wandered over the guns that nested on the men's hips as they rode their horses haughtily. But paid special attention to the man leading them.

Hardened and weathered face, partially obscured by his camel brown Stetson hat, dressed up sharply, letting his belt and the overall imposing aura to do the talk for him, same as his horse and everything that donned his body. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw Conchata.

"Miss Stone. I believe it's the third time I ask for you to leave" He acknowledged sternly.

A surname that made Miguel's churn in utter discomfort, but his mother always told him to give that name to strangers, since the O'Hara was only for the family. But even that one didn't sit right in his heart either. Not when the provider of such surname had been long gone from their lives, with no intention of returning.

And the men before his home were everything but familiar, strangers at best. Invaders. Trespassers with a penchant for intimidation as they were all armed to the teeth.

"The hell you want?!" Conchata crossed her arms and returned the steely glare the handsome and powerful man gave her.

His mother's bravado was certainly something Miguel could look up, despite the woman not being her best title of mother with him. But her bravery made him courageous.

"For you to leave my property."

"What are you talking about?! This is not your property, Anderton!"

A man like Pastor William was hard to ignore, not when power and influences oozed from him by merely existing.

"It is. You're living in Edenton's. Half the area is mine now."

"I have my property papers! This is outright ridiculous!" Conchata huffed as she sent Miguel to to get them.

"My lawyer is here. So we can have this settled once for all."

"There is nothing to settle!, I told your people I wouldn't sell my home and now you're acting far from someone that believes in God to get it!, maldita rata!" (fucking rat)

William narrowed his eyes at the last words that spilled with venom from Conchata's plump lips. He wasn't a man to give easily into anger, but his patience wasn't something to be tested either.

He had bought a good chunk of Edenton's territory and much to Conchata's dismay her home was right in the middle of said property.

The boy wasted no time into retrieving her mother's proofs of ownership as she opened the door to see the man that ground her nerves in seconds. Face to face.

And when the policeman and lawyer took a brief look at them, they could only snort in derision upon reading them.

"Not only are they outdated, but the important signatures are missing. This is fake."

Conchata paled, and she clutched her chest. Her heart pounded so hard she had to grab Miguel's lanky arm to support herself. Everything was slowly falling apart.

"Ma?"

Her boy looked up at her, concern plastered over his young yet understanding face

"T-That cannot be! George left it all arranged before leaving!"

"He didn't. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

William gave the papers to his lawyer as he climbed off the horse and Conchata immediately tried to get them back, but tore them im the process

"No! No! That's not true! My papers " She shrieked and the police officer intervened as soon as she tried to go for Anderton's lawyer.

"Stop! " Miguel was held back after kicking the officer's shin.

Conchata freed herself from the guard's grip, only to deliver a hard slap on William's face.

"La vas a pagar caro cabrón! A mi nadie me sacará de mi casa!" (You'll pay for this. None kicks me out of my home!)

The officers held Conchata back and Miguel, since the boy attempted to defend the remnants of his mother's dignity. But there was little they could do.

Conchata's land was prosperous, and so far it provided a good income to live rather peacefully and away from the rest. Until now.

William was rather strict and apprehensive about his properties. He owed half the town, and for Conchata to live there, right in the spot he wanted to build his home for his new family, rendered nothing but a black and ugly spot to his future dream.

Buthe would erase it. And if he needed to get over the law, to get it, he would. Influences had their perks. And these worked to his favor without a hitch.

"I'll give you three days for you to pack it up 'n leave."

"Three days?! Where am I going to find a place to live? My children... I can't leave-"

"I'm sure the local shelters will take you in gladly. Be grateful I got you time."

William seethed with his usual calm, sending shivers down Miguel's spine, as the boy held onto his mother's skirt.

The men turned around in their horses and soon began galloping away, but William got up on the beast back, remaining high and proud. Looking down at him.

For a man to make Conchata to clutch and hold on to him so protectively, meant she had no power at all. That she had been defeated. Something his childish brain thought impossible.

It reminded him the ways she sometimes protected him and Gabriel from George in his usual drunk fits.

That day, Pastor William Anderton remained forever engraved in Miguel's core memories and in his heart's growing rage.

Resentment wasn't often a feeling a boy so young like him should experience. But there he was, memorizing every dip, pore and soft wrinkle from the man's features so his heart and mind wouldn't forget him.

So he wouldn't forget who had been the monster that forced his family to leave and abandon everything he had known so far.

Miguel O'Hara had no longer a home.

But if there was something William had forgotten, was to never scorn a woman. Much less one with a fiery temper and a heart full of fresh wounds.

He had doused her wounded heart in salt, rubbed with it and then tossed it to the fire. To let it break and burn to ashes.

William hadn't shown mercy, despite the word coming from his mouth every Sunday in his church as part of his speech to the masses.

But Conchata's mind was already turning and plotting.

----

Miguel's upbringing was everything but easy, but that didn't stop him from achieving whatever goals he proposed.

Shelters and rental homes were left behind, and soon he earned a scholarship into a college, earning him a degree and masters in agronomy and large-scale management.

Gabriel in the meantime helped Conchata around the house. Having little side hustles for himself.

But as he grew up, so did his hatred for the Andertons. It didn't help that Conchata threw more dry hatred bones to the vengeful fire with her bitter tells. She always boasted on whatever little thing the Andertons did with spite and hatred in her heart.

William's face remained intact in Miguel's brain. Ever hardened and cruel, impassive to anyone else's suffering. Indifferent to his mother's pleas.

The day they left everything they knew, scarred him to this very day. Miguel sworn to one day, he'd owe his own estate, full of everything he always wanted.

He wouldn't have to sojourn through shelters and temporary homes ever again, having a hard time sleeping because of his mother's safety. He wouldn't have to look down in fear and shame when people that breathed and exhaled money, talked to him.

He wouldn't have to see his mother, shitty as she was sometimes, breaking down for not having for the most basic of needs. And he definitely wouldn't let himself to be trampled all over again by anyone. Not rich, nor poor.

Now, with a master's degree in his pocket, a new project rose in his mind. Train and rehab horses professionally. An emerging and blooming business within Santa Margarita.

Everything out of hearing that William entered a new venture. Purebred horses.

Of course a man like him had to be in the mouth of every people in town.

William ran the biggest church in the city, had multiple successful and clean business thanks to his estate, Cherryville. And now, the horses.

A novelty in town. He'd often see through the newspaper images of William and his wife, Rosaura, telling how wonderful and valuable they were for the community, and how much their philanthropic tendencies helped those in need. The man was rotting money after all.

Oh, the irony. Miguel sometimes wondered if William did it out of genuine vocation, cause he had to give the man some credit for keeping a saint facade in front of the rest for so long. He was doing it go hard or go home.

If people only knew the scum he is.

If everyone truly knew who Pastor William J. Anderton was, none would spare him a glance. None would look at his way twice to spare him some kind words. Everyone would shun him and mark him a fraud. His world would collapse. Something Miguel needed to achieve.

The purebred training horse's business opened his contact list, and with his smarts and the follow of his intuition, it took him a couple of years to get him in the map of those that were in dire need of help and could afford it.

Cause if he could exploit the rich, he wouldn't waste the chance of earning good money. Not when his personal estate was under construction and renovations, away in it's own heaven, outside Santa Margarita.

He stopped introducing himself as Miguel Stone long ago. He didn't want anything to do with that surname that stirred nothing but hatred and suffocating anger, towards the man that harmed his little and already broken family even more. And the O'Hara had earned him a bit of reputation.

A credible and respectful renown to meet people that gave him the chance to not only learn from the best horse trainers, but gave him the chance to apply everything he knew. Adding even more value to his resume.

Gabriel also graduated college, following Miguel's steps. Although the latter was more inclined to production than management. He was a more practical man than the over thinker of his brother.

Together they made a phenomenal duo, but when separated, months could pass before they saw eachother again.

But with Miguel's plan running, Gabriel promised him to remain close and available as possible to see it through.

In fact, William sought him out himself to ask him if he could train his horses and took full on responsibility of his farm.

-----

He was ready to set his plan into motion. None other than his number one enemy had hired him.

Miguel's body buzzed with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Being the best to get hired was scratched off his list.

Soon all the hatred festering in his heart to the man that destroyed his childhood and family, would come to fruition. But there was a remaining distraction.

Dana.

"Remind me again, why are you going to a farm to be exploited and mistreated by rich people?"

The soft voice behind him echoed in his room. Miguel sat naked on the bed, as the short-haired brunette with blue eyes hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek and neck.

"Gotta make it as believable as possible if I want to expose the Andertons."

Dana just hummed, seeing him so determined and focused into getting this family feud, settled once and for all, amused her to no end.

Dana rolled her eyes while resting her chin on his sharp and well worked shoulder, "But no need to be so serious."

It was Miguel's turn to roll his eyes and stand up, reaching his underwear in tandem.

"Don't be cold, Miggy. I just wanna see you again, once you're victorious, so we can keep celebrating"

Miguel chuckled with derision as he took a towel and wrapped it up loosely against his waist.

"I'm good, thanks. And there's no we in this."

"Are you sure? I mean, I spread word around on you and look at you now. The best trainer. I'd say I'm also part of this too"

Her voice irked sometimes whenever it got like this. Sickly sweet and full of lies. Even more when she purred nothing but half truths.

In truth, he had met Dana for the past six months, all thanks to Gabriel that suggested her as a contact link to those he wanted to get at. Filthy and obscenely rich people that needed someone to help them out with their properties as soon as possible, to salvage them out of sentimentalism.

Even though the initial chemistry was undeniable, it had worn out thanks to her insufferable and possessive attitude. And no matter how many times he'd tell her a plain and outright No, she kept insisting. She was the one that always returned and always ended up in his bed.

"Yeah, no. Look, I don't want you snooping around. And I mean it."

The only that believed that they were something. Sure, Dana served his purpose to keep those physical urges away, but other than that, there was nothing substantial about her he could say he was attracted to, besides her contacts.

Dana's hands tried to reach him, but Miguel stepped away from her touch, recoiling with haste and heading for the shower.

"If you ruin this for me, I swear, We'll have problems."

More than they already did? Impossible.

Dana just laughed, "Don't be mean, you gotta reward me one way or another for your clientele."

"Dios mio... Con qué loca me vine a enredar" (My God, what a crazy woman I came to get involved with)

He mumbled while stepping into the shower.

"I'll see you soon, baby." Her giggles had his eyes rolling with annoyance and his shoulders squaring.

He'd leave in a couple of hours, to start what his whole self had been preparing for years. Soon the Andertons would know him.

----

Returning to the place he grew up had his stomach in a tight and anxious knot, tighter than a hair's tangle.

The once colorless and rusty metal doors he loved to slam with his soccer ball while playing with Gabriel, were now turned into sturdy, iron structures that moved automatically. Sliding to the side to let him in as soon as he reported himself through the camera's speaker.

A Stony L-shaped wall held a metallic letters into another metallic structure. Cherryville Ranch.

He had arrived and his heart beat at the uncomfortable sensation of seeing his home destroyed and turned into a colonial-like resort.

Where there was a modest yet firm built, one floored home, was now a two floored manor that extended left to right. A vibrant sunset orange dressed the walls of the structure, adding enough color to the place sumptuous grandeur.

The staff ran up and down, bustling and moving like busy ants through the anthill, obeying the queen. Or rather monarchs.

His black Chevrolet Silverado parked outside, following the instructions of a man that gave him the ok with a good smile.

He had arrived ten minutes earlier, just in case. Miguel stepped out and put on his hat.

A black and brown flannel dressed up his torso snugly, a pair of jeans that did a wonderful job into containing his well worked legs, the belt just hugged his narrow waist, accentuating his sculpted physique.

The man offered his help with his suitcase, but Miguel refused with a polite smile.

"Keep going straight and you'll get to Mr. Anderton's office. It's the only brown door in this floor."

Strong hands clenched at the name of his enemy.

"Thanks."

Miguel had to take a moment to breathe in and take his surroundings.

Everything he remembered from his childhood, gone. His heart felt mike coming home to a stranger's home. Foraying in someone else's territory.

A someone that obliterated every single bit of his childhood, every piece of memory he created with Gabriel, forever gone and buried.

Replaced with over the top decors, a fake sense of coziness, hidden lies embedded in the sunset like sturdy walls, and people he once strived to be like. All now trespassers and inconnus.

Conchata always fed his brain into believing greater things, alway encouraged him to keep the hatred alive.

Would she be proud to see how far on his plan had he gotten? Probably. Even if she was busy with her new boyfriend that provided everything.

Some women shushed and spilled their gasp as he passed, leaving his presence alone to do the talk for him regarding the effect he had on women.

But this land, his once forgotten and forlorn home, would be his again.

With steadfast steps, he ventured in the enemy's territory, passing rooms and people that unavoidably watched him with brief curiosity.

But all those hubristic thoughts sapped away as soon as his eyes came in contact with the door.

A thrilled and anxious chill ran down his spine upon hearing the terse voice of his sworn foe, giving orders to someone in particular. Miguel's throat felt arid.

His heart thumped a miles per second, his breath paced into a more agitated pace and his eyes kept blinking, readying themselves to face his nemesis.

"Come in."

He obeyed and his nose flared, releasing a shaky exhale when seeing William. Same weather and cold face, the only difference was him looking a bit more rugged and his white hairs even more prominent.

It was as if time had barely passed over him.

It took every single cell and fibre of his body to control the urge to punch him in the face. But the satisfaction of having the reversed roles for a moment brought satisfaction like no other.

This time William had to crane up his head to see him, and a chill ran down his spine when meeting Miguel's red-ish brown eyes. Piercing and judging with all the intention of doing so, as if the very man before him knew his deepest secrets.

The door shut with a quiet click and Miguel stepped closer.

"Mr. O'Hara." William stood to meet him with a brief and firm handshake.

"Sir."

William nodded with a brief smile and gestured for him to sit before him.

"Must say what people say about you, do you justice."

"Good things I hope."

"Now. The property you'll be in charge is in a bit of a mishap, I've barely had the time to fix it-"

"S'alright. It's part of the barn you said?"

"Indeed. Your functions are detailed in the contract, payment is every fortnight, unless you'd like to choose another type of payment time."

"Fortnight is alright."

William pushed the contract to Miguel, and this wasted no time in reading it and taking a picture of each page.

"Any doubts you, can call me and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Miguel signed and pushed the paper back to him. William put it on a folder and then put it on a file. He turned off his computer, and lead the way towards the stables.

"I've tried everything, and nothing works. People have told me to sacrifice the horse, but I can't do that."

Miguel wandered after William through the never ending halls of the estate, there was nothing left of his home. Not even the built in stone oven, where he'd watch Conchata prepare dinner and he'd help out with the tortillas.

Now full of modern equipment and full of people cooking different things he couldn't name.

Miguel had to admit that the stables were his favorite part from the whole dollhouse. William knew no concept of budget. But that was alright, cause every horse in it was worth every single penny and had turned it into a lovely stable aisle.

Each horse had its own fortified enclosure, well kept and clean. There were no bad odors, dirt, mud. None of that. Matter of fact, his eyes blinked when seeing some horses having a swim in a giant custom made pool.

Everything in Cherryville oozed with power and money.

Having revenge and interacting with horses he only dreamed of while getting paid, felt the ultimate fantasy came true.

The angry neigh of a horse snapped him out of his thoughts. The black Friesian stallion kicked and nipped another brown horse nearby. The caretakers immediately separated them both.

William sighed deeply and defeated. And Miguel approached to inspect the brown mustang horse.

"That's Joaquín. The black one is Agustín."

Miguel quirked his brow at the name choices but was glad to have something he was familiar with.

Miguel chuckled and nodded

"Do you know spanish, Mr. Anderton?"

"The amount enough to understand when my wife is angry."

"I see."

As much as he wanted to let out an array of insults here and there to test his words, he'd keep his sharp tongue for himself.

"You can start tomorrow, I'll let you get installed. The barn is in good conditions to suit your needs. If anything is missing, ask any of the helpers around."

With a final and firm handshake, William left.

Miguel gave himself a tour. He wanted to familiarize with the property as much as he could. He didn't like to rely on others for the simplest of task.

Even his way to the barn had been paved and well lighted. No longer being the muddy a d dark road he loved to splash his feet in, even if that meant to have his ear pulled by Conchata later.

The barn, like the rest, took his breath away. It looked like a house for himself.

He wasted no time into admiring the work, and effort put into it. The tack room was sure a thing, but his bedroom and office were even better conditioned. It was a place worth of his skills and knowledge.

Miguel begun unpacking and installing himself. From his window he could see yet another extension of property, Bodegas and the staff living quarters he supposed.

One thing he had forgotten about the place were the torrential rains that always seeped in. Sometimes the blackouts were so common he'd rather be candle lit.

And another entrance to the whole facility adjacent a couple of blocks from his barn.

---

He had finished his shower after spending his evening trying to get acquainted with Agustín and the rest of his crew. Overall and so far it seemed the perfect place to work, but also a challenge.

Thunders roared outside and rain kept flogging every surface it could, permeating to the core. He was ready to make his bed and call Gabriel when the lights were out.

A loud whir echoed through, before the lights returned, the generator wasted to time into working.

What alerted him was the main entrance opening and closing shut.

Had a worker slipped in?

Another blackout happened as he approached to the door only to find a soaked and gorgeous woman shivering on the entrance.

"Ma'am?"

----

Your friends had promised to be a casual party among the singletons in town, nothing more, nothing less. But time and drinks kept going, like the fun.

Until you had enough. As an Anderton you had a reputation to keep, but you were glad your friends made you feel a normal woman, free of keen and expecting eyes and societal etiquettes.

Free of the overbearing role model you had to be for being the Pastor's daughter.

But right now all you cared for was to get inside the barn to give your body a rest from the cold.

The once lovely dress you wore was now hugging you with a vice like grip, suffocating your curves like a second skin. The red and short cardigan around your shoulders did little to nothing to protect you from the unforgiving rain. Hair stuck to your shivering face, teeth clattered as you looked through the window. The rain had no intention to stop.

Your hands removed the cardigan, then tossed the clothing piece to the floor, as you rubbed some heat back.

"Ma'am?"

The rich and deep voice got you jumping in your spot.

"Oh, my god... I'm-" You swallowed when seeing the handsome man before you, dressed up in nothing but his grey sweatpants and some slippers. A towel hung loosely on one of his shoulders.

His brow quirked as his face remained serene.

"I-I'm sorry didn't know the barn was occupied."

You kept rubbing your arms, hoping for the rain to drop. A loud thunder made you recoil from the door, while the drip drops scurrying off your body rolled down to the floor, joining into a puddle beneath your red heeled sandals.

If it wasn't for your hair sticking on your cheeks, the man would definitely see the profuse blush emerging on them. Shirtless men weren't in your everyday occurrence, much less handsome and tall men with beautiful eyes that seized your soul.

A smirk came on Miguel's face, as he retrieved another towel from the bathroom and he approached.

"I got installed today, it's ok."

He gave you the towel, and you took with a grateful smile. Immediately pat drying your face, neck and arms.

He watched you with sharp eyes, following your hand's movement as he slicked back his hair.

You were gorgeous. And drenched to the bones. That little dress did little to keep his eyes wandering to your thighs, marveling at the soft and plumpness of them. He had to look away as soon as his eyes stopped on your chest. The outline of your nipples poking out the dress, gave him enough distraction for a moment.

You didn't look past twenties.

"Uhm..." Your sweet and stammering voice made him curious.

Such a polite girl.

"Yes?"

"Can I use the barn's phone, please?"

He shook his head softly and opened his office. Letting the door open for you to enter.

"Of course."

"Sorry for the floor."

Your arms crossed on your chest, giving him a glimpse of your cleavage. Then fetched the phone, the number however made him frown as it was William's personal contact number.

"Hello? Papa? Can you send someone to the barn with an umbrella, please?"

Papa

Miguel blinked as he stared your way from the door frame. This was even better than he anticipated.

He was so deep in his scheming that forgot William's family. So far he knew, the Anderton man had only one child. And he was now looking at said person.

He could see some bits of William in you, specially in your nose and cheekbones. The rest was your mother's doing.

And what a good job they've made.

"I know, I'm sorry. Got too caught up in the party."

Miguel luck couldn't truly get any better. He could even taste his revenge through his mouth. It was sweet as your perfume.

"Thanks. Love you!"

You hung up the call and smiled his way.

"Thank you. Mr...?"

"O'Hara. Miguel O'Hara."

You gave him your name with a sweet smile as he shook your hand amiably.

"Right. So you're the new trainer?"

His lax frame slanted against the doorframe, blocking your way from the entrance with his form. His eyes fixed you with an enigmatic smirk.

Your nervousness was making your mind a jumbled mess by simply being around him. Half-naked men and men were off the list. Mainly because your parents' strict beliefs. And the man that would get you, would be your future husband. Without discussion.

"I am. Yes. Quite impressive the settlement you've got."

"Ah, well. Dad takes seriously his businesses, and he needs all the help he can get. So thank you for coming."

"My pleasure to help, señorita."

His lip curled, almost imperceptible upon your flustered reaction. Your skin remained with goosebumps.

"Come. Let's get you warmed up."

You followed him to the fireplace and soon he got another towel since the one you had was soaked through.

You sat in front of the fireplace and he draped your shoulders with the dry and cozy towel to then sit across you.

"Thanks" You gulped and extended your hands towards the fire, gaining a much needed wave of heat.

He couldn't wait for you to leave and call Gabriel to tell him everything he had seen so far. Everything was beyond perfect, like if the universe itself had delivered his revenge on a silver platter.

A couple of minutes passed before a familiar voice to you echoed from outside the barn.

"Mi niña! Let's go!"

The ever familiar voice of your nana called, and you stood.

"Thanks for the help, Miguel."

"Anytime, señorita."

He nodded with a softened smile, that didn't reach his eyes and watched you leave.

"See you soon!" You waved and headed back to the main doors. Your heels clicking on the floor.

"Vicky!" you squeezed under the umbrella after your nana secured the towel.

You wanted to give Miguel a last thanking but the latter had already closed the door. You left to the manor.

Miguel rushed to fetch his phone and immediately called Gabriel. He picked up after the third ringing.

Miguel talked and rambled about everything he had seen, and Gabriel could only listen. Expectant.

"Lemme get some months in and then you can come. That way we gather more evidence."

"What about that woman? Anderton's daughter."

He sighed with a dreamy heave.

"She looks the type that's perfect for luring."

"Use her to your advantage. Hit em right where it hurts."

"I'll do it. Don't worry. She's too kind and sweet. Won't see it coming."

With this new piece of information, Miguel could do so many things. But his goal was clear.

He'd hit William right where he dared hit Conchata a long time ago.

He'd go after you. And if that meant to act like he adored you, then so be it.

His revenge was finally in motion.

----

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#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #ranchero! miguel #mi dulce cereza

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rottiens · 24 days

Text

SHADE OF BLUE | GŌJŌ SATORU

✮ WC. . 2.6k

✮ tags. . canon au, yan gōjō, fem reader, blood, fluff (?), the descriptions could imply that the reader is depressed (tho I don't think so), suggestive. 18+ mdni. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Your vision is tinged with red, just like the sunset that paints the clouds above your head. However, this color is not as intense as the fresh blood that stains Satoru's hands, part of his arms and blue shirt. It seems that the violently inflicted wound caused some drops to reach his cheek, leaving a silhouette that would mimic the stroke of a wet brush. In the distance, as if planned, a bird squawked, causing your muscles to twitch as the cold breeze bites at your bare legs.

At first you fear for the blood being his but that doesn't make sense, you quickly cross out that idea.

"Wh-"

"May I come in?" his voice interrupts you, tired, raspy.

His white hair is wet like he's been running to get here or like he's been standing in the drizzle that started falling a few minutes ago.

"What happened?" Initially, the voice you hear is unfamiliar, echoing distorted in your eardrums.

"Please?" your fingers expose your unsure thoughts as you squeeze and cling to the doorknob. Satoru takes a fleeting glance at your chest made transparent by the pink fabric of the bathrobe hugging your figure, only to snap back into your eyes. "You're not afraid, are you?"

You take a deep breath of air; the rusty iron smell of blood stirs your insides. Finally, you exhale your doubts and push the door a little further to give him room and allow him to enter the cozy cabin, still with the thought hammering at the back of your neck that this is a mistake.

Satoru tilts his head down as he passes through the doorway, his long strides taking him straight into the heart of the cabin without pausing to look back. The cabin, which you rented to be close to the mountains and escape the horror your life had become a few weeks ago, has a rustic and cozy atmosphere, splashed with brown colors wherever you look.

The wooden floor creaks softly under Satoru's feet as they pause in front of the lit fireplace, while the dim light from the lamp overhead dances across his broad back and the walls.

Satoru turns to look at you. The tension from earlier when you opened the door seems to have disappeared from his face, his cheeks pale from the cold and his rose-tinted lips grateful that you have given him shelter.

"It's a cozy place." Satoru is playing with the silver ring on his finger as he holds your gaze. Your lungs empty, you should have known it wouldn't be so easy for him to explain what happened. With Satoru nothing is easy.

Your folded arms press closer to your chest, hiding your hard nipples from his all-seeing eyes.

"Thanks," is all you say in regards to his compliment because after all, why pretend this is a normal visit.

"That's funny. We could have both been here together."

A smile laden with irony stretches your lips. Your arms fall to either side of your body showing him your vulnerability. "It's funny indeed, considering it was you who broke up with me."

His laughter echoed with a sarcastic tone full of disdain, as if he was mocking the situation. "You know what…"

"Whose blood is it, Satoru?" You get right to the point and he grins now, combing back strands of hair that immediately take on the red color trapped in his fingers.

"I need a shower first." His long strides catch up to you as he slips past you, his eyes scanning you up and down undisguised before he turns his gaze back to the front. You call out his name turning on your heels only to catch up to see him disappear up the small steps that would take him toward the second floor and the bathroom. "Don't worry! I know where the bathroom is…after all, I was the one who sent you the pictures of the cabin, remember?"

You want to just sit there near the fireplace, feel its warmth on your hands, face. Sink your fingers into your forehead, massage your temples and finally wake up and realize that this is nothing but a dream… no! A nightmare. What was Satoru doing here? It was just one of dozens of questions bombarding your head, your temples beginning to throb with pain.

You command your feet to walk over the Persian carpet, its soft cells massaging your feet guiding you towards the steps previously trodden by your ex-lover. As you enter the hallway the rope that suddenly began to bind your temples like a rubber band tightens with more intensity, the floor is covered by the trail of his dirty clothes: shirt, pants, socks, boxers….

In front of the bathroom and thanks to the half-open door, you hear the water running. Your fingers push unwillingly the door relieving in front of you a completely naked man smelling the shampoo you had left on top of the sink, even without looking at you, Satoru could recognize your scent at least ten kilometers away so seeing him smiling when you stand still in the door frame is not a surprise for you.

"Satoru."

"I was missing hearing my name in your voice." His long eyelashes close as he utters these words, fluttering as he squeezes the bottle of shampoo to release the scent of coconut and vanilla. "Damn." Smells like you. His grip on the plastic bottle grows tighter before he finally sets it aside. He contemplates himself in the mirror for a moment before speaking again. "Come closer," he tells you, disguising his command as a request.

You don't know if it's because you don't feel like fighting that draws you toward him like a sailor to a siren's song, or if you really miss him and would be willing to do anything he asked of you to have his attention on you again. The only thing you recognize at this moment is his presence, which makes you feel overwhelmed and nervous, just like before when you were together.

Satoru turns to acknowledge your presence. "I asked you a question earlier." He stretches out his hand, and though your body tightens from the inside, you don't move a muscle. "Are you afraid of me, angel?" His fingers, which were hovering over your collarbone without yet touching you, descend along your sternum, brushing a nipple that hardens further by his presence as you try to pretend nothing affects you.

"No."

"Good." Satoru licks his lips. "Because I would never hurt you." As he continues to amuse himself with his fingers making circles you can't feel on your chest, your attention focuses on the details of his face; his pale skin and the red spot on his cheek that breaks the harmony of the color palette. "Now. Ask me."

You weren't prepared to hear what she had to say. Whatever his answer or justification, you could feel the weight of guilt of being complicit. Still, you dare to ask directly, "Whose blood is it?"

"I had to clean up," he replies with an exhausted sigh, then pulling his hand away from you and causing you to whimper almost like a wounded puppy. "The higher-ups," he finally adds, punching you in the lower stomach.

Immediately, something acidic pours into you, burning your insides, your esophagus, filling your mouth with saliva.

"Satoru?" you mumble barely audible, horror marking your frown and a brief pout warped by dismay. You needed him to tell you it was a joke. He took the hem of the blindfold and pulled it over his head like a bandana, only to let it rest beside you over the sink.

"Hm?" He's not looking at you, and you desperately look for him to continue the conversation.

"Did you kill them?" It's the question you don't want him to answer, even though deep down you already know the answer; you just need confirmation.

"Come with me."

Instead of answering your question, Satoru entwines his still-cold fingers with yours and guides you toward the shower that continues to spill water onto the tiles. You, on the other hand, don't move a muscle; your feet cling to the floor like roots as adrenaline floods through your bloodstream.

"Did you?" you insist.

"Just a few," he replies with the same relaxed expression.

"Just a few?! You can't…"

"Oh, but I did. I can, as a matter of fact. And I'll do it again if they dare speak to my future wife like that again."

In a matter of seconds, a lot happens. His fingers squeeze yours, proving to you that this was real; unlike the dreams and nightmares you've had about him over the past few days. His blue eyes finally stay locked on yours, burning your heated self with their icy presence as he tries to decipher what exactly is going on in your mind. You stumble over your own breath as you struggle to inhale deeply, rushing oxygen to your brain.

Something warm spills down your cheeks, descends into the depths of your belly and finally settles in your pelvis, riotous and intense, as subtle as the wings of a butterfly.

"I don't understand," is all you manage to say, your brain trying to process hundreds of stimuli at once. "Did you do it for me?" Guilt. Guilt.

You should feel guilty, your inner morale accuses you.

Once again, Satoru ignores you and pulls your hand to walk you towards the shower. This time you don't insist on standing still; your legs obediently respond by automatically moving toward the glass cubicle, giving his fingers permission to remove your clothing. Your tense body is grateful for the warmth of the water that immediately drenches you, for before he came to break what little stability you had managed to create, you were about to step into the shower.

For his part, he grabs the sponge and offers it to you, and it takes you a few seconds to accept it amidst the disheveled blinking that chases away the tears that threaten to spill. Then he drops a stream of the liquid soap and turns his back to you.

Moles and freckles hug it, from his broad, strong shoulders to the small of his back. Memories lash you; you remember tracing those moles when neither of you could sleep, you remember kissing them, you remember your fingernails creating red moons on it.

You carefully round his waist, your forehead rests right in the middle of his shoulder blades and the rain from the shower now falls directly on your head, making it a little difficult to breathe, but you stay there, tucked in your safe place. You remain silent like that for a while, feeling the warmth of the water wash away the dirt into the plumbing as everything he has said sorts itself out in your head like a jigsaw puzzle.

Last month, your life and everything you knew as stable came crashing down after a mission gone wrong. The bloodied faces of the civilians who died because of you haunt you every so often at night. This resulted in your demotion in rank as a sorceress and a six-month suspension. No missions. You couldn't set foot in the academy, which equaled no financial stability, not being able to help your parents pay for the house, much less pay for your own apartment.

You thought things couldn't get any worse until, a few days later, your boyfriend of two years broke up with you, leaving you adrift in a sea of unpleasant emotions that you couldn't control. So having Satoru here in front of you after days of not going out to see sunlight and having no contact with other human beings, feeling his presence under your body is overwhelming, almost unreal. You allow yourself to sob quietly, being cradled and coddled in his arms as he turns you to press your body much closer to his.

He cooing to you, murmuring sweet words that only he can say and that you long to hear.

"I'm sorry I left you when you needed me most. I had to pretend that the disappearance of a couple of higher-ups wasn't related to you. I would never put you in danger," he says once you've finished your shower and the jet of water has stopped.

Satoru holds your cheeks, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing to him. Inevitably, more tears spill down your cheeks and he hurries to wipe them away with his thumbs.

"Sh. I'm here now," he murmurs, keeping his gaze fixed on you, on your lips. "Can I kiss you?"

Your throat is still in a lump, but you nod slowly giving him the permission he needs and Satoru doesn't wait to place his mouth on yours taking you into a trance where you feel only his soft lips molding yours, purring as he pushes his mouth against yours. You feel him exploring every space, roaming every nook and cranny as the kiss intensifies accompanied by a soft chant of moans that grow louder each time.

Your ribs are pressed into his palms, his fingers defining the contours as he slowly pushes you against the wet wall.

"I missed you," he admits between kisses, finally pulling away to rest on the line of your neck and leaving a mark with his teeth.

. . .

Silently, Satoru guides you into the room, holding your hand the whole time. He helps himself by the dim light of the night lamp to move naked around the room. Seeing him act the way he used to, when everything was fine, fills your chest with nostalgia.

After a moment, he gets an extra towel from your suitcase along with essential oils that you always carry with you and with a kiss on the forehead followed by a brief giggle, he asks you to sit on the floor next to the bed to help you dry your hair. It's the first time in a long time that you don't have to worry about feeling guilty or sad, because all you can feel is him, his fingers, the way he interrupts his massages on your skull to kiss your face.

Satoru holds you against his chest all night. Your naked bodies melt as one under the silk sheets, he presses you against him as if he fears you will run away. His legs entwined like vines keep you safe.

In the middle of the night satoru turns his back on you releasing you from his prison and letting you be the one to protect him now, you circle his waist and hide your face in his silky clean hair, the strands tickle your face but you refuse to move away from the safety this moment brings you, the smell of your shampoo on him has never smelled so good.

"Satoru." You call out to him in a whisper so low you wonder if you've woken him. You don't want to interrupt his sleep and are surprised when he mumbles a Hm? Are you okay? "I didn't mean to wake you," you reply.

"I wasn't sleeping." This time he turns his body to look at you, holding his face with one hand while the other is on your waist, keeping you still. From the tired look and the slight dark circles under his eyes that begin to form, you wonder when was the last time he had a good night's sleep. "What's wrong?"

What you're about to say to him makes you embarrassed for some reason.

"You mentioned you wouldn't let anyone talk to your wife like that…" you blurt out the sentence, letting it float into the room unfinished. Hearing your words immediately makes him smile and you feel his fingers tighten on your skin.

"Yeah. I said that," he states proudly.

"You were serious?"

"There's nothing that would make me happier. So yes, you will one day be my wife when you're ready."

You are driven by emotion to throw yourself on top of him, pressing your body to his and melting into an embrace that neither of you wants to break first.

notes. yeah, he kills people but he's my little meow meow and have you considered that he's a good husband too? yeah that's what I thought.

#wr #jjk drabbles #gojo drabbles #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #cw yandere #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu Kaisen x

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buckets-and-trees · 3 months

Text

The Only Way of Knowing You [Nick Fowler x Reader]

Title: The Only Way of Knowing You Characters/Pairings: leshy!Nick Fowler x curvy female!Reader Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: When you visit a cabin, you're drawn more and more to the forest, the flora and fauna, and a handsome stranger you cross paths with in the woods.

Content Warnings: explicit smut - nipple play, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, initial consent to questionable/dubious consent ending, kidnapping, intimidation, implied stalking and explicit stalking, human to monster transformation, monster fucking

Logistical Notes: Very belated, but this is my addition to the Enchanted Birthday Fest and my humble gift to all of you who come around and read what I write. Incorporating Mania (obsessive love - stalking) for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love challenge. Thank you @goldylions and @sgt-seabass for blasting this with your beta energy. It certainly benefitted from your poking, prodding, and polishing.

Narrative Notes: There's a lot of leshy lore that's evolved over time since differing versions existed across Europe and you've got modern media takes. I took pieces that stuck out to me as I combed through. The most significant trait I adopted was that a leshy king could shape shift into human or animal and would adopt disguise to hide, adapt, or even lure people into the forest.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You gasped and stopped on the trail.

“A dog,” you whispered to no one but yourself, a grin splitting across your face.

The wilderness of the forest around you rose into a small, banked ridge on the left. You had only just heard the rustle of leaves that drew your attention over to that side to see the creature. You couldn’t tell the breed for sure – all dark fur, pointed ears, looking something between a husky and a wolf – but with him being so calm and willing to come this close to the path when he’d undoubtedly heard you walking, you assumed he couldn’t be too wild or feral. He had piercing blue eyes that locked with yours.

You were so tempted to try to call him over, but if he was wild, it was probably better not to, and if he belonged to someone, you didn’t want to lead him away from where he needed to go.

So, after another beat, you continued along your path.

After the four hour drive to your destination with some of the team from your office, as soon as you had unloaded and eaten lunch, you had been eager to get away to stretch your legs and to have some time away from everyone else, and you had some time before the rest of the team arrived for the work retreat your boss had put together. You had six days of training, strategizing, and team bonding ahead of you with a professional consultant and facilitator flown in who had built the agenda. There were breaks built throughout the day, and as you set off for this first walk, you imagined both the physical movement and the time away from the group would help keep you focused, energized, and from actually strangling your co-worker Rachel who regularly burst into song during casual conversation.

You saw the dog again as you took the same path the next day when your group took a mid-morning break. This time, he walked alongside your path, keeping his distance off to the side, but only kept pace with you for about five minutes before wandering off.

You were hopeful to see him when you headed out in the afternoon.

But instead of the dog, you encountered a man in almost the same area, approaching you on the path.

The man was dressed in sturdy hiking boots, dark jeans, a dark green flannel over a white shirt, and a tan jacket over that. He was tall, well-built, with short brown hair, and entirely too handsome a person to encounter in real life, especially with his devastatingly blue eyes – eyes that were the same color as the dog.

You groaned internally for comparing his eyes to the dog’s.

“Hello,” he said, nodding at you a few paces before you were about to pass each other.

“Hello,” you managed to return – it was mostly automatic, but the intensity of his gaze almost prevented you from the customary politeness of fellow trailwalkers.

After he passed, you shook your head. No need to be flustered by the momentary passing of a stranger.

You looked back over your shoulder, and then your heart thudded to discover that he was looking back at you, too. He smirked, turned, and kept along his way.

You shook your head at yourself and then kept on your way.

The walking path through the forest was narrow in parts, wider in others, and rambled on for a mile or so before it split, allowing its travelers to eventually circle clockwise or counter-clockwise around a still, blue body of water that was bigger than a pond but not quite large enough to be classified as a lake. The trees ran right down to the water in many areas, and the path, as it circled, sometimes came very close to its edges, and in other places only came within ten or fifteen meters of the shore.

On day three, you saw the man in the morning, and the dog in the afternoon.

The man, the same you saw before, came towards you after he'd done a circle around the lake. You reached the two forks before having to directly pass him, to which he waved and said hello, the same casual niceties.

In the afternoon, the dog approached you slowly but directly, and you knelt happily and held out your hand to encourage him to close the gap. He did, and after a quick sniff, let you pet him and scratch his ears.

“No collar?” you asked as you pet and admired his smooth, shiny coat.

After a minute, you stood and said, “You seem pretty familiar with this forest, well-fed, and so friendly. I don’t need to worry about you, do I?”

He circled you quickly, wagged his tail, and you laughed. “You want to join me for my walk this time?”

He trotted ahead a few steps, then looked back at you and waited.

You laughed. “I guess I’ll join you for this walk then.”

The two of you kept pace with each other all the way around the small lake, and then shortly after you got back to the main forest length, he trotted off the path into the forest again with only a small look back and a happy bark before bounding away.

That evening, because you had gone on so many walks, the rest of the group at the cabin decided to take an evening stroll around the lake. The planked wooden path made an adventure after dark doable enough. You didn’t see either of the strangers – dog or man – but there were a few times you had the keen sense you were being watched. In the dark it was impossible to tell, but the feeling came and went.

The next morning, you made your way down the deep forest path without encountering anyone and took the right fork to make your way around the lake.

At nearly the same place the dog had approached you the afternoon before, the man came striding your way from off the path.

“Hello,” he greeted as soon as he’d stepped out of the trees.

It was evident he intended to speak to you.

“Hello,” you said, trying to be friendly, but unsure how this would unfold, and a little nervous over engaging with the stranger.

Your heartbeat sped up the closer he got, but not because he was still a stranger, but because you were reminded he was altogether too handsome of a stranger. This was made even more obvious than your brief passings the previous two days, as now you could only stand still and watch as he approached you.

You remembered he was tall, but today he seemed taller. Those blue eyes had you rooted to the spot where you stood, and his face had a small but easy smile. You tried in vain to keep your heart from racing the closer he got.

“I’m Nick,” he offered, once he was close enough for conversation.

You gave your name in response.

“Nice to actually meet you,” he said as he stepped up onto the boardwalk. “You’re not from around here. Staying in one of the vacation cabins?” he guessed.

You nodded. “And you are from around here?” you surmised. “Do you live here? Work here? Both?”

“I suppose you could say both.” A calm but crips breeze swept through the trees around you, rustling through the leaves.

“Oh, are you the caretaker?”

“Guardian, caretaker, king of the forest,” he joked.

You laughed, and it was an easy laugh.

He echoed your laugh. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, of course, I do,” you said.

“If you let me join you, maybe I can prove my place here in the forest, share some of the history of the land, and some of my expert knowledge.” He raised his brow in a questioning look.

You were torn equally between hesitance and intrigue, but you were more unsure of how to decline, nor did you actually want to, so you nodded, and the corner of his mouth ticked up. He swept his arm to the side, gesturing at the path, and as you started walking, he fell right in step with you.

“So, what brought you to the forest?” he asked.

You explained how your boss had booked the large corporate retreat cabin for your team, planning many days of bonding and strategy conversations and leadership workshops with the consultant flown in from New York City.

As you walked together, he made good on his promise to tell you more about the forest and the lake. He pointed out some of the flora and fauna, showing his care and consideration for the wildlife and growth of the wilderness.

“It must be nice living out here.”

“You would like it.”

You looked over at him, finding he was already watching you, and then turned your head back to the path. “I think I might. Being out here the past few days has me contemplating quitting my job, selling off most of my stuff, and just finding a small cabin in the woods and writing or something.”

“You should.”His concentrated attention both unnerved you and put you at ease at the same time. It was a strange feeling. There was something within you that wanted more time with him like this, but it was silly to want. This was only your first conversation with him. You wouldn’t be spending day after day stumbling into walks with him any more than you would be abandoning your city life to embrace a secluded existence in a cabin in the forest.

But it might be nice, you thought.

“If only,” you finally sighed.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “When are you supposed to leave?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

He hummed in thought. “That seems like an awfully long cabin retreat for a team of colleagues.”

You laughed. “It certainly is. My boss has too much money and got very excited. It’s mostly a good office of people, and there are about ten of us here, but I definitely like my time away from the group – we’ve been encouraged to spend our breaks however we need.”

“And you took to your walks in the woods.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed and smiled softly. “Oh, actually, do you know about the black dog running around out here? I’ve seen him every other day, but not yet today.”

“He caught your heart, didn’t he?”

You grinned and nodded. “Does he have owners out here, or is he wild? He doesn’t have a collar.”

“No owners.”

“Not unlike you?”

“Oh, have I caught your heart, too?”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you tried not to let your pace falter. “I–”

He gave a chuckle, but he also let his fingers brush against yours as you continued to walk side by side. “Don’t worry, if I didn’t want to see you, I would know how to go unnoticed by you in this forest.”

“Oh.” It was a small response, especially compared to the burst of warmth that bloomed in your heart, but you weren’t quite sure how to respond. You were flattered with the flirting and his insinuation that he did want to see you. A whisper in the back of your mind wondered how many years he must have walked these woods to know its secrets and be so confident that he could wander it undetected, but he gestured for you to listen to the faint call of a pair of birds nearby. He identified them as veery thrushes, and then you were carried along into learning about them and some of the other animals that inhabited this area of the forest during the rest of your short morning walk.

Nick came across you walking again in the afternoon. He told you more about the forest and its history, but more and more he started to ask more questions about you.

You liked that he asked about you.

It seemed impossible that this unbelievably tall (was he even taller than he was before? Surely he wasn’t), dark, handsome man was so keen on your company, but you couldn’t help but take to him, and to the warmth of the attention he shined on you like the sun that filtered through the leaves of the trees to bathe the rest of the flora in the forest.

It may have been silly to dream about him that night when you went to sleep, but you had no real control over that, and although this whole excursion was for work, a small, inconsequential crush on someone you would never see again when you went home was fine.

The next morning, you didn’t run into him during your walk, but you were happy to run into your furry companion again, and he stayed right at your side while you took the loop around the lake. You were only a little sad there was no sign of Nick, but even though he clearly spent a lot of time there, you couldn’t expect him to always be in the woods.

So, when you were just starting along the path for your walk and hear footsteps coming up behind you, you eagerly looked over your shoulder, only to see two men walking some twenty to thirty yards behind you. You sighed and kept walking. You hadn’t seen a great deal of people on the trail over the past few days, but these weren’t the first strangers, as it was an area with enough scattered cabins throughout the forest to merit the establishment of the sturdy planked path in the first place.

But as you continued on, the men seemed to keep pace with you, speeding up when you did, and slowing down and maintaining some of the distance when you tested it, and that made you nervous. You would feel better even just to see the wild dog so you could call him to you. You were sure he would deter the men. But there was no sign of him either.

As you approached the fork that created the lake loop for the path, you didn’t know which to hope for – that they would take the other path and you would have to potentially pass them, or take the same one as you and you could hope that they would keep their distance.

They went the same way as you.

And they started to close the distance.

You thought you were imagining it at first, but when you increased your pace, theirs quickened even more, and there was no more of the hum of talking between them.

You didn’t want to panic and run. They both had a height advantage with longer legs, and if you could simply continue to walk more quickly, you could at least stave off the need to run until there was no more choice – because you were sure the second you ran, they would follow suit, and you didn’t know how long you’d last.

Especially now that your heart was already racing.

“Hey sweet thing,” one of them called out.

You focused on keeping your quick pace and didn’t look back.

“Nice day for a walk,” the same gruff voice added.

Still you refused to engage. You expected this now and then in the city, but it wasn’t supposed to happen out here. You didn’t have a phone to suddenly get on and call someone or keys in your pocket to thread through your fingers for makeshift protection.

“Nice day for more than a walk, don’t you think?” the second man chimed in.

“Yeah, maybe a little afternoon delight.”

Your skin crawled.

“A little fucking,” the second one jeered.

Maybe you did need to run.

And then suddenly at a bend in the path, you turned and there he was.

Nick.

Your heart leapt in relief, and you rushed to him.

He had to have instantly seen the panic in your eyes as his own blue eyes changed immediately into a dark storm, and he looked beyond you as he quickly strode forward to meet you. He saw the men immediately as they, too, turned around the bend, and you heard their footsteps slow immediately.

Nick pulled you into his side, wrapping a protective arm around you.

“Afternoon,” one of the men said, both of them nodding, trying to pass off casual greetings as if they hadn’t been closing in on you, making their intentions clear.

“Turn around, pack up, and leave this forest,” Nick said, voice flat and threatening.

“Hey! Look, man,” the other started, but Nick cut him off.

“Turn around, pack up,” he repeated, enunciating each word with more fury, “never come back.”

They stopped walking, putting them only ten yards away.

“Now,” Nick growled.

A ripple of fear shot through you at his tone, and it wasn’t directed at you. There was a sudden groaning and crashing of trees in the distance that only added to the tension of the moment, and then the two men turned around and retreated.

“I know where you’re staying. Don’t make the mistake of thinking my directions are idle or that I won’t check to make sure you’re gone,” he spoke loudly enough for them to hear as they got further away.

With them no longer in sight, Nick turned his full attention to you, taking both your hands in his. “You alright?”

You took a deep breath in then let it out to release the tension from the fear-driven adrenaline and nodded.

He murmured your name, pressing in concern, ducking slightly to gaze directly into your eyes.

You smiled softly at his worry, the seeds that bloomed earlier in your heart coming to life and blooming a bit more. “I’m fine now,” you reassured him, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Really,” you promised. “Not the first intimidating creeps I’ve ever encountered.”

“Okay.” His face relaxed, but only a fraction, and you had the impression it was only to help ease your tension. “If you’re sure.”

You nodded.

He dropped your hands, and you reminded yourself not to let your face drop as he did.

“Sorry I didn’t meet up with you earlier, I-“

You cut him off, “I wasn’t expecting you to meet up with me, and I don’t always get to steal away for these walks at the same time.”

He nodded. “I know. But I want to show you why time got away from me.”

“Okay.”

His face split into a bright smile. “Follow me,” he said, turning around and trekking into the trees.

You trailed behind him as the ground gently sloped toward the lake. The trees and underbrush were abundant yet thin enough to allow the two of you to pass through. The wooden path varied in how close it was to the lake as it wound around, and here it was less than a minute before you could see the water’s edge. Nick abruptly stopped and put his arm out for you to also stop.

Since he’d been walking so quickly, you did bump right up against his arm with a small mumbled, “sorry,” and he turned his head to smile. Then he turned to look ahead and pointed to a cluster of rocks right at the shoreline.

You squinted to study them, and then you gasped when two little furry heads popped up over the top of the rocks.

“Otters!” you whispered.

“Yes,” Nick confirmed. “Freshwater river otters. I think we’ve got a clan of at least four that have only appeared today in the lake. Probably migrated down the river from the lake further up. They’ve been getting a bigger tourist draw up there, and I imagine they don’t want to be constantly disturbed by humans encroaching on their habitat.”

He took slow, measured, unassuming steps closer, and you tentatively followed. The two otters both perched up higher on the rocks, giving tiny yelps.

Nick motioned for you to kneel as he did. He held out his hand toward the pair of mammals.

“They’re a curious and friendly species,” he said, and even as he said the words, the two darted up and over the rocks, coming closer by a few feet before pausing. The slightly larger one gave a little trill and took a couple more hops forward. Its companion sauntered right up next to it, but then took a few more steps forward, bopped its nose against Nick’s hand, huffed and turned away, darting right down the bank and into the water, gliding smoothly away. The other came forward, gave Nick’s outstretched hand a little more of a sniff, then turned its head to you, and edged your way. You quickly but carefully stretched your hand out, received a couple of sniffs, and then this otter also snorted and trotted away and into the water, trilling as it slipped into the clear water.

“No fish, no interest,” Nick said, and the two of you laughed.

He moved to sit on the ground, and you sat next to him. The pair of otters re-emerged, swam up to shore, and dove back in and out of the water frequently as the two of you watched and talked.

You only stayed there for a short space of time, and then Nick seemed to sense without you needing to prompt him that it was time to get back to your walk. He stood and gave you a hand up. He held onto your fingers for just an extra moment, looking at your hands together, before letting go and brushing himself off. You did the same, and then fell into step with him, heading back to the path.

Easy conversation, just like the day before, continued to flow between you. He appeared to have endless questions about you, and again his rapt attention was its own warm, addictive rush, and that thing in your heart continued to grow, vines starting to sneak out of your heart and around your chest.

Suddenly he stopped, and you stopped another step ahead and turned to look back at him. “What is it?”

“We’re at the spot that leads up to the cabin your group is staying in,” he answered, a broad smirk on his face.

“Oh,” your cheeks heated, and you ducked your head to laugh. “Oops.”

You didn’t want your last walk with him to suddenly be over.

“You’re quite taken with all of this, aren’t you? The forest calls to you.”

You let out a wistful sigh and looked back up at him. Damn those impossibly deep blue eyes. You were overcome with a terrible ache that radiated from the base of your throat and the top of your chest, and you desperately tried to tamp down the thick emotion.

“But I have to go home tomorrow.”

“Come walk with me tonight.”

You bit your lip.

“Come on,” he urged you. “It’s your last night, and it’s a full moon. You have to see the forest bathed in the full moon's light. Come with me.”

“Yes,” you heard the word tumble out of your mouth, unable to deny him.

His eyes darkened and sparkled. “I promise you’ll see things you’ve never seen before.”

Though Nick wasn’t far from your thoughts, you focused well enough on your last evening with the group, engaging in dinner and the evening’s bonding activities. Wine and mocktails were poured for a final night looking up at the stars around a fire in the firepit on the balcony, and you made sure to enjoy that time, too. You had liked some of your coworkers before the retreat, but now you had a better understanding and appreciation for all of them.

However, once it got closer to ten, you anxiously started taking stock of the minutes passing away further into the night. Two of your group said goodnight at ten, but that was too early. You determined you would do well to stay with the balcony group until at least half-ten so you didn’t get too anxious about seeing Nick later.

At ten-thirty, a few more peeled off from the group, and so you retired to your room so that your timely departure didn’t seem unnatural to anyone.

You showered and messed with your hair for a bit but didn’t bother with makeup since it was after dark. You put on your favorite pair of joggers, a crewneck, and good walking shoes. You certainly hadn’t anticipated taking to the forest with so many walks each day, it wasn’t anything like how you were at home – busy with work and taking care of your life in the city – but it had been so natural to take to the outdoors while you were here. This final walk before your party went home in the morning wasn’t going to be like any of the others. You tried not to feel foolish for indulging in a walk at midnight with the hulking man with the most captivating blue eyes you’d ever seen who could easily take your breath away and whisk you off your feet.

But you had said yes because when else would you ever do something like this?

The answer was never.

And there was no harm in taking a handsome man up on his offer for a midnight stroll in the moonlight.

You put on the watch your grandmother had given you and the simple necklace you typically wore. They weren’t much, and you told yourself you didn’t need to dress up anyway, but they were small touches all the same.

Looking briefly in the mirror, you smoothed your hand down over the front of your shirt and took a deep breath. It’s fine, you thought. He’s seen you plenty before now, and it’s going to be dark, and it’s only a walk anyway. You checked your watch, and it was just a few minutes before eleven-thirty, which is when Nick had said to meet him.

You slipped quietly out of your room, down the stairs, and out the back door. The full moon was bright out here so far away from any city lights, illuminating the familiar path from the cabin that would take you down to the main boardwalk trail.

So many times Nick had simply appeared in the forest, but he was waiting for you right at the end of the path. Your heart raced just a little as his lips turned up in a smile.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“You came.”

He studied your face intently. You were unsure what he was looking for and simply focused on returning your gaze as unassuming as possible, telling your heart to settle and stop beating so fast. Yes, he made you feel things, but one of those things over the past few days had also been a sense of calm and safety in his presence, and you concentrated on that.

After another moment, finally, you responded with a simple, “I said I would.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “Then let’s go.”

You fell easily into step with him, the trail so familiar now, though it had been less than a week, and knowing this ramble down to the lake and back, your chest started to feel thick in anticipation of missing it already. As you walked and talked, you thought you were keeping pace with Nick, but maybe you were more tired than you thought because it seemed like you were working to stay in stride with him as you hadn’t had to before. Either that or his legs were longer than before, but that – of course – was an impossible thought.

You shook your head.

Nick paused and turned. “What are you shaking your head at?” he asked. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” His tone was soft and teasing.

“Sorry, I got distracted, and my imagination got a little carried away with impossibilities.”

He cocked his head slightly. “Maybe more is possible in this forest than you might think.” His eyes danced with a hint of mystery.

“Is that so?” You played into his mischief.

He leaned closer. “This is an old forest, and it’s a full moon. Anything could happen on a night like tonight.”

Your body seemed drawn into him, leaning closer as well. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he whispered, and his eyes flicked down to your lips.

The moment hung between you. You tilted your head up, and your eyes fluttered closed. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

And then he tugged on your hand, yanking you out of the moment. “Come on, pretty girl, we’re almost there.”

You sighed, letting out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

But with how tightly his hand held yours as he led you off the boardwalk and into the trees, you didn’t feel too disappointed.

He was quiet now, but he also kept you close as he led you through this part of the forest. The trees were more thickly woven together here, with girthier trunks, and you couldn’t help but feel how they were older the further you wandered in. There was no trace of a path now, but Nick kept a confident pace, clearly knowing each inch of the forest intimately, and his surety allowed you to let yourself be swept away further and further along.

His steps were swift but nearly silent, and you tried to walk as quietly as possible. The sounds of the forest at night were soft but present – soft wind whistling through the trees, the song of nocturnal birds, and the chirping of crickets. The light filtering through the branches was minimal, and it had to be tricking you because you knew he was tall, but it felt like he was somehow taller tonight. It had to be the nature of how you were keeping so close just behind him, focused on the square of his shoulder and the gentle pull of his arm leading you.

He wasn’t taller now than he was earlier today, was he?

“Just up ahead,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at you, one of the easy smiles that made your heart sigh painted on his face.

His pace quickened, and your anticipation built as you hurried to keep up.

Seconds before the tree line broke, you heard the rippling sounds of water before emerging into a glade. Nick stopped a few steps into the clearing, and you came to stand right next to him. The first thing to draw your eye was a stream running into a small pool. The meadow on the side of the stream where you stood sloped gently down to the water, and it was covered in blankets of wood anemone, reaching right down to the bank and springing up and sprawling away again on the other side. The trees surrounding the glade were certainly some of the tallest you’d seen in the forest, and they rose as giant sentinels toward the inky black sky, which was studded with stars around the bright full moon.

As you looked up and around, the coupling of the simplicity and the majesty of it all had you enraptured, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment.

Nick brought your hand up to his face, pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and your heart stuttered in your chest. You turned to look at him. His eyes almost appeared to glow an even brighter blue.

“I said it earlier, but this forest calls to you, doesn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

You did.

He dropped your hand, and you let it fall to your side.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered.

You inhaled slowly, letting the breath fill your belly and lungs, fresh, clean, and calm. You tipped your head back, your face craving the moonlight in that moment.

Although you didn’t hear him move, suddenly you felt the warmth of Nick standing behind you. “Now, listen and feel,” he murmured softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You shivered but remained rooted to the spot. His fingers brushed along the backs of your hands and began to trail slowly up your arms. Your whole body was humming at his touch.

He pressed one soft kiss to your neck, and you sighed and let your neck fall to the side. When his hands landed on your shoulders, he pressed another soft kiss at the bottom of your neck, then turned you to face him.

“You should stay with me.”

Before you could respond, he took your head in both his hands, cradling your jaw. He searched your eyes for any hesitancy, but you knew you couldn’t summon any, nor did you want to. Instead, you pushed up on your toes, seeking his lips, and he met you halfway, claiming your lips with his.

Your hands came up to clutch at his wrists as he held your face, and you leaned in, longing to feel your body close to his. His tongue teased at the seam of your mouth, and you let him in, allowing the kiss to deepen, to sear into your very soul. His left hand moved, quickly coming to press at the small of your back, drawing you flush against him. One of your arms wound around his broad chest, and the other came up to mirror how he was cupping your cheek, feeling the trace of stubble along his jaw with your fingers. You stroked his tongue with yours, moaning into the kiss, and he reciprocated stroke for stroke. You quickly became so consumed by his kiss, feeling lightheaded but not sure if it was him or a lack of air, because you couldn’t tell if you were still breathing. It was a fevered kiss driven by something you’d never felt so strongly before, and you needed more.

Nick sank to his knees, and you went naturally down with him. He sat back on his heels, and you followed, perching in his lap. He held you there, your core over his groin, for a delicious moment, and then suddenly he lifted you up and laid you softly but swiftly onto the soft flowery bed of the meadow, his lips never leaving yours. You gasped and giggled against his mouth.

“What a lovely sound,” he said tenderly. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a satisfied grin on his face.

Whether it was smug or sweet, you weren’t sure, and you felt your cheeks growing warm under his hungry gaze and his soft praise.

“I wonder what other lovely sounds I can draw from you,” he added as both of his hands moved to your hips. He began kissing you again, having only given you a moment of reprieve, then his hands slid slowly up your waist, skimming up over your ribs, pushing up the fabric of your sweatshirt. When his thumbs brushed up against the underswell of your breasts, he pressed back and forth a few times, teasing you, drawing a little whimper, before he let his thumbs run up and over your nipples. They were both peaked, and you shivered in pleasure, the teasing through the fabric of your bra its own unique sensation, but you were eager for more, so you moved your hands to begin quickly unbuttoning his flannel. He took the hint, helping you by shrugging off his jacket, and when he leaned up for a moment to pull off his flannel and remove the t-shirt he had on beneath it, so you shifted beneath him to pull off your sweatshirt and reach for the clasp of your bra, tossing that to the side as well.

You hadn’t hesitated to rid yourself of your clothes, but you were hit with the rush of baring your chest to him now as – with his own clothing discarded – he froze and looked down at you from above. You flushed with heat, but as you moved one hand to tentatively cover yourself, he grabbed it in his, drew it up to his mouth, and kissed your palm.

You were aware of every imperfection as his eyes roved over your body, but when he looked into your eyes and said, “gorgeous,” his face was so serious, so hungry, you didn’t question that he meant it.

He lowered himself back down over you, supporting himself by planting one forearm on the ground next to your side, and this time his lips sought your chest. He kissed down your sternum, then took one breast in his mouth, and palmed the other with his free hand. You moaned as he sucked one nipple and rolled and teased the other with his fingers. You arched beneath him, your body responsive to his diligent ministrations. He switched to the other breast, flicking his tongue over the nipple before lapping and sucking at it. You hadn’t cum before from nipple play alone, but he had you wondering if you might as the pleasure mounted.

You trembled and whimpered beneath him, and as you began to writhe more desperately, he took his mouth off your breast with an audible pop. He moved back up your body, and his hand cupped your face again, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, urging you to open your eyes and look at him.

“Tell me you never thought about it, about staying here with me after I left you earlier today,” he said.

You were already breathless, or else the powerful drive in his deep blue eyes would have stolen your breath once again.

“You must let me have you,” he implored.

You couldn’t answer, but only because you were overcome by the desire in his eyes. For you.

Your name fell from his lips, and his voice was soft, deep, and controlled, but you could still feel the edge of the desperate plea as he uttered your name.

“Yes,” you keened, and you rocked your hips up against his.

“Say the words,” he said. “Say my name and tell me I can have you.”

He slipped his hand down, hooked two fingers into your waistband, and pulled teasingly along the edge from your hip to just below your navel. The torturous movement along your soft skin only drove the hunger that was building for more.

He had to know how he was mounting and playing with the anticipation. But if he needed you to say it, you’d say anything to get what you wanted right now under the light of the full moon from this inimitable figure of a man, nearly unreal in his beauty.

“Nick, you can have me!” You cried.

He wasted no time in pulling your trousers and underwear down in one go. You tried to kick off your shoes, but slightly struggling to do so, his hands helped remove your shoes and socks more deftly, and he was able to more easily toss it all away. And as your legs settled back down on either side of him as he knelt above you, you realized he was suddenly somehow as naked as you – though you didn’t know how he managed that so quickly, so quickly it felt like magic. Everything about tonight felt illusory, and yet it was all tangible and indisputable, and you gave yourself over to it. When else would you ever find yourself in such an enchanted set of circumstances like this ever again?

So what if it felt like a dream?

You took a deep breath and let your fingers tangle in the grass and the stems of the wood anemone. Your eyes traveled up his thighs to a cock so thick and long and hard for you, then up further, over his hips, defined abs, chiseled chest, and broad shoulders, and you whined. Every inch of him ignited heat through your body, and when your eyes met his again, your pulse stuttered.

You could dream like this for one night.

Keeping his eyes locked on yours, Nick settled back on his haunches and pulled your thighs up over his, drawing you up over him, angling your lower half up as an offering, and his piercing cerulean gaze moved to your core, fully on display. His fingers brushed over your lower stomach, the touch so light it tickled, and you jerked, but his other hand held your hip firmly in place. His fingers parted your folds without hesitation, and he licked his lips.

“Such a pretty, wet cunt, my little nymph,” he said, and you felt both shy being so exposed to him, and desperate for him.

“Nymph?” you couldn’t help but question, surprised by the pet name.

“Mhmm,” Nick hummed. He traced your wet folds with one finger, in no rush. “You belong to this forest.” He spread your wetness along those lips with the attention of an artist to his canvas. Then he slipped two fingers inside your cunt.

You gasped, and your eyes fluttered closed.

He pushed them all the way in, then gave a few slow, shallow thrusts in and out.

You never wanted to wake up from this, but you needed more.

“Nick, please!”

He withdrew his fingers and then pressed them to your lips. “Taste your sweet nectar, nymph.”

The digits easily slipped into your mouth, and the urge to suck was a near primal reaction. He applied gentle pressure on your tongue as you sucked, and it only drove the craving in your core further. You were entirely lucid, and yet you felt thoroughly intoxicated by him, by everything around you.

“Open your eyes,” he said, and you did.

You swore he could see into your soul when he looked at you so intensely, but rather than fear, it soothed your nerves. It also more deeply stoked your desire for him, and as much as you wanted to linger in this moment, there was an undeniable pull you couldn’t ignore.

“Kiss me,” you breathed.

He shifted to lean down over you, remaining rooted between your thighs but shifting forward so you were nearly chest to chest. He bore his weight on his forearms, caging you in. As he settled, lips only a breath away from you, you felt the weight of his large, thick cock rest on your stomach. You lifted your head to pull him into the kiss you wanted. You ached for him to fill you up, but you also wanted to give everything just to this kiss for a few beats longer.

It was like he was drinking you in. One of your arms came up around his back, the other brushed up along the side of his arm, seeking and ultimately finding his hand, and your fingers instinctively entwined together.

He moved his other hand down briefly to guide the head of his cock to your weeping hole, and you gave a little moan into his mouth as his head entered you.

As he seated his cock fully inside of you, the tip nudging your cervix, you had to break off your kiss to concentrate on breathing. Nick dropped his forehead to yours, seemingly unable to refuse some form of intimate closeness as he rocked into you again. “You can feel it,” he spoke, the warmth of his breath still close to your mouth.

“Yes,” you panted. Your legs wrapped around his torso. He resumed thrusting, slow, deep thrusts.

“I can feel it, too,” he murmured along your jaw. “You’re answering the call of the forest.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, hardly focused on what he was saying, but the deep warmth of his voice made the words swell through your mind.

He continued his unhurried thrusts, almost methodical in nature, and after a few more minutes, his cock began to swell inside you. And it continued to grow.

You moaned – or groaned – you couldn’t decipher if what you were feeling was real and whether it was painful or pure ecstasy. Your hand clasped his more tightly, and his answering squeeze was accompanied by tendrils of vines sprouting and circling around your hand and down around your wrist.

“What?” Your eyes flew open, and then you gasped. “Nick!”

He was transforming before your eyes. His face remained familiar, but a crown of horns appeared around his head, and emerald moss and glossy leaves intermingled and sprouted throughout his dark hair. Two enormous, magnificent antlers had emerged from his temple and were still slowly growing, just as he was still slowly growing inside you as he continued his steady thrusts. His shoulders broadened, and you knew he was growing in stature.

You trembled beneath him, tears springing to your eyes, in danger of spilling over.

“I told you, my little nymph: I’m the king and guardian of this forest – it speaks to me like it wants to speak to you. You’re answering the call, and I can’t,” he paused to groan, and with a shiver, you felt the ridge of his spine shift from skin to a supple tree bark. “It’s midnight, and with you giving yourself to me and the forest, I can’t hold back my true form.”

He began to thrust more quickly in and out of your cunt, a few of the strokes a little erratic. You whimpered, overwhelmed, and a few tears spilled over your cheeks.

“No, none of that,” he scolded, but kissed away the tears. “You didn’t want to leave, and now you don’t have to, nor can you.”

His free hand moved between you and found your pulsing, puffy clit, applying immediate, furious little circles that refused to let you feel anything but pleasure in response to his ministrations. His lips reclaimed yours once again, and as your body continued to tremble, his thrusts sped up even more, your channel never more full, making the mounting wave of pain and pleasure so exquisite as the waves grew that you let out a sob as your orgasm crashed over you.

Unrelenting, as your cunt contracted around him, Nick more demandingly sought his own release. He moved both hands to grip your ribs below your wrists and railed into you with abandon, punching the air from your lungs over and over, and ultimately pushing you into a rushed second orgasm only seconds before he roared his own ecstasy, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep loads of his seed inside of you, a warmth you could feel permeating you.

And then Nick petted your face, showering kisses softly over your lips, cheeks, and eyelids before ultimately resting his forehead on yours, and gently caressing your neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you, for this, and now you're mine forever.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

If you enjoyed this at all, read the other two fics from the Enchanted Birthday Fest! They're both exquisite!

#nick fowler #sebastian stan #nick fowler smut #teratophillia #terato #female reader #nick fowler x female reader #tw: dubcon #sebastian stan smut #aspen wrote something #aspensenchantedbday

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fanfic-gallery · 3 months

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love at first dive

merman! neuvillete x gn human! reader

|| fluff, fluff and more fluff

» manager's note: happy valentine's day to my single babies and not forgetting my lovebirds out there too; i remembered i didn't make a valentine's fic last yr- so so sorry about that ヽ(*。>Д<)o゜hope this small little fic makes up for it thooo, and with that said - hope you enjoy, love ya <3

"there you are!"

marine eyes rolled towards that blaring voice of yours - there you stood, by the shores, arms crossed. he couldn't help but smile at the illusion of a miniature 'you' by the bay waiting on him. what nostalgia, he thought; reminiscing a time where you two were trapped in the same position months ago

"worry not, sir- i'll get you out of there!"

there he laid, basking in the blue hues of the moonlight; silver locks flowing within the grasp of the lake, surrounding his head like halo; enjoying the eerie silence of the pine forest yet there you were - scrambling to fix a life float with worn out rope to get to him. you launched the thing into the waters, nudging it forward with a large pole.

head rose from the surface of the waters, webbed fingers softly griping at the inflatable, jolting as it drags him towards the shore.

"are you alright-"

he felt the atmosphere tensing, your eyes lingering at the soft-sculpting of his features; his glittering skin, fin-like ears, broad frame.

"...is something the matter, little one?"

"ah- i-it's nothing- it's just-"

"...just?"

"nevermind- l-let's get you out of here-"

he shook his head as you stuck your two arms out for him.

"can you not move? are you injured?!"

"...far from it..."

filed nails trailed up your palms...

"WAH-!"

SPLASH!

...before pulling you into the shallow depths; yet, you didn't seem to be in any state of panic - bright eyes staring at him starry and full of shock. he could only guess that you took notice of the shimmering scales across his his fish tail, colours of blue and purple in patches covering his figure.

so mesmerised that you barely saw the bubbles your were releasing from your parted lips; the merman smiled softly at the sight, right hand clasping against yours while the other held at your waist, tugging you into him before rushing you both back up to the water's top.

"GASP-"

the merman carefully patted at your back, as you coughed out the liquid you had managed to shallow in your few seconds within.

"...i'm sorry for scaring you, young one... it's just... i couldn't help but give ya a little tease,"

"cough- i-it's alright, mister- just- try not drowning your victims next time-"

"...will do."

"anyways, cough- do you live here?"

"...no, sadly."

"what- then did someone move you here from the ocean?!"

"...no either."

"then..."

"i was taken in by a family who lived in a nearby village; regretfully, the leaders found out about my secret and decided to sentence me to death- luckily... i was able to escape and that's how i ended up here..."

you were quiet, speechless even.

"...so you're homeless?"

"it would seem so..."

"why don't you stay with me?"

"...pardon?"

"i have an extra room or more like you could live in the tub- plus, it's quite lonely living in the woods all alone..."

"..."

"well- you can stay here too if you-"

"...i'd be happy too."

"wait- really?"

he nodded.

"that's- that's great- do you need me to pick you up then- transport you into the house or-"

"no need for that, i have my ways..."

"come now- dinner's ready!"

he stood from his position in the waters, swimming over all while chuckling at your huff of annoyance. reaching the borders of the water - he took a slight leap, and within a flash of light, his tail turned to a pair of legs clothed in black trousers; waist-up, dress-shirt underneath a dark-marine vest. soft, pale hand combed through his now dried mane before strolling back to the cozy, small cottage up ahead.

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thecharmjewelry · 9 months

Text

#wedding #gift for her #bridal #bridesmaids gift #vintage style #hair piece #haircomb #hair accessories #something blue #blue rose #navy #gold leaf hair comb #romantic

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tojiswhore-nanamisslut · 3 months

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A Short Break

pairing: Nanami x reader (NSFW)

warnings: NSFW, oral (m/f receiving), penetration (p in v), praise (good girl, naughty girl), unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering

synopsis: You're working late with Nanami and you decide you both could use a break.

word count: 3k

a/n: I wrote this in one sitting so it feels kind of rushed but here it is ☠

------------------------------------------------

It's another late night at school with Nanami. Neither of you enjoyed overtime, but you both recently finished a particularly difficult mission and now have to fill out the resulting paperwork.

You were also both scheduled to dispatch for another mission in 2 days, so you needed to finish the paperwork and research the curse you were to track down.

The past few hours you've been alternating who does paperwork and who does research, the room mostly silent due to your concentration and the late hour.

Despite the urgency of the task, you can't help but steal glances at Nanami. His blue sleeves were rolled up, revealing his muscular, veiny forearms and his tie was loose. His hair was slightly disheveled from running his hands through it and you couldn't help but think about running your own hands through his hair. How it would feel to have his large, veiny hands on your body as you straddle him and comb his hair with your fingers and look him in the eyes, all desire and need. He had discarded his signature glasses a while ago so you got a rare opportunity to appreciate his brown eyes. It was a shame, really. Nanami was a handsome man already, but his glasses hid his eyes from the world. They were angular and sleek, just like the rest of him. And now they were trained on you, with a slight questioning look.

A blush rose to your cheeks as he caught you staring in the midst of your dirty thoughts.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You looked away, body hot, “Yeah I think I'm just burning out from the non-stop work we've put in and it's kind of warm in here.” It was summer, so it was a believable lie.

“I see. You can take a break if you'd like. Fresh air might help.” He said and went back to looking at the paper he was holding.

You couldn't help the disappointment you felt. You had caught Nanami looking at you on more than one occasion but it never went beyond exchanged glances. You wanted him and you were pretty sure he wanted you too. But how to get him to admit it?

You decided to tease him a bit.

You unbuttoned your shirt a little bit, just enough for some cleavage to show but not enough to be obvious and then you walked over to Nanami. He did a double take as you walked over, hips swaying a little more than they normally do.

“What are you do–”

He was cut off when you leaned over him to open the window, a warm breeze instantly flowing into the room. You stayed like that for a second, closing your eyes and sighing as the breeze moved across your chest and also to give Nanami a few seconds to appreciate how round and plump your ass looked in your skirt and to see the cleavage that was now much more visible due to you being bent over.

When you opened your eyes you saw his were wide and his mouth was partially open, admiring your figure. When you pulled back to stand up he cleared his throat and put his papers on his lap, face red as he looked away from you.

You couldn't help the smirk that painted your face, “Are you okay, Nanami?” repeating the innocent question he asked you earlier.

“Yeah it's just....I think the work and heat are also getting to me.” He still wasn't looking at you and you thought you noticed his legs spread a little wider.

“I see...maybe you should also take a break?” You colored the question with a sultry tone, “here, I can finish the paperwork you're working on.” you bend down, tits directly in his line of sight, to reach for the papers on his lap when he quickly grabs your wrist.

“No, y/n. That's okay. I can finish this. You should go back to the books and see what else you can find about the curse.” He's trying so hard to be a gentleman and not stare directly at your cleavage but you see him steal a couple of glances, his grip tightening on your wrist.

You smile, “Are you sure Nanami? I don't mind helping you.” And your hand lightly travels up his outer thigh as you reach for the papers once more. Before you can grab them or he can further restrain you, a strong breeze blows in, flipping the papers over and blowing some away. It's then that you realize why he was so insistent. He's rock hard.

The bulge in his pants is large. You didn't realize Nanami was so well-endowed. Your pussy immediately pulsed upon seeing it and your mouth watered.

Nanami groaned and threw his head back, hiding his face with his arm and covering his bulge once more with the papers, “I'm sorry y/n. Please forget you saw anything. It's late and I'm tired and–”

You cut him off before he could continue, “I said I don't mind helping you didn't I? And plus,” you got down on your knees as he looked at you with a shocked face, “I think we could both use a break and I can't think of a better way to spend it.”

You were kneeling between his legs as he was seated in his chair, running your hands along his thighs, hungry to taste him in your mouth.

He looked at you for a second before responding, “Are you sure? We don't have to it–”

His words were cut short again by your hands running over his clothed length.

He groaned.

“I'm very very sure Nanami I've been wanting you for a while.”

He looked down at you with those angular brown eyes, “if we're gonna do this then we're gonna do it right.”

At that he picked you up and put you on his lap, so that you were straddling him and looking down into his eyes, just like you were fantasizing about earlier.

He pulled your head to him and kissed you deeply. Tongue licking your bottom lip, asking for entry to explore your mouth, tongue dancing around your own when you opened for him. You kissed each other sloppily, his firm hands kneading the fat of your ass and your fingers brushing through his hair. You couldn't help the moans that came out.

He trailed kisses down your jaw and neck and over your collarbone, traveling further down until he got to the top of your cleavage.

“Did you unbutton your shirt earlier?” He asked.

You giggled, “Yeah. I was hoping you would notice when I walked over to open the window.”

He gave a breathy laugh, “Naughty girl.” And he ripped the rest of the buttons off your shirt, making you gasp as he planted kisses over your breasts and taking your bra off at the same time until your nipples were exposed.

“So beautiful. Just like I imagined.” He massages one with his hand while he put the other in his mouth and twirled his tongue around it.

You gave a breathy sigh as you watched his strong hand play with your breast and his mouth lick circles around your nipple, “like you imagined?” You asked.

He detached himself from your nipple with a pop and moved to the other one, “of course. I've imagined doing this to you plenty of times.”

You knew it.

Your vindication was short-lived as he started grinding you onto his erection. The sudden simulation to your clit sending a jolt of pleasure to your core and causing you to moan.

“Mm your moans are so sweet to hear. I want more.” And he lifts you up, placing you on the table a few feet away. He bends over you to kiss you more. His lips are intoxicating. He moves them so expertly against you, the pulse in your pussy is going faster now and you desperately want some kind of stimulation.

As if Nanami can sense what you need, he starts pulling your skirt and leggings down, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He sees the wet spot and palms himself through his pants, “fuck you're so wet already.”

You don't even have time to respond before he kisses you over your panties, drawing out more moans, “mmm Nanami that feels good.”

“yeah? I can make it feel even better.”

And at that he slips your panties to the side and starts sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in you. His fingers stretch you so deliciously, and the way he moves his tongue in circles on your clit had you moaning even louder, hands squeezing your own tits for more stimulation.

He curled his fingers and hit that sweet spot inside of you, moving them in time with his tongue on your clit and you could feel the pleasure building in you. You started to run your fingers through his hair, holding him to you as you rocked against his tongue.

The sounds of him sucking on your clit filled the room, he was eating you out so eagerly, like he hasn't eaten in days. The ministrations of his fingers inside of you had you clenching your thighs around his head.

“Oh Nanami fuck fuck I'm close oh shit.” you whined.

He continued his pace, palming himself through his pants to relieve some of the pressure. He was so hard it hurt but he wasn't the type to get off before a woman, especially not the first time.

“Cum on my fingers y/n and then I'll give you something bigger.” He moaned into your clit as you began bucking your hips and clenching around his fingers. You couldn't help the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth as you came. It was like a rope snapped in your abdomen and pleasure flooded your veins, feeling the rush and release as juices dripped out of you and covered Nanami’s hand. When he was satisfied you were done he took his fingers out of you and popped them in his mouth, tasting you, “you taste so fucking good y/n.” He was still palming his dick through his pants but it wasn't enough. Seeing you so overcome from your orgasm was making his dick twitch, he could feel the wet spot from his precum sticking to his thigh. He needed you. Now.

“Are you ready for something bigger?” He bent over and looked you in the eyes, his pupils blown so wide you could barely see the beautiful brown that normally outlined them.

“Yes please Nanami. I want you.” You said breathlessly.

“Good girl.” And he undid his belt and zipper to let his cock out. You sat up to look at it, god it was beautiful. Veiny with a slight curve upwards. You decided you needed him in your mouth first.

“Wait let me taste you. Please” you look at him, a hunger in your eyes.

He looked at you and hesitated but eventually gave in, “Go ahead.”

You smile and get on your knees in front of him, once again marveling at his girth and length before you drag your tongue from the base all the way to his tip, making him groan.

You plant light kisses around the top before finally taking him into your mouth, he tastes divine, slightly salty from the precum that had been leaking out of him.

“Ah fuck your pretty little mouth feels so good.” And he tangles his hands in your hair.

You begin to move your head, bobbing back and forth on his dick and swirling your tongue around his tip. His moans above you spur you on, ignoring the way his dick hits the back of your throat and stretches your lips. You moaned on his cock thinking about what it would feel like inside of you.

Before you could do more though he pulled out of you and you looked up.

“I need to fuck you. Now.”

The growl in Nanami’s voice, the authority with which he gave you that command had you up on your feet immediately.

He wasted no time turning you around and bending you over the desk, “spread your legs.” He ordered.

You complied, and with one hand he guided his dick to your folds, rubbing the tip around your slick entrance.

“And you're sure you want this?” He asked.

“God Nanami if you don't fuck me right now I swe–”

Now it was your turn to be cut off with the hard thrust he gave to bottom out in you. Your sentence devolved into a scream of pleasure. The slight pain of him stretching you was eclipsed by the absolute pleasure of how full you felt and from him immediately hitting that spot inside you that had you cumming earlier.

He stayed still for a second to let you adjust.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned.

“Mm. I'm gonna start moving now.” And he slowly rocked his hips in and out, as it got easier he picked up his speed.

“Fuck your pussy feels fucking amazing.” He groaned.

“God yes this feels so good.” You moaned back.

He was fucking you in long thrusts, using his hips to angle himself every time he bottomed out to hit that spot that made you moan loudly.

You could hear his balls slapping against you with each thrust combined with the squelching sound of your pussy. God it felt so fucking good you'd been dreaming about this. About having him. So many nights you wondered what his cock would feel like in you and now you're getting fucked better than you ever have in your life.

Nanami’s thrusts started getting harder and you moaned, “Oh fuck Nanami you're so deep it feels so fucking good.”

He groans in response, “Yeah you're taking me so well. So well.”

He wraps an arm around your hips and leans over, pushing a palm to the middle of your back to arch you even more. At this angle he's fucking right into your sweet spot.

You yell out his name, “Nanami!! Na-na- oh fuck I'm gonn–I’m gonna cum fuck.” Your legs start shaking as he fucks you faster, clearly close to his own climax.

“Oh fuck. Yes. Cum for me y/n.” He grunts out. Trying to keep his own orgasm at bay.

You reach down and start rubbing your clit and it quickly leads to your undoing.

After a few more thrusts you're climaxing. Wave after wave of pleasure rolling through your body and you can't help the pornographic noises you're making. You're clenching and milking his dick as he works you through your orgasm. His name tumbling out of your mouth as your body is wracked and you see stars. He continues fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it and keeping you moaning but his hips start to stutter.

“Ah fuck y/n I'm going to cum. In or out?” Nanami's breath is heavy and fast, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tries his best to wait for your answer.

You're still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm but in your dazed state you tell him to cum inside you.

“Oh fuck that's a good girl.” And with a few more sporadic thrusts you feel Nanami tense behind you, his grip on your hips tightening as he shoots his load directly into you, a mix of both of your orgasms threatening to leak out of you.

You both stay like that for a second. Nanami's arm around you is the only thing keeping you up right now otherwise you'd surely keel over. Once he's caught his breath he slowly pulls out, the smell of sex and sweat is thick in the air.

Your head is still laying on the table, drool running from your mouth. You've never been this fucked out in your life.

“Y/n, are you okay?” He asks gently.

You can't help but giggle. That question is what got you into this situation.

You hum, “yeah I'm fucking fantastic actually.”

He laughs. “Here.” And he gently pulls you both back into the chair so you're sitting on his lap, head against his chest.

His face is flushed and sweaty and his hair is a mess. You're sure you look no better. It's the first time you've ever seen Nanami look disheveled, he's always so formal and put together. It's a nice side of him to see.

He once again catches you looking at him, “you sure you're okay?” He asks again.

You laugh, “yes I'm fine. I was just thinking it's nice to see this side of you. You don't usually let your hair down very much.” To emphasize your point you run your hands through his hair.

He's quiet for a second, “Yeah. I mean being a jujutsu sorcerer is a job and I treat it as such.”

“Mm. I suppose. But it is nice to see you without your glasses on. You should take them off more often.”

He gives you a quizzical look, “My glasses? Why?”

“You have pretty eyes. It's nice to see them.” You state matter of factly.

All you hear him say is a quiet, oh but the blush that rises to his cheeks doesn't escape you.

“Well,” you sigh and make to get off his lap, “break time is over, we should get back to work. I know how much you hate working overtime so the sooner we finish the better.”

You're putting your close back on and Nanami gets off the chair.

“We should get back to work but, I don't mind working overtime if it's with you.”

At his words you look at him, and his brown eyes are gazing at you fondly.

“Oh.” You couldn't help the blush that painted your cheeks even though you just got fucked senseless by this man.

“Maybe tomorrow if we finish up early, we could go to dinner.” He suggested.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” You smile at him.

“Good. And even if we don't finish early we could still take a...break to have dinner.” and you can sense the double meaning in his words.

“Ooh I would like that very much Mr. Nanami.” And you grab his tie to pull him in for a kiss before walking back over to your work, swaying your hips just a little more than usual.

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hai7ani · 5 months

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link to previous

ok now what about this. what about carrying your son up into your arms only to have him tug on your sweater and repeatedly chant "daddy?" while looking at you with so much hope in his eyes. he's excited, he's confused, his eyes are lighting up, and he looks so much like him -- an exact copy of his father when he was younger. you'd compared their photos as a child shortly after your son has turned 5, and you'd gotten the shock of your life.

the purple in his eyes used to scare you a lot. they used to make you shudder and cry during baby blues when things were so much harder to go through -- because those purples also belonged to a person who'd looked you straight in the eye and told you he doesn't want you anymore when he'd left you and your broken heart alone in the middle of december -- before new years, it'll make things easier. the blond in his hair used to haunt you so much too, because those strands were also the ones you'd used to comb through with your fingers when the two of you were still young and still in the dating stage.

but as time passes you don't think you'd have it any other way, because these are lovely features belonging to a boy who'd wait for you to come pick him up at daycare and then call you "mommy" while handing you a rose and a warm hug when you do.

he tugs again but you don't reply. you huff out a shaky breath and kiss the side of his head, telling him to never run off like that again, and you don't say a thing more -- you don't even know what to say. you feel as if you have committed a crime and you don't even know what it is. and rindou is burning holes into your back when you turn around and pretend like you don't even know the man who is the father of your son, and he's standing behind you now.

he's waiting for you to turn around -- you know it. your son's even reaching a hand out to him -- the ultraman toy in his hand now in rindou's, but you don't know that, and you don't turn around, and the bus arrives. you cut the queue and hop on before anything else happens and rindou watches as you pick a seat on the right side of the bus -- where he can't see you as clear, where he can't watch as you nervously take the scarf off your son despite his protests and shove it in your bag.

you don't look out the window when the bus drives off. "mommy? that was my daddy." he says, like it's a fact -- one backed up with concrete evidence -- even though he has never once saw a photo of rindou, let alone met him.

your heart aches, but you don't want to lie to him. you think the world is cruel to you.

"i know." and you don't say a thing more.

#解 #wtfb collection #rindou x reader #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers

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arcielee · 8 months

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Ours never knew peace.

Summary: On the morning of the Great Tourney of Harrenhal, Lyanna Stark's granddam visits to give her an heirloom, a necklace with a sapphire stone... Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 7600 Warnings: Third POV and first POV, AFAB, mentions of infidelity, graphic violence, character deaths, and there is a hyperlink for the smut, so mind those warnings too. Author’s Note: I definitely played with the timeline of the Dance of the Dragons a lot to fit with the narrative. Also, the idea is the bloodline stems from Cregan Stark's sister, which is why Lyanna's granddam is still kicking. Also, this was not beta read, please feel free to DM me any mistakes you may find 💜 A huge thank you to my Tumblr kindred spirits: to @aegonx for this inspiring gifset, and to my darling @itbmojojoejo for these perfect dividers 🦝💜 Also, to Hozier. I started writing this in June and had not touched it until I started listening to Unreal Unearth. The title for this and the smutty one-shot are from the song Francesca.

“I have a gift for you, my dear.”

Lyanna was leaning against the ornate balustrade and watching how the sun rose above Gods Eye. She drank in the sight of how the rays danced against the blue-green gemstone surface, shimmering with the rippling waves that met with the shoreline and towards the center where the Isle of Faces jutted upwards; she saw the weirwoods shift lazily with the breeze, its red foliage breaking away and littering the laketop, like drops of blood.

She pulled her eyes away to see her granddam standing in her room, poised with her walking cane; a handmaiden was in tow, carrying a wooden box that had once been intricately carved into, though its detailing was now worn with age.

Her granddamn was the matriarch of House Stark and the only mother figure she had ever known as hers passed away when she was very young, leaving Lyanna with her father and three brothers: Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen. Though she originally had come from a noble house in Oldcastle, she had been proud to don the grays and whites of House Stark, dignified in such a way it seemed that she was born into and not just married.

Her reputation was notorious and though some would consider her shrewd, Lyanna knew her granddam had a sharp mind and wit, an undeniable ability to see beyond the façades of court with her storm colored eyes; she was gallant, devoted to her husband until his last breath and remained in Winterfell after, her devotion extending to the North.

“This is my home,” she had explained as if it was the simplest thing. “Always.”

Time now showed itself in silver streaks, a bold contrast with her dark hair that had been meticulously combed and knotted at the base of her neck, showing the severity that lined her features. This look alone had the other handmaidens–who before had been aimlessly flitting around her room, coaxing Lyanna to ready for the day’s events–quickly excuse themselves, allowing her a moment alone with her granddaughter.

“Set it there,” and the remaining handmaiden jumped to command, placing the wooden box on the vanity before following after the others.

There was the click of her cane with her sure steps, one hand resting on the gilded handles and the other coming to place on the edge of the wooden box, its brass hinges groaning in response to her opening it. Placed against the velvet inlay was a necklace of a peculiar silver that did not shine, but seemed to permeate a strength despite its delicate, celtic chains interwoven with one another; its pendant, a sapphire stone no larger than a silver pence, was nestled in the same style, curled around to hold it in place.

Only the stone gleamed, just like the water’s surface–alluring, calling, but she kept her hand at her side. “It is beautiful,” Lyanna acknowledged.

“It is reforged Valyrian steel,” her granddam continued, and she was pleased to see how her eyes widened with a reverence for the rare medium. “This is a heirloom that has been passed down, once belonging to your thrice over granddam. It is something for you to wear today.”

Lyanna remained rooted, only a wistful sigh in response. “This is my duty in life now, to be adorned in gems and silks and rare silvers, just to be shown off at this event.”

“It is our lot in life, yes,” her tone cut through the self-wallow. “Lord Whent wants nothing more than to parade the money he poured into this cursed castle, to show off his simple-minded daughter to the highest bid. The queen of love and beauty,” and her laugh was sharp, “only her brothers would defend that nepotist title!”

Lyanna felt her lips curl; she loved her granddam, dearly, especially when she was unabashed with her bold opinions. Her eyes fell back to the necklace. “Love and beauty,” Lyanna murmured. “No man has want for a clever wife.”

It was her turn to sigh. “This can be true, but some are fortunate with their matches.”

“Robert has no want for a clever wife,” Lyanna continued as if she had not spoken. “He wants something docile and pretty at his side while he wags his cock at every set of tits in Westeros.” She could see how the inside sagged with the weight of the necklace and a bundle of parchment that was tucked beneath, hidden in the folds of the fabric.

Her granddam plucked the paper bundled together with string and then moved back towards one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. “My dear girl, love is always unexpected. Perhaps in time, despite the faults you each share,” she gave a knowing look as Lyanna moved back towards the bed, “you, hopefully, may have a gradual love and respect grow between.”

“He is already convinced it is love,” she sat back on the mattress, sinking against the goose feather pillows piled at the head. “But it is with this idea of me. He does not know me, who I am truly or what it is that drives me…” her eyes were drawn again to the box, opened still, and to the glint of the sapphire. “How did this come to our possession anyway?”

“It was a gift,” her granddam scoffed, untying the string and smoothing the letters on her lap.

Lyanna closed her eyes a moment, her own smile playing at her lips. “Yes,” her tone forced, “but who would have gifted this to her to begin with?”

Her granddam hummed, now her turn to smile. “How clever of you to ask, sweet girl,” but she did not answer Lyanna. “I saw how you are blossoming into a lovely young woman, especially after last night’s banquet,” and she saw that her granddaughter grinned, cheeky. “Ancestry has its weight with House Stark, and I thought now is the time to gift this necklace, just as your grandsire gifted it to me, and how it was given to your mother, who listened to me read this, years ago,” and she gestured to the letters.

Lyanna reached for the pillows, fluffing them and sinking back into them, her arms folding behind to hold her head upright. “I would never deny my granddam of my company,” she teased.

“Yes, how kind of you,” her tongue wet her lips, her eyes flitting over the first page. “Now shut up and let my old eyes read.”

And so she began.

It was the unmartyred act of my mother to bring me into the world. My father was a proud man, an honorable man who would never blame me, but I could see how he would wilt in my presence; perhaps it was that I reminded him of her as I grew, reminded him of the cost of her life so I may live instead. My brother, Cregan, kept his grief quiet, though it clouded his storm-gray eyes with this pain, this hurt that shadowed behind his irises.

With the unsaid, I know my existence haunted my father, Lord Rickon Stark, the Warden of the North, to his grave. It was only then that Cregan truly recognized me with our sorrow now shared, as well as the burden as our uncle Bennard was quick to come to Winterfell, bringing his shrewd wife and his sons, our wretched cousins.

I could only watch from the shadows with how Cregan fought to stay afloat with the smothering regency brought with them; our uncle was cunning, wishing to isolate my brother, which was why it was decided for me to be sent away to King’s Landing. It was under the promised lady-in-waiting for Princess Helaena Targaryen, though its true intention was for me to marry a Targaryen prince, for the opportunity to have a Stark within the royal inner circle and a direct line to the Iron Throne.

Cregan hugged me farewell, the whispered promise that he would write, and I was ushered into the carriage, cramped with my trunks, and my aunt Margaret, with her wardrobe and endless idylls of how I would lure King Aegon II.

I reminded her that King Viserys was not dead, and of the crowned Princess Rhaenyra. She bristled with her response: “No woman will ever rule the Seven Kingdoms.” She embellished this, and her inane plans to make me a princess; I had just turned ten and three with the soured taste of her words the further south we traveled.

We arrived at the capital almost two months later, coming as the last of the daylight disappeared in the horizon, with the full moon and stars already glowing in response. I wished to sleep, but was forced to bathe, to be soaked in a gilded tub with rose petals that floated on the surface while hands flitted over combing and scrubbing and cleaning every bit of me, all while my aunt hovered with her critiques.

The next day was our debut luncheon, allowing my formal introduction to the House of the Dragon. My aunt was peevish that the king did not join, we still met with the queen and Lord Hand, who introduced Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena.

It was said that Prince Daeron was away in Oldtown and Prince Aemond would not attend either, but did not speak more of it.

The prince and the princess held their old blood features, the shades of purple in their gazes and the gold-silver of their hair, a contrast to their mother’s auburn and her dark eyes that were watchful and worrisome.

Prince Aegon already had an exhaustion lining his face, with shadows that stretched beneath his lilac eyes, something heavy for someone only two years older than myself. In time I would learn that his shoulders sagged with the forced Hightower expectation placed, and its accompanying slow suffocation. The prince responded to it as well as any adolescent with unwanted responsibility: to rebel.

The princess–who we learned, to the woe of my aunt–was his betrothed, but that day she also became my savior, in a sense. Though she carried her own burdens, something deeply rooted within the ichor of Old Valyria that surged her veins, her company was enjoyable, nonetheless.

I enjoyed my time spent with the princess, learning of her fascination with entomology, with a favoritism that stemmed towards arachnids; though I found it unsettling, I still knew it was better company than my aunt. I was devoted to the task to fill mason jars with dirt, leaves, sticks to create little habitats for her ever growing collection, and it became our daily ritual to walk the gardens of the Red Keep, always in search of more to add or to release others who dutifully served their time in their glass confines.

One thing I noted was her utterances, her singsong riddles on repeat. “Be mindful,” she said with a hum one afternoon.

“Of what, princess?”

“A song of ice and fire,” her eyes were glassy, sorrowful. “It is a tragedy, again and again…”

My evenings were held captive by my aunt and her ever growing determination to force her way into the royal social circles; her daily mantra to remind me of the two remaining Targaryen princes, how I need my focus to be on snaring one of them.

I knew that Prince Daeron was a child and away in Oldtown, which left the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond, who I thought peculiar and quiet. He was isolated the first six months after we arrived, and I heard the whispered incident at Diftmark that had involved the crowned princess and her bastard sons; I also learned how it ended with the loss of his eye, but that was not learned until Princess Helaena brought me to visit with her brother.

“It would be good for him,” and her lilac eyes sparkled.

He was sullen, but rightfully so; he was still bandaged and refused the milk of the poppy, though I knew he was hurting, his anguish was vicariously heard with the roars of his dragon, Vhagar, whose bellows rattled the entire capital, leaving the inhabitants uneasy.

Eventually, Prince Aemond healed enough to leave his room, though the queen was still adamant he not venture outside of the Keep. I watched him, a dragon caged, stalking the corridors, a dark passing in search of confrontation, his unbridled want for vengeance and his inability to see it through; a tormented unrest, an unruly anger from the injustice of what happened that fateful night at Driftmark.

I had been present for over a year and would inevitably have the misfortune to cross his warpath, alone, without my shield of his sister. It was a foreboding presence that drained the air, a palpable anger that hung heavy, and I flinched, perched by the window, curled up with Ten Thousand Ships.

“What are you doing here?” He spat.

I remember how his anger darkened his features shown, but the rest was still hidden beneath bandages wrapped around his silver head. “Reading,” was all I dared reply, refusing to look away from the pages as if the very tale of Nymeria held me captive.

“They educate the women in the North?”

His words were mocking and this is when I pulled my eyes away to meet with his one uncovered. “The North does not only teach their women how to read, but how to fight as well, my prince,” my tongue had a life of its own I could not control, sneering his title in return.

Her granddam paused a moment, peering over the edge to see how Lyanna had shifted; she was now closer towards the foot of the bed, curled up with one of the pillows, her eyes glowing with admiration.

“My great-great-great granddam was fearless,” Lyanna concluded.

She chuckled in response. “It is a trait in Stark women, that is for certain,” she clucked her tongue. “Stark men also search for strong women to survive the winters. Maybe another day I will tell you about your great-great-great aunt Alysanne Blackwood.”

Her eyes shone. “I would like that very much.”

And then, her granddam continued.

I would learn that Prince Aemond was just lonely; allowed out of his quarters, his mar was forever isolating with how the castled treated him with kid gloves, like an open wound that never healed despite the jagged red of new flesh mended, cutting from his brow to his cheek and peeking beneath the eyepatch he took to wearing. Though he would never apologize for that day in the library, the next time I found him within the walls I saw he was lost in the pages of Winter’s Kings, or the Legends and Lineages of the Starks of Winterfell.

I could only assume it was all the apology that could be expected of a dragon prince.

Our friendship was something predetermined by the gods, or this was what Princess Helaena wholeheartedly believed; for a time, we were a trio of lonely souls akin and knitted together until the princess inevitably became pregnant with the twins. And then, there was the subtle change of our dynamic with the seasons passed, an initial wariness that settled in the edges of his features that only softened whenever I took his hand and pulled him forward.

Perhaps he believed that I would abandon him for his sister’s company, which would be expected of her lady-in-waiting. But I did not.

Instead I indulged the prince and his company, and we became inseparable; whether we visited with his sister, playing with the little prince and princess, while Helaena budding with a third, or going to the courtyards to train under Ser Criston’s watchful eye and my aunt’s apparent disdain. It was then that the evenings became our own and spent in the library of the Keep; it was here that Aemond dared remove his eyepatch, the sapphire stone that showed brilliant from his scarred socket.

The first time, I stepped closer so his nervous exhale fanned my cheeks; I could see the plumes of pinks to his features, my fingers ghosting his jawline as I attempted his ancient tongue. “Gevie.”

Beautiful.

Prince Aemond was respectful, always, but he was also fearless with me, allowing the same sense of freedom in return, to speak my mind as I always had. But I faltered with what I truly wished to say: that the years crafted him beautiful as any Targaryen prince, with sharp edges chiseled from marble stone, his lips that curled with a perpetual smirk as he voiced his peculiar insight which always led to a good natured battlement between us, leaving me flushed.

And then the day came that he took my hand, that his palm now enveloped my own.

It was the familiar touch now paired with a feeling, a fluttering in the pit of my stomach that I could not place, though writing these words allows a clearer perspective with the retrospect: that I was falling in love with him.

My aunt grew more insufferable with the passing days, though I expected as much with the letters I exchanged with Cregan. I knew his every action in Winterfell, what he was learning, of his sweetheart Lady Arra Norrey, my new nephew, but mostly of how our uncle continued to tighten his hold. My brother was a wolf, restless, and spoke that his hour was coming; and meanwhile, I continued to play my role, a simpleminded girl from the North.

My aunt tsked. “He will never see you as more than a plaything,” as if this was a cruel fate. In truth I was still so unaware of what was growing within the confines of my heart, but I knew that I only wished to remind at his side, devoted, present, always.

So when Aemond asked that I finally become acquainted with Vhagar, I went. I remembered how my hand fit within his as he pulled me to follow his steps, moving through the ingresses that weaved with the castle walls. We broke out to follow the coastline, a crisp salt air and the clouds covering the sun, heavy with the threat of rain, but Aemond promised we would rise above them.

I followed his long steps until we came to where Vhagar waited for her rider, diligent, alert.

Dragons are magnificent creatures, and I swear them sentient with the bond I saw between Aemond and the she-dragon. Fear trickled my spine, but Aemond held onto my hand and I tightened in response to the massive eyes that focused on us, her pupils constricting in query. Aemond held up his other hand, the honey spill of his soothing voice of his old tongue to coax her and allow me to climb aback.

I then felt the gaze of Aemond and refused to allow my fear to root me, moving to take the bottom rung of the rope ladder; he was pleased, a hum, the slight curl of his lips, and followed behind me with his promise that he would not let me fall. At the top, he pushed past to settle into the saddle, then reached to pull me behind and I settled against his backside.

“Just hold onto me,” he murmured, bringing my arms around his slender waist.

This moment I was adamantly aware that he was no longer that sullen child that sneered within his gilded cage, but against my hold that Aemond was solid, lithe, and so warm with a woodsy musk mixed with smoke against his skin.

Pressed against, I was able to feel his low baritone command Vhagar, followed by her jolted steps forward, the beating of her wings to take flight. To feel this power beneath you is indescribable; I could not help my scream, my laughter from the exhilaration that that spate my veins; I dared not close my eyes, tears streaming, and I peered to marvel at how small the capital seemed beneath, how large the shadow we cast overhead.

It was a newfound euphoria, and I felt my cheeks burn from the crisp air above the gray clouds, but I also knew it was from my close proximity to Aemond. I held onto him as we soared out over Blackwater Bay, and sighed from the touch of his gloved hand, from the heat that permeated through the leather when he placed it over my own.

And I knew then that I never wished to let him go.

He eventually brought Vhagar back to land onto the grassy knolls outside the city; the afternoon was growing late but there was still enough light to return. Aemond warned that my legs would be shaky and again he moved first, again with the promise he would not let me fall.

I still trembled when he set me on the ground, his large palms kept their hold on my waist and my hands rested on his broad shoulders. My eyes were wide admiring the beauty of his mussed, silver braid, his cheeks lined with his dimples with his pursed grin. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Enjoy myself?” I was incredulous, I was a mess; windswept and blooming red, a grinning fool with tear-streaked cheeks, “Aemond, you showed me the heavens.” And a boldness pressed me onto my toes, my lips against his.

It was my first kiss; it was a heartbeat’s length, it was everything, and when I pulled back, I fell solid to the earth, my soles grounded back on that gassy knoll. I looked up into his bicolored gaze, the lavender of one eye and the gleam of sapphire for the other that stared back.

Aemond was unreadable in that moment, and I felt my blood surge from my heart and pour into my face; the quiet that settled between us the same length of the years I had spent in King’s Landing, a choking regret that burned in my throat with the thought that I had ruined everything built between us.

Then he kissed me back.

And I felt alive once more with the touch of his arm that curled around my waist, how his other hand followed the curve of my spine, tangling into my hair and holding me to capture my mouth. His lips were warm and soft and his tongue clever in a way that drew the very breath from my lungs. I melted against him, my fingertips soft to follow the sharp contours of his jaw, trailing his neck and grasping his collar to bring him even closer.

We only parted for air; the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his riding leathers, the crimson on his cheeks with his quiet confession, something he held close to his heart.

“For how long?” I breathed

And he thought for a moment. “Always.”

To take his hand now was finding a piece that I did not know was missing from me; our fingers interlaced in a way that felt akin as if I held my own hand, though I knew it was him from the warmth of his skin, from the fire in his blood. By now the tendrils of dusk began to curl over the city, its amber hues bold against the blues and purples of the coming nightfall, but we continued our leisure pace back, Aemond and I.

We were greeted by the gold cloaks at the gates and they escorted us back, and though he did not let go, I saw that it was no longer Aemond who held my hand but the second son of King Viserys, a Targaryen prince. He was stoic, but this time I could tell the other emotions that flittered beneath, his uncertainty of what awaited, but above that was his determination.

We finally came to the barbican of the Keep where we were greeted by his queen mother, my aunt, and several White Cloaks.

Relief washed over the queen while my aunt raged, lifting her skirts to meet us in the courtyard, her nails biting with her grip on my arm and pulling me back; the rushed spill of her words, “I cannot believe this unseemly behavior of a lady, unchaperoned with a prince! We are leaving this moment–”

I tried to twist away but she held on still, a madwoman. Aemond moved after, quick, and his anger burning from him and his long legs moved to block her path. “She will not be leaving.”

The finality of his words, the barrier his form created halted her at once and I felt my heart between my teeth. “My prince,” she stammered in response. “We must leave this very moment! We have imposed on your hospitality far too long as it is, and when my lord husband hears of her behaviors–”

But she was unaware that Cregan and I wrote, dutifully; he shared his life within the walls of Winterfell, as well as his growing concern with the regency our uncle imposed still. She also did not know the newest letter I had received, how my brother was now the proper Warden of the North and our uncle imprisoned; my aunt paled with my words and it was commanded for her to be taken away. She did not leave quietly, her wails echoed and I watched impassively, knowing her every action was a self-serving and a selfish ploy for power for herself, her husband, for those wretched cousin kin in the North.

And I knew I would not miss any of them.

Ever the diplomat, the queen stepped forward with her congratulations for my brother, her condolences for the betrayal within our family, her practiced concern for my well being and its shift to confusion that knitted between her brows when she saw how I smiled at her son. She offered my escort back to Winterfell, but I was quick to decline as I knew I could not leave Aemond.

I saw the understanding began to roll over, and she then asked her son if he loved me. Aemond responded, “I believe I always have, mother,” and I knew I loved him in return.

It was decided that the ceremony would be held in the Royal Sept, and chaperoned until, though Aemond stole a moment to gift me this very necklace. I could feel the power of Old Valyria thrum from the metal, adoring how it was woven around the sapphire stone; he told me it was a piece kept from the same stone fitted for his eye.

I lifted my hair and turned my back towards him, my skin prickling from his touch to clasp the necklace around my throat.

He hummed. “Gevie.”

Only a week later, and the service seemed surreal. I felt his warmth that held to the robe he brought around my shoulders, the touch of my palm on top of his large hand kept me grounded while the Septon wrapped the ribbon around; shy glances shared, me to Aemond and seeing his gaze on the sapphire stone beneath my collarbone. The muted words called for a kiss and I burned when Aemond captured my mouth with his own.

The celebration after was an intimate meal with the king, who was a man withering away beneath a gilded mark, the queen, his siblings, and the Lord Hand, who seemed pleased with the idea of solidifying a truce with the North.

But I could not think of politics this night, not with the subtle touches from Aemond, a warmth that curled in my lower abdomen when he inevitably took my hand, his low voice that tickled against my ear. “Come with me, my sweet wife,” as we walked towards his quarters.

Her granddam stopped abruptly, flushed. “Well, you understand what is implied.”

“Understand what?” Lyanna quirked her brow.

It was a pregnant pause that allowed her eyes steel onto her granddaughter, and Lyanna returned her gaze with a cheeky, taunting grin.

“It would serve you well to not agitate your elders.”

“What a bore I would be if I was just another docile woman of nobility?” Lyanna countered, gleefully. “Granddam, Robert has bastards and I am no fool, I do not believe his immaculate conception claims…”

“Yes, you are very bright,” she huffed. “Now hush up and let me read.”

Our marital bliss that followed left me in a haze; Aemond was not one for public displays of affection and how I craved his subtle touches, his lingering hand that would have me blushing furiously in response. He would only hum, his perpetual smirk that played on his lips with my every visceral response to him.

I wrote to Cregan and informed him of our union; he was quick to respond with his congratulations, as well as his newfound concerns, asking if it was true that the crowned princess had sired bastards with the intention to make them her heirs without ownership of her actions.

“Our father was honorable until his last breath,” he wrote, “I would not besmirch his memory or our house, our legacy, for an oath made for bastard-born heirs to the Iron Throne.”

This was a topic I had already discussed in length with Aemond, even before we had even kissed. I was aware of his scar and its cause, and I knew of the old blood and the features lacking when it came to his nephews, something made apparent for the claimant hearings of Dirftmark, as well as the cruel response of Prince Daemon when a lord spoke out loud what the court was thinking.

I answered my brother truthfully, knowing full well that this would sway the North behind Prince Aegon II.

And then King Viserys met his inevitable demise; the small council moved quick to announce that his final words were that he wished his firstborn son to take the crown. Aegon panicked, but my husband and Ser Criston fetched him, washed him, fed him, but also comforted him.

It would be Ser Criston who coaxed him to the coronation, to be the one to place the crown of steel and rubies on top of his silver head, announcing: “King Viserys is dead, long live King Aegon!”

My husband would be sent to Storm’s End to negotiate a betrothal for his brother, Daeron, to one of the Four Storms. It resulted in tragedy, or vengeance on who spoke the narrative. The room stilled with Aemond’s words, the unspoken terror in the queen’s large, brown eyes, the shock that lined the severe features of the Lord Hand, but it was his brother, King Aegon wearing the Conqueror’s Crown who spoke that Aemond had shown the true blood of a dragon.

But in the quiet quarters we shared, Aemond lamented the loss of life, the war it started, a guilt that weighed heavily, and once more I saw the sorrowful prince when I first came to King’s Landing.

“There will be repercussions for my actions,” he rasped, unable to meet with my eyes. “I have ruined my namesake, and I have cursed our family…”

“War seemed inevitable,” I began slowly, my hands careful to hold his jaw, to bring his gaze to my own. “And with it comes rash decisions, with impossible choices to be made…I trust it was not intentional, but even if it was, cursed or not, I am still yours, husband.” A soft kiss to seal my words. “Always.”

War and its bloodshed was rampant in Westeros, and my brother wrote they would travel South when winter ended to help King Aegon with his rightful claim. I feared for the delay, for what would follow Storm’s End, and how it seemingly unleashed the Rogue Prince.

Hired men with the monikers Blood and Cheese came in the night, and I knew them to be sent for me, as one repeated, “An eye for an eye, a son for son,” but followed with his slow realization, “she is not a son,” before his sword was drawn and struck Prince Jaehaerys.

The screams of Helaena resounded against the cobblestone; Aemond found us covered in blood, his rage and his grief conflicting on his angular features. The king cried for vengeance for his firstborn son, to search for these men and place their heads on spikes; the kingdom was repulsed by the murder of the princeling, a martyr made with his blood spilled.

Aegon’s bloodlust made for rash decisions and the battle of Rook’s Rest; though one dragon and its rider slain, its cost was the king crippled in a way that he was not fit to rule. So Aemond stepped forward to take the title Prince Regent and the Protector of the Realm, a natural role that was suited for the second son.

The Rogue Prince struck against the Riverlands, torching until ash remained. In response, the now Prince Regent and Ser Criston left to claim Harrenhal.

I was told to wait, to remain at the side of our grieving queen, my sister by all accounts; I watched over sweet Helaena, coaxing her to eat, washing her, sitting alongside her in the haunting silence of the quarters that somehow still echoed her screams from that fateful night. We were often left alone, as the maesters and the dowager queen never left King Aegon’s side, and I remained with her until I received the latest letter from Aemond.

Harrenhal had been dispelled of every Strong traitor to the crown, and he spoke of a witch he wished me to meet, that I was to leave King’s Landing and be by his side, as the gods ordained.

A quick kiss to the silver head of Helaena and I left the castle, careful to retrace our steps that led to the coast and I continued until I was back on the grassy knolls from what felt like a lifetime ago. I waited the skies until I felt the rumbled call of Vhagar in the distance, gleeful when she finally landed and watched my prince descend to envelope me in his arms, his whispered adoration, “My love, my sweet wife.”

We returned to Harrenhal to meet with the witch he spared, a hushed reverence when he told me of her abilities. “She sees much and more.”

I could see she was hardened by life, but her expression was kind when she greeted us; her eyes roamed around, watchful, looking through to my bones and only then did I understand what my husband meant.

At supper, we sat around the table, along with Ser Criston, and her eyes watched the flicker of candlelight, the flames licking her irises, before she spoke: “Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”

Aemond finished chewing before he asked her. “And I am which?”

Alys’ eyes were black, her painted lips curled and framed around her pearl teeth. “To be the greatness, you must end the madness,” was all that she offered, and then, “the Rogue Prince is coming.”

Ser Criston looked uneasy, but it was a silent understanding in regards to her statement, something that pressed heavily on us both. King Aegon could only have a true chance to rule the realm if his sister lost the power she had with her husband, the Rogue Prince; it was known that he was unruly, untamed, but loyal to a fault, and willing to see it through to its brutal end.

That night, we fell back into an intimate embrace, cherishing the feeling of skin to skin–

Her granddam was crimson. “Oh, my, I believe I should skip this as well–”

She watched her granddam a moment, the intrusive thought to take the letters for her own readthrough, but it was muted by a growing sadness that began to settle in the edges of her sharp features. Lyanna knew well the history of the Dance of the Dragons, something scrawled on scrolls and tomes, its tragedy saved in ink and tucked away.

And still, she had to know this truth.

“Please,” and her voice was soft. “Please, continue.”

And granddam did.

It was the 22nd day of the 5th moon and we waited on the shores of Gods Eye, myself, Aemond, and the witch. Ser Criston rode North to meet with my brother, and we remained, waiting.

It had been a vision for Alys, something sinister; it was no surprise when the wyrm screeched its arrival, circling above, wary of Vhagar, before finally landing. Prince Daemon had an arrogance with his dismount, with his walk towards us.

There was a symmetry as they squared towards one another; the Rogue Prince was cloaked with the past and my Aemond embodied the future, the true hope for House Targaryen. My husband faced him, unflinching, his brow furrowed with his ever present determination, while Daemon rolled his eyes over the each of us, sucking his teeth.

Aemond broke the silence. “You were a fool to come alone.”

“Were I not alone, you would not have come,” Daemon was amused.

But it did not deter my dragon. “Yet you are, and here I am,” he sighed. “You have lived too long, nuncle.”

“On that much we agree.”

The prince retreated to his wyrm and Aemond looked to me, his eye pleading, the glassy lavender that bore through my skin, and the gleam of sapphire for the other. He then dipped forward to kiss me and the tears pearling in the corners of my eyes spilled onto my cheeks at the taste of him, the touch of him; I knew I could never imagine anyone else. Those words stilled on my tongue, how I wanted him to beg to stay with me, but I also knew that he must.

“Do not say it,” my voice broke, hushed against our kiss swollen lips. “Just come back to me.”

His two fingers pressed against the sapphire pendant I wore, before leaning forward to press his lips to my hairline, and then he climbed aback Vhagar, his lithe body quick to mount. I remained on the sand with the witch at my side, and we watched these winged beasts rise above us.

Dragons are truly magnificent, but they are also equally deadly. I trusted Vhagar was loyal to Aemond, but also knew it matched by the bond shared between Prince Daemon and his wyrm. It was said that Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, and I believed this as I watched them on dragonback, circling above the massive lake. Their roars vibrated through to our bones, the snapping of the jaws like cracks of lighting and their flames that singed the threads of my gown from my place on the shore.

My eyes did not leave, and I asked Alys. “Will he live?”

She was quiet for a moment. “The memory of him will live on,” and I felt her hand reach and touch my stomach.

And all I could do was hold onto my pendant with prayers to the old golds, to the new gods for mercy for my husband, whose child I carried.

They did not listen.

It was a clash of scale and bone, something that reverberated to Harrenhal and rattled the castle walls that still stood. The wyrm’s screams were cut short as the massive maw of Vhagar clamped onto its neck, and its talons flailed and cut deep into the old dragon’s underside. Blood rained onto the lake and I watched, struck with mortification at the dull glint of Valyrian armor, the flash raise of Dark Sister, and I knew it was over.

I remained on the shore as the waves created from the fall of dead dragons crashed against the sand, a blood foam that flooded and wet my skirts. I remained still as the sun tucked beneath the horizon, until I heard the call of the witch.

“My lady, the wolves have arrived.”

This would be the shift of power needed for King Aegon II; the Rogue Prince was dead and his men fell to the sword under the command of my brother and Ser Criston. Cregan was shocked to see me and I was stoic still, dumbstruck with my grief that did not feel real; we returned to King’s Landing with the Northern army, quick to dethrone Rhaenyra and place her in the cells with the company of all the lords who supported her.

King Aegon was scarred cruelly with a gimp to his steps, but he made his way to the Iron Throne, his crown of rubies and steel, and greeted his mother and the queen. This joyous moment died as I was tasked to share the news of the death of Aemond, of my husband and father of my unborn child; we cried our heartbreak, but I had no tears left.

This pivotal moment would be known as the Hour of the Wolf by our history. It will speak of the heroism of Prince Aemond and what he sacrificed to kill the Rogue Prince, of how my brother descended onto the capital with a vengeance and helped return the throne to its rightful heir. The casualties of war included the bastard princes, as well as both sons of the king.

When King Aegon learned that Prince Daeron the Daring met his fatal end, he decided mercy on the remaining Targaryen princelings, Aegon III and Viserys II, with his solemn vow to raise them as his own, as his heirs to the Iron Throne.

Cregan served as Lord Hand through my pregnancy, for the birth of my darling Lysara with a patch of silver that showed against her dark curls and her eyes the same as her father’s, lavender. My brother had also been widowed but met the Lady Alysanna Blackwood, a woman I admired fiercely, and Lysara was smitten with, and was thrilled when I learned I could call her sister.

It was then Cregan asked to be relieved so he could return to the North, to his son, and I asked to go with him. My time in King’s Landing was over, with every stone haunted with presence of Aemond; I already swore I would never marry again, would not dare have another set of hands touch and taint the memory of his hands against my body, his touch forever etched onto my skin and seeded into the marrow of my bones.

Aemond would return to me at night, a silver dream, my body thrumming with the warmth of his touch, his gentle kiss, the low murmur of his voice, but it always ended the same: my realization when my hands pressed to his chest and felt no heartbeat.

That I would never feel it again.

The pain of losing him has not dimmed nor diminished with time, but I do not mind it as it serves as my reminder that he was real, and that the love we shared was real.

As the witch predicted, Aemond also still lived within Lysara who was solemn, brilliant, and as determined and stubborn as he had been. I made sure to do an annual trip to King’s Landing, allowing her to meet her granddam, her royal family, and so that my daughter could learn that her blood not only held that of the Andals, the first men, but also of the fire that licks within her veins.

Which is also why I write this, along with the gift of the necklace. It holds legacy, but also the reminder of the words Queen Helaena spoke to me when we were girls, something said a lifetime ago and before I could comprehend the weight of them.

There is something in the blood of House Stark that calls out to these dragons, perhaps an ancient power of the old gods or a kindred spirit, the disparate bond of ice and fire, a clash that is brilliant, violent, and tragic, always.

As she once said: a song of ice and fire, it is a tragedy, again and again…

It ended with a finality that rested against her chest. This was a tragic history of the crown, something already written with facts and dates, but this was a personal storying stemming from the blood of Stark woman, and only now did Lyanna begin to understand how the stories remained so vivid, so detailed despite its years of retelling.

But also…

“What does this mean for me?” Her voice was soft, an almost childlike naivety to her tone. “I am already engaged to Robert Baratheon.”

Her granddam watched her, a tight lipped smile in response as her mind returned to the feast of last night, to the looks shyly exchanged between her granddaughter and the crowned prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, as he played his harp for her. It left her unsettled with a hunch, an inkling about this interaction.

Instead she agreed. “You are right,” and she sighed. “Let me help you get dressed for the tourney.”

The new Harranhal swelled with the life for the festivities, with the kingdoms’ best sent in response of Lord Whent’s invites; the new cobblestone seemed bright against the darkened foundation that still held, its ghosts trapped still and trampled underfoot by the crowds as the seats filled, the echoing chattered excitement that vibrated.

It dimmed with a hushed reverence to see Prince Rhaegar Targaryen entering the field on his steed; his lavender eyes scanned the masses, an intent to spot one soul in particular, and she unknowingly called to him with her sweet smile, by the glint of the sapphire that rested against her chest.

There's not one thing that I would change.

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x stark!reader #tragic romance #inspired by hozier #ours never knew peace #rhaegar targaryen #lyanna stark #rhaegar x lyanna

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