#just to be told to go play fetch

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

People who only view the Singularity as some robot animal pet

Read the tags before you come at me

[solanumflare]

just because i am sitting down and doing an activity that's not "productive" doesn't mean i am being lazy and doing nothing, nor does it mean i have the capacity to stand up and do tasks. hope this helps <3

[the-best-bagel]

free roaming outdoor dogs a la cats are not a good idea and are just asking for injuries and conflict but unfortunately i've only ever had great experiences growing up in a neighborhood with a handful of those dogs and i miss themmmmm

[limyted]

“You Called My Liege?”

Yandere King x Jester! GN Reader

Tw: Dubcon/non-con,, obsessive,, possessive,, controlling,, NSFW.,, ALL CHARACTERS 18+ PLEASE.

Words: 1.6k words

Yandere Prince! Who had first seen you when you had walked in with you dad, your family had been a family of Jesters for the Royal Family for centuries for now.

Yandere Prince! Who met you when his father has introduced you two to each other, explaining that you will be his Jester when he is the future King, with that a bond had started to grow between you too.

Yandere Prince! Who has always been blunt, stoic and short tempered, but when being around your cheeky and playful personality and eventually his stiff personality melts away and welcomes you, soon enough you two would play around places around the Palace whenever your dad was called upon by his father.

Yandere Prince! Who killed his father when he had suggested that he was just maybe too close with his Jester, that it was inappropriate to be friends with his Jester. Who did his father think he was telling him what to do with HIS Jester?

He dropped the blooded sword, as he kicked the former king's head away from him.

“Clean this up.” he lazily gazed into the dreary eyes of his father, his voice devoid of any guilt or remorse.

“Burn the body and fetch me my jester.” A small smile spreading across his features at the thought of you as he pushed past the stunned maids who hurriedly obeyed, they wouldn't want face the wrath of the kings short temper.

Yandere Prince! Who has you by his side the whole coronation, and he gets a thrill when you called him “My Liege” for the first time.

Your skin warm from laying on grass, sun blazing on your skin, hands intertwined with the teenage future king, he was squeezing your hand as if trying to keep you from running away from him, but you decided not to pay it any mind.

You felt a slight tug, and you hummed softly.

“I don't wanna marry someone I don't know or even love,” He said, frustration and exasperation laced in his voice “but my father insisted it was a necessity for the economy of our kingdom.”

“If it's an economic boost you need, why not hold a royal jousting tournament?” You said softly chuckling at your own joke “Loser buys dinner... or a bride”

He looked at you deadpanned, you softly rolled your eyes.

“Who would you even marry?” You teased him softly “I don't know of anyone you fancy.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned, as he put his hand on your chin tilting it to face him. “But to answer your question, My fool, you would be my bride.”

You weren't really sure if the king was joking or not, so you had changed the subject instead.

As you walked down the halls of the Jesters towers, the king had requested for you the usual spot, the throne room, a room you've grown very accustomed to.

The door to the room had no guards protecting it, so you had entered. There sat the king on his righteous throne, his hand resting in his chin and legs crossed, clearly in deep thought.

“You called My Liege?” You said as you bowed, dipping low and a playful smile on your face. The king who's eyes now locked with yours, had merely patted the arm rail of his throne, you obliged.

“Tell me..” he says as he snakes his arm loosely around your waist, shifting in his seat to be closer with you.

You hummed lightly, it wasn't weird that the king was being so … affectionate, he'd always wanted to be close with you.

“Do you recall when I told you that I would make you my bride?” He asked, with a tone unrecognisable to you.

“Oh your little quip?” You answered, focusing on his thumb rubbing your waist slowly, his hand slowly making its way down.

He let out a lifeless, breathy snicker, “I do not jest, that is your job.”

!!Nsfw!!

He lifts you up, placing you on his lap, rocking you back and forth, you can feel his hardened cock against your entrance.

“But if you're going to be my bride, I need everyone to know you’re mine.” He said as he digs his hands into your waist.

“I think it's better to marry someone who..” You pause, as you try to squirm off his lap, but he holds you down, “Is more equipped to be a monarch.”

“You'd make a perfect spouse for me” He says as kisses and bites your neck, as he rips your clothes off your body, the cold air hitting your skin, makes you shiver.

You let out a soft gasp at the feeling of him biting your neck. “I'm gonna have to stretch you out,” He says as pushes two fingers into and you gasp loudly, pushing yourself against his chest.

With every sweet sound you let out he can feel his cock and precum coating his undergarments, he pumps his fingers roughly.

“Wow, you must really want to be filled, your greedy hole is taking my fingers so well,” He says as he picks up the pace of his fingers “has someone ever pleasured you so well?”

You already feel your climax close, but he pulls his fingers out “You don't release unless I tell you too, My Fool.”

You whine at the emptiness that fills you now. “Stand.” Nothing but hunger in voice, afraid you obey, you had seen what he was capable of with his sword.

He took off his clothing as you, his long and hard cock, throbbing and the tip glistening with precum.

He had grabbed you and bent you over the very same arm rail you sat on, he slowly pushed himself into your hole, grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a hard slap, his hands travelling from your ass to your hip, letting out a loud groan.

“Oh fuck, you feel just right, your hole wraps around me so perfectly” he said with a dreamy like voice.

“What about the maids and butlers, I don't wanna be seen in this case” you said trying to bite back the moans that are bubbling in your throat.

“If they even dare to look, I'll kill them, your body is only for my eyes,” He says, thrusting deeply into you at every word he says, unable to keep your moans anymore, you let out loud moans that fill the room and his groans as well.

With each deep thrust you feel your climax closing in, and you can tell he is too with his fastened pace and his balls slapping your skin.

“Please cum with me, please, please, please” he whines and pants as he trails his hands up your back and pulls you as you both release, you relax as his semen feels warm.

The King picks you up, his hard cock still twitching inside you, and puts you on the throne.

“I'm not finished, My Darling.”

[strngedve]

We know Castiel is based on Cassiel the archangel but my favorite little headcanon is that he was the archangel Cassiel.

He was created as the angel of Saturday, patron of the vulernable and the overlooked, the angel of tears, angel of temperance.

But that was it, wasn't it? Castiel lacked temperance -- He could never be like the other angels, God hadn't created him to be a warrior like his brothers; Cassiel was a gift to humans, the angel of strife and duality, something so fundamental to humanity. The only angel who could really understand them. The angel who sat and watched, waiting to be called upon to deliver peace. Cassiel was God's love for humanity. How could God not know Cassiel would get too close, too involved with humankind? Maybe he did, but he could never know his own love would ever defy him. Maybe he could never know that whatever he burned with his divine love was also scorched with his divine wrath, enough of it to break ranks when he finally tired of watching Heaven play with the Earth.

So God punished him, bent him into the shape of a solider and named him the shield of God as a reminder of what his role had always been. But Cassiel was special, he would always be special, so he disguised Cas, protecting him from the persecution of the other angels. Maybe he even wipes it all from Cas' mind, gets rid of the memory of rebellion before Cas can hurt himself with it again.

And Castiel does it right this time. He stays just as detached as he needs to be, he protects only who he needs to protect, he does only what he is told to do. So God gives him another chance, another opportunity to prove himself with something big, the perfect task for his angel of the vulnerable.

Go fetch Dean Winchester.

What could go wrong?

[ajortga]

soft spot

word count: 1.2k+

summary: the only thing wednesday can tolerate is you, and she feels something when she sees a side of you that is rarely shown.

a/n: my mind is actually so overstimulated too much has happened this past week

-

With break season occurring, school being out for a week meant babysitting your younger siblings and nieces back at home with your family. It was getting to Wednesday, you could tell.

She had wanted to spend spring break with you. Maybe walking down-town of Jericho, fetch a brew of coffee, play tricks with the others. Being with kids for almost all of it was not something she wanted to do.

She wasn’t good with kids. Pugsley was already enough for her. He wasn’t like her. Pugsley was filled with stupidity, he was too unaware, making him the perfect target to be shut in a locker after school.

Pugsley never learned from her, always ending up in lockers. And Wednesday always had to be the one to get him out.

It made her want to pull her braids out.

You had no say on going back home, it was mandatory. But, you wanted to see your family, your older siblings, younger ones, their children. 

Besides the passive-aggressiveness Wednesday had when talking about the feisty children, you loved them. They were a soulful, bundle of joy. Minus the fact that they loved tugging on whatever hair they could get hands on.

You left that part out to Wednesday.

Wednesday grumbled as you tugged on her sleeve to your aunt’s house. You begrudgingly let her carry your bags that were needed for the next two nights.

“It’ll be fun, baby,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes at her, “they aren’t as bad as you’re thinking they’ll be, I promise.” 

Hopefully.

-

As soon as you open the door, you’re greeting with three little children coming at you.

“Auntie Y/N!” They squeal happily, giggling and dropping their toys as you toss your purse to the side and wrap your arms around them.

They hug you tightly as you lift them off the floor and spin them around. They definitely grew from the last time you saw them, and to say the least, so did you. It had only been a year, but our hair grew out, you no longer had braces, and everybody but the little ones had met Wednesday.

“You’ve guys grown so much!” You grunt as you prop them down. The feeling was nostalgic, the smell of home-made food, the photos of your family, it looked just like how it looked a long time ago.

You turn to Wednesday, taking her hand and pulling her to your side. She traced the knuckles on the back of your hand, looking down at it.

“This is my girlfriend, Wednesday. She, brought something for you guys-”

“Ice cream?”

“Toys?”

“A taxidermy. Y/N told me you guys like birds.” Wednesday said, taking out a black bird and showing it to the three. “It’s a raven.”

The little girl looks up at her, then you. "What's a taxidermy?"

You blink, eyes flickering around, "You'll find out when you're older."

You rubbed her back, she was trying to make a good first impression. 

It was silent for a moment, one of nieces taking the raven in her hand as the others observed it. Then they squealed. “I love him!”

It came in suite, the children holding onto Wednesday’s legs. “I like her!”

“Mommy! Y/N’s friend brought us a stuffie! It looks so real!”

Her pursed lips twitch up slightly as you turn to her, a smile gracing your face. “They like you.”

-

Curled up in the corner of the couch, Wednesday’s eyes are glued onto her book. You’re buried with her, snoozing with a blanket over you. Her thin hands play with your hair as your eyes slightly flutter.

It makes her press a small kiss to the side of your head.

A loud, angry cry from the kitchen stirred you up, your eyes bleary as you try getting up. Wednesday stops you with a hand on your hip. 

“Stop pushing me, Maya!”

“It’s my turn!”

You groan, your body groggy as you get up and head to the kitchen, Wednesday following suite. Her ears felt like they were bleeding from their screaming. 

“Hey, hey, guys, what’s going on? What happened?” You murmur, bending down to the kitchen floor with your nieces and nephews. They were so loud that they could barely hear you, causing Wednesday to pick one up to shut them up.

“Maya pushed me when I was playing..” Michael, the one in Wednesday’s arms, said.

Maya pouted, looking up at you with the ipad in her hand. “I didn’t mean to, I was trying to get the game from him.”

Your other niece, Genevie, the youngest, had chocolate ice cream over her face, looking clueless. You scoop her up and wipe her mouth with a towel. 

“Well, Maya, it’s not nice to push. But Michael, we don’t have to scream if it was an accident. Okay?” You place Genevie back on the floor to let her run around. “Next time we can say it nicely so we don’t push others on accident, okay?”

Your voice was soft, gentle, it shocked Wednesday that you hadn’t gotten upset as she set Michael back down.

They both look at each other and nod, murmuring their apologies. 

“I’ll let you both have my phone so you can both play. And then I’ll make some pasta for dinner, sound good?”

“Can we have mac n cheese?” Michael asked.

“No! You got to choose last time Michael!” Maya cried, “Can it be tomato?”

Wednesday grumbled, “At this point, give them spider soup.”

You sigh deeply, giving them a small smile. “I can make both. You guys want garlic bread with it?”

“Yeah!”

-

A couple hours later, you were back in Wednesday’s arms, playing with Genevie’s hair and tying it into a braid. “You want butterflies in them?” You ask softly, grabbing a few clips from the table beside you as a rubber band was tucked against your teeth.

Wednesday watched you, at Nevermore, you were always more closed-off. Well, until people got to know you, you were an energetic ball of nature. Seeing you now was something new to her. Sure you were always sweet to people, but she had never seen you this gentle or motherly.

Small butterfly clips are added onto your niece’s hair as you smile at her, “All done. You look just like the fairy in the movie you watched, Genny.” You grab a mirror and hand it to her as she smiles at her reflection, giggling.

Genevie launches herself at you, hugging you tightly. “I love it, Auntie Y/N!” 

You giggle, rubbing her shoulder. “You wanna learn how to do it on somebody’s hair?”

Her eyes almost sparkle, “Who’s?”

Slowly, you look at Wednesday, giving her a pleading flutter of your lashes. 

She looks at you, nose wrinkling, “Seriously?”

-

Your girlfriend looks at you most of the time while you and Genevie do her hair, which is currently looking like she just came out of a unicorn balloon park. Also minus the fact that she keeps giving small glares at your niece when she tugs too hard on her hair, forcing you to be the one to tell her to tone it down.

You can tell that she's looking at you, by the way it's quiet, besides the sounds of your mingling breaths. "Thinking about me?"

When you look at her, she has this curiosity in her eyes, a thoughtful look. You tilt your head, a confused noise coming out of your mouth.

"I just never seen you around children before. Nuisances. It's.. Different. You're sweet."

You smile, looking back at her hair, about to say something, till Genevie shakes your wrist to help her.

“Okay, so three strands, okay, yes, yes, I’ll teach you how to do a french braid AFTER. Okay, one here.” You guide Genevie’s hands as she messily braids Wednesday’s hair. 

She pulls a strand.

Wednesday inhales, giving a glare, which is softer than most, at you.

“Genevie, you know how to be gentle, let’s do that.”

She looks up at you, her eyes wide, lips curled into a small pout. “Okay.” 

Wednesday exhales, until you nudge Genevie and she tugs it again.

“Y/N!"

-

[autonomousroboticorganism]

you hide attempt to hide an injury from them (TF Prime)

featuring - Optimus Prime x F!Reader, Bumblebee x F!Reader, Smokescreen x F!Reader, Knock Out x F!Reader, Wheeljack x F!Reader, Soundwave x F!Reader, Shockwave x F!Reader

summary - you play soccer and get injured, then try your best to play it off (Autobots), you get hurt on the Nemesis and try to play it off (Decepticons)

warnings - none

a/n - writing this the night before an extremely important soccer tournament my team is in, this tournament decides whether or not we go to the second highest woman's league in our country. in case anyone was wondering, one of my teammates did break her arm during one game so it's possible.

OPTIMUS PRIME - broken arm

You don't know how it happened. One minute you're making a tackle, the next you're rolling around on the ground clutching your arm. Your scream of pain alerted the referee, who promptly stopped the game so you could be rushed to the hospital. However, not wanting your big robot lover to worry, you put on a long sleeve shirt at home before going to the base so you could pretend nothing was wrong.

"(Name), why is your one arm thicker than the other?" Miko asked you, tilting her head as her eyes settled on your limp limb.

"Uh, no reason," you lied, then sighed when she gave you a look. "Okay, I broke my arm in a friendly work soccer game today. I just don't want Optimus to know. You know how he worries."

"You do know broken arms take weeks to heal right?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "How are you going to hide it for so long?"

"Hide what for so long?" The leader of the Autobots asked as he came into the room, having heard your voice. "(Name), I was just leaving to come fetch you."

"Oh, no need," you smiled, "I called for a groundbridge."

Jack and Miko exchanged looks, but it wasn't that that alerted the Prime. His gaze fell upon your arm, and though he was no expert in human biology, he definitely knew that they were supposed to be the same size.

"What happened?" He asked, approaching the platform. "What is wrong with your arm?"

As Jack and Miko gave you 'I told you so' looks, you were forced to tell him the truth about your injury, "I had a friendly soccer match today at work, a game we like to play. And I, uh, broke my arm."

The bot's optics went wide when you said that, and he gently took your broken arm into one of his servos, "Were you not going to tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," you told him. "You have enough to worry about already."

"I will always worry about you, regardless of what other problems I am facing," he scooped you up onto his servo entirely. "Please do not hesitate to tell me, so that I can assist you in any way you need."

You smiled softly, wrapping your good arm around his one digit in a half-hug, "Thank you, love. I'll try to be more careful next time."

The Prime nodded in agreement, then proceeded to carry you around the whole day and help you with whatever you needed or wanted to do. He then let you rest on him, knowing hurt humans needed just as much downtime as hurt Autobots.

BUMBLEBEE - sprained ankle

"I can do this, I can do this..."

"Uh...(Name)?"

You glanced up at your fellow humans as they gaped at you. YOu were sure you had been doing your best to look like you were walking normally, but from the expressions on their faces you assumed you were doing a terrible job.

"What happened?"

"Nothing?" You tried with a nervous smile.

"Come on," Jack encouraged, "You're obviously limping."

You groaned, "Okay, my soccer game was a little rougher than expected. In a difficult tackle, I fell and my foot twisted awkwardly. I have a minor sprain, so I should be good in a few days."

"Do you plan to tell Bee?"

"No, he's only going to worry. Please don't tell him."

Plan Don't Tell Bumblebee fell on its face when the Autobot rolled up to the school to fetch you and Raf. Arcee and Bulkhead also came through, so Raf left you on your own and joined Miko in Bulkhead.

"Raf!" You protested.

"Sorry!" He apologised sheepishly. "I can't do it!"

Once you were sitting in the passenger seat of the scout, he beeped in concern asking what was wrong with your foot.

Your jaw dropped, "How did you-"

He responded with a few more beeps, saying that he wouldn't be a very good scout if he didn't pick up on cues or signs while observing something. You sighed and looked down.

"I...sprained my ankle. In a soccer match."

Worried beeps and whirrs followed that admission, and he started fussing over you and telling you rest when you got back to base. That he would do all your running around or get Jack or Miko to help. And that you were to see June immediately.

"Bee," you whined in complaint, "It's a minor sprain! It'll be healed in a few days, I have a good biokineticist."

He wasn't having any of that, insisting that you see June or you don't get kisses or cuddles from him. You gaped at the steering wheel.

"Bumblebee!" You gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"

He beeped, try me.

"That's so mean," you pouted. "But fine. Since my boyfriend wants to be a big bad bully."

He protested, making you laugh, but proceeded to ensure that you did what he asked at the base. And that you didn't have to walk on your foot any longer than necessary. Overkill for a baby sprain, but you didn't play with kisses and cuddles from the bot.

SMOKESCREEN - torn hamstring

It was extremely difficult to hide this one. When it happened, you screamed and cried like you'd been shot in the leg, because that's exactly what it felt like. Tearing your hamstring was no joke, it was a serious injury that really hampered your ability to walk.

"He's not going to like this," Arcee shifted her weight, uneasy.

"Please?" You begged. "He's going to scold me like I scold him."

"Well, he's not going to be back for a few hours, so maybe we can come up with a story?" Bulkhead suggested, while June was tending to your injury.

"Like what?"

"Hey guys, what are we talking about?" The bot in question popped up behind Bulkhead, but thankfully couldn't see.

"Uh, nothing!" The Wrecker steered him away. "Nurse Darby is just taking a look at Raf. He has a bad cold." Everyone stared at Bulkhead, but he pointed at a very proud-looking Miko.

"Wait, but let me greet (Name)," Smokescreen tried to push his way through. "She came just now, didn't she?"

"She's tired!" Arcee butted in, "Had a long day at university."

"Oh..." Smokescreen deflated. "Well then, tell her I hope she's not walking on that leg she injured." He said it so nonchalantly, you all had to do a double take.

"What?!"

"(Name)," your lover sighed, "I finished my mission early. Tailed you for most of the day. You don't think I would notice?"

You groaned, "It isn't what you think-"

"I just want to make sure you're okay," he bent down to look at you closer when the others finally parted to let him through. "My girlfriend is in pain, I want to help."

You smiled up at him, "You're so sweet, Smoke. Okay, I'll stay off this leg, Nurse Darby is giving me crutches anyway."

"Oh no, I'll carry you."

"Smoke...I have lectures..."

"You're not going."

"For weeks?"

"...Okay, just for the rest of this week," he suggested. "I want to spend time with my physically impaired girlfriend."

"Hey!" You protested. "Who taught Smokescreen those words?!"

Smokescreen just laughed as he scooped you up, gently so as not to aggravate your injury, and held you close to his chassis. He observed your bruised, swollen leg, lips twisting into a frown at the sight. He didn't like seeing you hurt, especially if he couldn't have protected you from it.

"Come on you, we're going to rest and watch movies for the rest of the week." You tried to protest, but he was having none of it.

He took you to his berthroom and lay you down in a comfortable position, making sure to elevate your leg so that you could rest comfortably.

KNOCK OUT - torn MCL (a knee ligament)

The moment your cry of pain echoed through the hallways of the Nemesis, every vehicon in the vicinity froze up. The mad doctor was sure to hear of this, and they could do nothing to stop the wrath he would no doubt inflict on them for this. They hadn't mean to hurt you, but they had also been a bit rougher than they were supposed to and this fact scared them.

"Please don't tell him," one of them pleaded with you.

"Fine, but one of you needs to carry me to his lab because I'm pretty sure I hurt my knee."

You had befriended some of them, others weren't keen on you, but you knew that these ones were being honest. Decepticons in general didn't know how to handle human beings, so it came as no surprise to you that you got hurt.

But Knock Out would strap them to his lab table and open them up if he found out, so you agreed to try and keep it a secret.

The vehicon carrying you lay you down on your boyfriend's tool table, before quickly scurrying out of the room. You watched Knock Out tend to a comatose Megatron, unsure if he had even heard you come in.

"What was that about?" He asked, confirming that he had.

"Oh, uh, nothing," you dismissed it, "I just got too tired to walk back, so I asked one of the vehicons to carry me back."

This got the mad doctor's attention, "What?" His optics zeroed in on you sitting on the table, and he instantly grew suspicious. You were normally active. "Where is your pain?"

"That's so unfair!" You crossed your arms. "You know me too well."

"I'm your boyfriend, darling," he smirked, "I should. Now tell me what those idiots did to you before I go ask them myself."

"We were just playing," you assured him, "I fell, tried to land on my feet and overextended my leg. I heard a pop in my knee, and then felt excruciating pain. Now it feels like my bones are knocking around if I try to walk."

"..." The medic was not amused. "When were you planning to tell me?"

"Uh..."

"You do realise they could have hurt you worse, or even..." He shut his optics and sighed, "Never mind. Let me see." He abandoned Megatron to come look at you, using a tool to scan your knee. "Hmmm, a ligament tear. Not a very serious one, but you'll still be on bedrest for six weeks."

"What?!"

"That's what you get for playing rough, my dear. Now come here, let me distract you from the pain."

His distraction in question was a kiss, before he researched what to do with your injury and got the necessary items to strap you up and brace your knee to stabilise it.

"No strenuous activity for six weeks, other than walking. Even then, keep it short and only when necessary."

"...Fine, Doc Knock."

"Don't call me that!"

WHEELJACK - shin splints

This one didn't kick in until a day after you'd played the game. You'd been teaching Wheeljack and Bulkhead how to play the human sport, and forgotten to properly stretch beforehand. You'd also forgotten that you hadn't played in months. So your shins were strained from overuse after months of inactivity, leaving an incredibly painful burning sensation the next day.

You tried to walk into base looking like you were fine, but your pained expression attracted attention from Bumblebee, who beeped in worry.

"Don't worry Bee, I'm fine," you smiled, but it was a tight one.

Wheeljack and Bulkhead returned from scouting an Energon mine a few moments later, the former immediately picking you up and placing you on his shoulder, missing the pain etched on your face.

"How was your day, sweetheart?" He asked you. "Got into any trouble?"

"No," you admitted, trying to sound upset about it. You also tried to appear nonchalant on his shoulder pad, but that was doing too much and ultimately outed you.

"And what might be the problem with you?" He turned his helm to study your figure. "What's hurting?"

"You don't miss a beat, do you?" You sighed.

"Not when it comes to my only reason for staying on this rock," he smirked, then held you up in his servo to be eye-level with him. "Now tell me, what happened?"

You sighed, "I kind of picked up an old injury after our session yesterday. Just shin splints, nothing serious. They're painful, but minor. They'll go away soon, they always do."

"Anything I can do to help?" He offered.

"Just maybe ask Nurse Darby for some ice, please?"

"You got it."

He set you down on the couch by the TV in the base, then went off to find June, or even Jack. He returned a few minutes later with an ice pack in his servo, and scooped you up again.

"I can press it to my shin myself, you know!" Your cheeks burned, getting flustered.

"Maybe I want to do it for you," he argued.

Your eyes went wide, and you grew even more flustered. An uncontrollable smile formed on your lips, and you lay back on his servo as he pressed the tiny bag to your shin.

"And don't hide any injury from me again, sweetheart."

SOUNDWAVE - concussion

This one was completely by accident and totally embarrassing. You were trying to find your own way up onto his berth, not wanting to bother him by calling for help. But you had made it only a few feet up the side before your foot slipped, and you fell. Your head hit the ground a little too hard, and your vision blurred for a moment. You groaned as you pushed yourself up, but your head began to throb uncontrollably.

"That's just great," you mumbled, rubbing your temples. But when you tried to stand up, you swayed on your feet and stumbled forward, unable to stay balanced. "Concussion, nice."

The Decepticon chose that moment to enter his berthroom, his helm tilting down slightly as he observed you for a moment. He already knew what had happened, he was the eyes and ears of the cons after all, so there was no point trying to hide it.

"I'm fine, Soundwave," you tried reassuring him, but you couldn't even walk to him in a straight line. "Okay, I'll BE fine soon."

He was having none of it, picking you up gently and laying you on his berth. His screen lit up with a question mark, a silent plea to tell him why you hadn't asked him for help.

"I didn't want to bother you," you admitted, casting your gaze to the floor. "You're busy with important stuff."

He bent down in front of you, pointing at you and displaying a red heart on his visor. Meaning - you were important to him too, and he cared about your wellbeing. Then he displayed another screen, which showed tutorials on how to ask for help.

"Ha, ha. So funny," you replied dryly. "But I'm sorry, I just wanted to try and not be useless or helpless for once."

He shook his head, denying that you were any of those. Then he put his visor close to your face, and typed one word onto it: Rest. He wanted you to relax, because you had sustained a concussion.

"Alright, alright," you gave in, laying back down on his berth. You smiled, feeling warm inside at his attempts to take care of you.

And he did so quite well for a Cybertronian accused of having no feeling or emotion. He made sure to get you painkillers and water, an ice pack, and your favourite snacks. How he got them, you didn't want to know. You were just grateful for the love he was showering you with.

SHOCKWAVE - broken nose

Shockwave wasn't in the lab for once, having been ordered by Megatron to go and retrieve more predacon remains. Starscream stormed in, absolutely furious with the Decepticon scientist, and when his optics landed on you he knew the perfect way to get back at Shockwave. Which was why you now lay on the ground, listening to Starscream's laughter fade as he left, tears streaming down your face with blood streaming out of your nose. It was broken, that much you knew, but you were in too much pain to get up.

But when you heard Shockwave's familiar heavy footsteps and his voice briefing Megatron outside, you quickly sat up and wiped your blood off the floor with your shirt, then ripped a piece off and tried to stop the bleeding. You turned away from the door, hoping Megatron and Shockwave wouldn't see you.

"(Name), is everything alright?"

You nodded, "Yes, I'm okay Shockwave. Don't worry."

"So that's what Starscream was so happy about," Megatron mused. "Tend to your pet, Shockwave, and then brief me on your latest developments." With that, he left the room.

"(Name), what happened?" Shockwave asked, picking you up off the floor. "Why is there blood on your clothes and a piece of your t-shirt in your nose?"

You sighed and pulled the reddened material out, allowing blood to gush out once more as you teared up, "Starscream." Your bottom lip trembled, and the pained expression on your face told Shockwave enough, as did the sight of your misshapen nose.

"I will tend to your wounds," your boyfriend began, "And then I will see to it that Starscream be punished for this inexcusable and cowardly act."

"Thank you," you responded quietly.

He helped stop your bleeding, and bandaged your nose. Then he made sure the rest of your body was fine, before he set you down on his table.

"Wait for me here, I shall return to give you physical affection after Starscream has been dealt with."

You smiled at him and nodded, warmth filling you at how much he cared about you and how much he was willing to do for you. You relaxed in the lab while he went to deal with Starscream, and when he returned he delivered the affection he promised. Which was mostly cradling you in his servo or letting you curl up against his neck cables. Nonetheless, you were happy and soon fell asleep as the pain medication kicked in.

[tojisteddy]

Sukuna’s favorite part of the day is yours— when you get to dress him for the day.

Every morning is the same and Sukuna loves it that way.

He hears you when you quietly come in before dawn and sit on the floor, ideally waiting for him to call out to you to get his robe. But he grumbles maybe five or ten minutes later, turning in the bed, and motioning with his hand for you to come.

“Come here little one, let’s sleep more.”

And your heart beats outs out of your chest, coming over and laying on the bed. But he pulls you into his warm arms, an incoherent grumble leaving his pink lips as he cuddles his messy pink hair in the crook of your neck.

You’re not sure if he just likes your touch or not or if he sees you as a body pillow, but it makes your heart speed up nonetheless. You fall asleep not long after, waking up to the sun creeping in. That’s when you know it’s time to wake Sukuna up, you pat his back looking up at his handsome sleeping face.

“It’s time to wake up my lord,” you speak and it’s like music to his ears. But he mumbles something you can’t understand, but hes said ‘again’ he wants to hear your ever so melodic voice again. When you do, you quickly climb out off the large bed, grabbing the large black robe and slipping it on to him right as he stands from the bed.

He watches your every move as you make your away around the room, straight into the closet and coming out with his the attire he’ll wear today.

He’s practically silent as you prepare him for the day, still in a sleepy haze. But you move ever so meticulously, standing on the stool to properly dress him. Your hands are all over him, his black markings and tan skin, his muscles— you both love it. Smoothing out any wrinkles that may be on his yukata and tying them perfectly, big brown eyes taking in the God while correcting every crease of his attire and, getting down from the stool to style his pink locks.

His low red eyes watch you in the mirror, he asks, “And what will you do today, pet?”

Sukuna knows Uraume will give him his own run down of what he will do today as soon as he steps outside of his chambers, but he’d rather hear about what you’ll do for the meer short time you’re apart. The silly, fickle things he yearns to hear you talk about.

The simplicity of your life, he adores.

It’s still hard for you to wrap your head around it. Your role around the palace has- changed. Not title wise (officially) but you don’t take orders from anyone but the King of Curses.

You don’t help the other servant if you can’t squeeze in time to, you don’t wait outside his chambers for him to come back, you don’t go fetch as much for him because Sukuna believes you’re so fragile.

You’re Sukuna’s personal lap cat.

He tells you to go play when you’re done eating breakfast and cleaning his chambers— to enjoy yourself before he fetches to you be with him from lunch until the end of the night.

You don’t get it, but you try.

You think for a moment about his words— what to do today, what to do today-

“I-I think I’ll go to the library and then work on my kite in the garden.”

A kite, your brand new interest you’ve been absorbed in after reading about it. Sukuna told you he’d have 4 beautiful, professionally painted ones made specifically for you, but you told him you’d want to do it by yourself. It was harder than you thought, but it made you want your own work to sore with the clouds more and more.

Sickeningly adorable. What a hard working human. A wonderful mind.

“It will be fantastic pet. Show it to me soon, yes?”

And you bashfully nod, so sure of his words, your own tiny doubt flying away by his little encouragement.

The man stands from the mirror, all done with the preparation for the day and caresses your brown skin, cupping your cheek in his hand, then lifting you chin with his finger to look at him. He’s handsome as ever, he always is.

So astoundingly beautiful his little human was. He couldn’t get enough of you. Soon you’d be in his arms again. Maybe he’d send for you sooner. He always yearned for more time. A minute more, a second more.

“Be good for me pet.”

“Yes my lord.”

He walks away to the chamber doors, lower set of eyes stealing one last glance at you before opening them wide, closing them shut behind him. Walking right into his busy day.

And it’s the same every morning.

Sukuna loves it that way.

a/n: no one gives af but dude I love them.

most recent masterlist

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (12)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, mentions of cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships, illnesses

notes. 11k wc. finally. i wrote this with only one eye open so please don't mind the inconsistencies, i'm trying my best to tie any loose ends before we reach the ending. if the writing feels rushed, it’s bcos i’m just ready to wrap up this series 😭

series masterlist -> episode thirteen

You thought everything that had happened last night was just a dream. 

Because you had gotten used to the constant disappointments and vicissitudes of your life, sharing such domestic bliss with the person you loved had started to feel far-fetched for you. It had become an unachievable fantasy, a colorful delusion created by your mind to conceal the actual darkness of pain that surrounded it. 

But as you opened your eyes that morning, the familiar warmth of a sleeping Satoru’s embrace was the reality you never saw coming. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal—like a fragile dream teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now. To forget about the rest of the damn world and remain in his arms, staring at his beautiful saintly face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.

When Satoru stirred from his sleep, you knew your daydream was over. But he was pulling you dangerously close with arms wrapped around your frame and his lips pressed against your forehead. He was only half-awake, it seemed. His long white lashes reminded you of Sachiro’s as you watched him mumble incoherent words from his sleep, something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Akemi’. 

That was your cue to pull yourself away from him. With guilt now coursing through your body, you sat up from bed and covered your naked body with the duvet. Akemi. You had completely abandoned the thought of Akemi last night, and now you were here in bed with ‘supposedly’ her man. As much as your heart was in bliss from last night’s events, the dark and cold reality was that you slept with a man who wasn’t yours. It was a principle you told yourself you would never cross, but everything concerning Satoru Gojou seemed to be bringing you to that. 

“Satoru, hey.” Your voice almost came out as a plea as you shook his arm, your guilt eating at you with every minute that passed. “Wake up.” 

His eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, blinded by the sunlight that gleamed through the window as he stretched his arms and looked at you. “Y/N?” he softly whispered, a hand tenderly placed on your back as he scooted closer. “What’s wrong?” 

Slight disbelief blanketed your gaze. “You think this isn’t wrong?” 

Satoru let out a sigh of exasperation, pulling his head back, and covering his eyes with a hand as if last night’s events played through his mind scene to scene. He was obviously caught in a mindwreck thinking about the girl he had just cheated on. “It shouldn’t be,” he mumbled, “But it feels like it.”

“So you do regret it,” you laughed at your own words, internally in pain. 

“I didn’t say that.” He finally pulled himself back up, sitting as he pulled you towards him. “Y/N, if we really thought last night was wrong, we would have stopped after the first time.” He shook his head at the irony. “Look, it’s on me, alright? I put you in this situation.” 

“And I allowed it,” you argued, “I allowed it, Satoru. It makes me feel dirty. I feel like, like I’m wrecking someone else’s home. It’s not me.” 

Satoru held his breath, a look of hesitation dawning on his face as he realized that this wasn’t just a dream of his. It was pure and raw reality that he had made a mistake that he could never undo. While thinking it through, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaning against the headboard as he assessed the situation. Then, he looked at you, his expression softening as he spoke, “No, not your fault. It’s just complicated,” he insisted, “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who owes ‘Kemi an apology.” 

Each time you heard her nickname from him was a punch to your gut. And each silent cuss that left his lips was an arrow to your heart. So you put it on yourself to accept his reaction. “It’s okay. You can be honest and say last night was a mistake.”

“No, no, no. I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly, reaching out to take your hand. 

But you already stood up from the bed, clutching the duvet around your body like a shield against the encroaching chill. Your throat felt tight, and tears threatened to spill, but you fought to keep them at bay. Satoru’s gaze followed you with an expression of helplessness, as if he was struggling to bridge the gap between his rights and wrongs.

As you turned to face him, a knot of frustration and heartache tangled within you. “So, what now?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure. “How are we gonna fix this, Satoru? How?”

Before he could answer, the door to the cabin suddenly burst open, and Akemi stood in the doorway with her eyes wide with shock and fury. The confrontation followed as soon as she caught you in a compromising position with Satoru, and the words she uttered next were ones you least expected from her. 

“You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married.” 

“You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me..” 

“Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

You felt like an outsider in your own heartbreak, the confrontation intensifying as you tried to process the bitter truth in silence. All you could do was stand there and cry. Even Satoru’s attempts to placate Akemi were futile as her anger only seemed to grow. The more her eyes danced back and forth between you and her lover, the more she wanted to destroy everything in her path.

Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. “Akemi, please, just listen—”

Akemi, however, was already turning on her heel and storming back into her cabin while eliciting loud, muffled sobs. Your chest tightened with sorrow and shame. Complete, utter shame of doing this to another woman. How could you even correct a situation like this? How could you pick yourself back up after you just trampled on another woman’s feelings because of your actions?

Satoru, like you, hesitated on his next move, his eyes meeting yours with a look of anguish. “I need to talk to her, Y/N. I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for your response, he already bolted after her, leaving you alone in a quiet, pathetic state. The door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through the cabin like thunder in a heavy storm.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face everyone, didn’t have the guts to even talk to Shoko and Suguru who now both have to deal with such scandals. You were too ashamed of yourself, as if your femininity had been stripped off its rights after you slept with the man you swore you would never get back with. 

“I didn’t mean it,” you could only silently whisper your laments, pacing around your cabin while swallowing the weakness that tried to escape. “I hate this.” 

The minutes dragged on, and each second stretched into an eternity as you waited for Satoru’s return. For now, you sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, wondering what excuse he was telling Akemi, and what actions he would do to try and calm her down. Did he kiss her, perhaps? Did he cup her face and tell her that you were nothing but a mistake? What was taking him so long? Or were they doing things to try and erase the same deeds you two did last night? 

The cacophony of voices and commotion from outside the cabin grew louder, and your curiosity led you to open your door, meeting the eyes of one of the hotel staff who sent you a look full of judgment. 

“Where’s…” you hesitated if she was the right person to ask, “Where’s Satoru? Would you know?” 

“Oh, ma’am. He already left the hotel half an hour ago… with Miss Akemi.” 

Her answer hit you hard like a truck on a highway. And your heart dropped as you realized who became The Fool in these deck of cards. Satoru had not only run off after Akemi, but had also left you behind without a word. 

The room felt colder now, the once-intimate sanctuary you shared with your ex-husband now a prison of your own grief. Even the familiar warmth of the bed seemed like a distant memory as you approached it, your body trembling as you thought of how you were treated like a dirty rag, thrown away after being used over and over again. 

With a soft, choked sob, you collapsed onto the bed, the duvet still a tangled mess from earlier. And your emotions, so tightly restrained, finally broke free. You pulled the blanket around you as if it could shield you from the crushing pain. The betrayal, the sense of being discarded for another—it all converged into a torrent of anguish. All you could do was cling to the duvet as if it were the only anchor in a stormy sea. 

——

Returning home didn’t make the situation any better. 

Although you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be waiting on Satoru to contact you, you still found yourself checking your phone multiple times a day. Each second that passed without hearing from him was another stab to your heart. But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t, not when Satoru clearly made his choice of choosing yet another woman over you. 

Of course, you knew what you did was wrong. In everyone’s eyes, sleeping with someone else’s man was unforgivable. There was no excuse, no way to justify your actions. Even if some people might side with you, saying you owed no one loyalty, it didn’t change how you felt about the whole situation. And that was because you remembered all too well the pain of being cheated on, and letting another woman endure the same heartbreak and betrayal was a weight on your conscience that you couldn’t ignore.

Sighing, you turned to the left side of the bed and saw Sachiro sleeping peacefully, clutching his favorite starfish plushie in his tiny arms. The thought of losing your son was unbearable, especially when he was your only source of calm amid the chaos that surrounded you. Caring for him was your solace, and his innocent presence served as a band-aid for your wounded heart. The most heart-wrenching part of this was knowing you couldn’t even repay him for the stability he brought you. Sachiro deserved a complete family to enrich his life, yet you—as his own biological mother—were unable to give him that. 

“Sleep tight, Sachi.” You lightly stroked his white hair before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The past few weeks had been a blur of emotions, work, and parenting—with each day blending into the next like a tornado of dull colors. You still hadn’t heard from Satoru, but the days of waiting and checking your phone for any notification from him did gradually stop. The only thing that didn’t stop replaying in your head like a broken record was the cabin incident, the very night that drew all these overthinking in your mind and in your heart. 

Returning to work did provide some distraction, but it didn’t take away the sting. It also didn’t help that your staff noticed the change in your demeanor, and how distracted you often were during your meetings and warehouse visits. Even Nobara was worried about how absentminded you had become, but you brushed off all their concerns with a forced smile. After all, staying at home would do you worse than being at work. 

Now, you were back in your office, and the soft knock on the door cut you off from your trance. It was Yuki peeking through the small opening on your door, her usual professional demeanor softened by a concerned expression. “Hey, Y/N. Do you have a minute?” she asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her with a quiet click. 

You nodded, trying to muster a smile. “Sure, Yuki. What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in on you,” she began, taking a seat opposite your desk, “If you need to extend your vacation, please, by all means, go ahead. It’s off-season, anyway. I’ll take care of everything here while you’re focusing on yourself.”

That wasn’t really a good idea. And you shouldn’t be slacking off work when this very fashion house you establish used to be your passion, not your job. Yet here you were, losing all the inspiration to even run a business. “I don’t know if I have the energy for anything else right now.”

“Well, if you’re too worried about leaving work,” Yuki continued, her tone shifting to a more business-like note, “the progress we’ve made with Hearte is looking really promising. The new collection is getting great feedback, and our upcoming showcase is shaping up well. We’re on track for a strong quarter.”

“All because of you, Yuki.” A spark of gratitude appeared on your face. “Thanks for the update. It’s good to know things are moving in the right direction.”

She then stood up and gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need anything, Y/N. But seriously, take some time for yourself. You deserve it.”

On that same evening, you came home to your father’s mansion, and the first thing that greeted you when you entered the foyer was Gen sitting by the living room. And needless to say, her expression was a mix of concern and frustration as if she had been waiting for you to return. You weren’t really in the mood to have some back-and-forths with her, but you also didn’t like how she dropped her phone on the table and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at you like she was a mother who could scold you like a child.

“I’m not even gonna say anything at this point, but did you really do it with him?” Gen’s voice was low, but the disappointment was palpable. You could feel it from a few meters away. 

“What are you talking about?” you bit back, your already-terrible mood swings shifting into an unhealthy direction. 

Gen responded by pointing at her phone, gesturing for you to take a look at whatever’s on it. Reluctantly, you grabbed the device, and as you were scrolling through the screen, you stumbled upon a blind item circulating on social media. The words were vague but pointed, hinting at a scandalous encounter between two ex-spouses, both of whom were well-known figures. Great. Your heart stopped as you realized that the article was very much about you and Gojou. 

The online comments were brutal, not like you weren’t used to anonymous harassment anyway, but these ones were full of speculating and judging without knowing the full story. Everyone also seemed to be siding with “Ms. A” instead of you as though the person behind the article was clearly trying to paint you as the villain. It was written for the purpose of destroying your reputation rather than any regular exposé, and whoever wrote it was definitely someone who disliked you. 

Your shoulders slumped as you scrolled through hate comment after hate comment, a seemingly endless vitriol for someone they didn’t even know, and avoided your sister’s gaze knowing full well that seeing her expression would only make you feel worse. 

“Is it true?” your sister asked like there was even an ounce of chance that it was simply a rumor. Unfortunately, it was anything but. 

Sliding her phone back on the coffee table, you drew in a deep breath. “I can’t undo it, Gen. It happened.” 

“So, you did sleep with him? Am I hearing this right?” Gen sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you have any idea what this could do to you? To Sachiro? People are ruthless, and now this blind item is all over the place and they’re targeting you like a punching bag!”

Your mouth felt heavy, as if it was weighed down by an invisible burden, making it difficult to form words or speak. And before you could think of a response, Ian became your temporary savior as he walked in with a calm but serious mien. “I’ve seen the post,” he said, holding up his phone. “It’s clearly defamatory, and we can take legal action. I’ll handle it.”

Even though Ian was a man of remarkable phlegm, you remained abashed, knowing that everyone’s feasting at the juicy rumor that you slept with your ex-husband. Yet, the only thing you could do was to put on a front. To save face. To act like someone you’re not. “Thank you, Ian. I’d appreciate that.”

Anticipating another lecture from Gen about Satoru, you began retreating to your room with your footsteps bouncing desperately on the grand staircase. This conversation was done. You just weren’t there to hear it anymore. However, as you climbed the stairs with a vacant mind, you could still hear your sister calling out to you.

“Y/N!” she called, her voice now tinged with concern. “I’m not going to give you a hard time. We can sort this issue out. Maturely.”

“I’m good.” Sorry, Gen. It was the anxious-avoidant side of you speaking. You didn’t want to discuss such a sensitive situation to anyone, even with your sister, because you weren’t ready to face all the negativity it would put you through. You were already dealing with enough, and going through yet another emotional turmoil might actually put you to your deathbed at this point. 

So, for now, isolating yourself from the world was the best choice. 

And as soon as you entered your room, you saw Sachiro’s nanny tucking him into bed. All your worries and self-destructive thoughts vanished in an instant the moment you looked at your son. It was like the heavens gave you your personal angel, a cute little cherub who brought nothing but light and happiness to your life. He was your sunshine, your shooting star, your bundle of joy. Nothing in this world could erase the pessimist in you than little Sachiro. 

“I got it from here.” You thanked the nanny and asked her to close the door before quickly joining your son in bed, wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug—more for your own comfort than his.

“Mama?” he asked, his voice unusually raspy, and his chest rising and falling heavily. “I mwiss you, mama!”

You pressed your lips onto his forehead. “I miss you too, my baby. How was daycare today?”

He seemed to struggle to speak too, but Sachiro still did his best to recount his day while he was trying to catch air in between his sentences. “Teacher ask Sachi to go home, mama. Sachi is tired.”

“Baby, are you okay? Are you sick?” Now, your motherly instincts kicked in immediately. You could tell something was wrong, so you reached for a thermometer from the bedside drawer to check his temperature, and listened to his breathing at the same time. “What happened to Sachi? Do you want Mommy to take you to the hospital?”

Sachiro shook his head and gave you a sleepy smile. “No, mama. Sachi is just sweepy.”

When the thermometer beeped, you were relieved to see that his temperature was normal. “Are you having trouble breathing, my sweetheart?” You looked into his droopy eyes and gently placed your hand on his chest. 

Once again, Sachiro shook his head. Maybe you were just overthinking. He often ran around the house or played in the bathtub before bed, which could explain why he seemed out of breath. It wasn’t the first time it happened. 

“Okay, Sachi. Go to sleep now. Close your eyes, baby.”

“Night night, mama.”

For now, you turned off the night lamp, and headed to the bathroom in silent and careful steps. It was quiet enough indeed, but in your head was an awful noise you couldn’t escape. And stepping into the shower only increased the warfare in your mind, as it immediately brought images of Satoru and Akemi back in the cabin, the harsh comments from the article, and the lack of contact from your ex-husband which all overwhelmed you at once. By now, he would have already seen that article. Nanami or Miwa might have already alerted him about it. But the fact that he said nothing, the fact that he let the public scrutinize you, destroy you with such vile, hurtful words behind their screens brought you a kind of pain that you wouldn’t wish upon anyone else. 

Because if it was Akemi in that position, he would have defended her in a heartbeat. 

So in your silence, under the cascading water of the shower, you let the tears flow—its warmth distinguishable compared to the cold droplets falling on you. If only you had successfully drowned yourself that night at the lake. If only Satoru didn’t pull you back in, none of this would have happened. 

That moment was deeply poignant to you, and you saw him in a new light you thought you would never see again because of the darkness of your past. Yet, with the events that followed your special moment, memories eventually turned into spite. Your sweet exchange twisted into something bitter. Looking back at that time when he kissed you at the lake now made you feel nauseous and hollow inside, with bile forming on your throat and threatening to be retched. 

The most gut-wrenching part about this was the fact that there wasn’t anyone left who could rescue you from this abyss of heartache anymore. 

——

There had been a sense of detachment in your emotions in the following days that passed, almost as though they belonged to a stranger inhabiting your body. Toji, the only person who comforted you at times like these, was no longer by your side to fulfill the warmth you once desperately sought, and now you were alone to face this cruel, mind-numbing battle all by yourself. It was you against the world. You against the entire populace inhabiting this living hell. And with that many enemies against one, how could you win? 

It was quite funny, actually, that your humor took a surprising turn when you thought of how Sera must have felt when it was revealed to the public that she was Satoru’s mistress. The irony didn’t even stop at your thoughts alone, it manifested itself outside Hearte’s headquarters, wearing a pink puffer jacket and a white prairie skirt. 

“Sera?” you blurted out her name in wonder, nonplussed as you got out of the car to approach her.

“Hey, Y/N.” She offered a casual smile while carrying an air of sophistication around her. That wasn’t the only thing that changed about Sera. Her hair was also shorter than the last you saw her, her face now sporting a more natural makeup, and her outfit a more modest yet classy choice. It was no longer the Sera who tried hard to fit in amongst the upper echelon of society, but a Sera who seemed to be satisfied at her current standing in life. 

What an awkward encounter. Was her presence your hypocritical reminder for sleeping with Satoru behind Akemi’s back? 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

And she answered with, “I read about what happened. You know, the thing on the internet.” She took a moment to pause, probably trying to choose the right words to say to her previous adversary. Because in a way, you two weren’t exactly friends. And you were no longer rivals either. Satoru was the only common denominator here, and Sera proved her exact sentiments about him by saying, “I just wanted to let you know that I understand your side. It’s a tough situation.”

You looked at her, searching for any hint of insincerity, but found none. “You were once on my spot,” you pointed out and gauged whether or not she would take the bait. For all you know, she could be putting on an act. “I’m assuming you’re here to rub it in my face how much of a hypocrite I am.” 

“No, that’s not it.” Sera was vehemently denying any malice on her intentions, and was instead trying to show you the sympathy of a woman who was once caught in the same predicament. “Look, I know it’s weird that I’m here out of all people. But the truth is, I just had to let you know that someone’s on your side. I’ve met the girl, okay? That… whoever she is. I don’t remember her name, and I hate having to pit two women against each other, but I’m telling you it’s about time you cut Satoru off your life. Completely. She doesn’t look like someone who’d easily let go. You’re just gonna suffer, Y/N.” 

Perhaps three years was too far back in your life and that tables could turn in a direction that you didn’t expect, as you could recall fragments of memories from when your only dilemma was dealing with Satoru and Sera in your marriage. She used to be besotted with your ex-husband back then. But now, it wasn’t until you heard the way she spoke about him that you realized she must be harboring a grudge deeper than you had imagined. After all, he did ruin her life in ways you couldn’t imagine. And her advice, though unsolicited, made sense. Because you could understand where she was going with it. You could see the true intentions clearly conveyed by her face.

The only problem here was that you didn’t have it in your heart to agree with her. You were too much of an empathic person to be taking sides, even if the supposed villain in this painting was the ex-husband who, time and time again, hurt you. Your heart stubbornly cared for Satoru deep down, and your wifely instinct of defending him no matter how poorly he acted had always been there. No one could hate Satoru more than you did, that was true, but you also weren’t very accepting of hearing others describe him as this ruthless, cheating bastard. 

That was the reason why talking to Gen had eventually exhausted you. Because no one knew the real Satoru Gojou behind his facade of an irresponsible and reckless husband. 

“Now that you’re here…” The idea to redirect the conversation to another topic struck you, unwilling to engage in a conversation that pushed Satoru in a bad light. “Would you be interested in being a model for our upcoming campaign? We’re launching a new collection, and I think you’d be perfect.”

Sera’s eyes were an amalgam of confusion and surprise. “Uh, I mean… I’d love to, but why so sudden?” 

“You have the face for it.” You shrugged, but still sent a smile her way. “Are you working right now? If not, this could open doors for you to be discovered by modeling agencies. I’m closely tied with them since I work in the fashion industry, so I can do a few calls if you want.” 

“Hold on, I’m—” Sera touched her head, laughing as if she were dreaming this conversation. “Y/N, you’re doing too much here. I mean, I’d obviously love that, but wouldn’t it be awkward? People know me as your ex-husband’s mistress, and if they recognize me in Hearte ads, I’m sure as hell those fuck ass netizens won’t stop talking about it.”

She had a point, a very good point, but then again, your suggestion was only brought up because you had to change the topic. “Well, it’s just an offer to consider in the future.” 

“And I appreciate you always extending a hand to help me even if I did you wrong in the past,” she said, feelings of shame lacing her voice. “I haven’t forgotten about what you did for my brother, that’s why I’m here. I’m not your enemy anymore, Y/N.”

Just then, the roaring engine of a classic red Ferrari pulled up to the curb, interrupting the unexpected conversation you were having with your ex-husband’s former mistress. The window rolled down to reveal a pink-haired man whom you recognized as Ryomen Sukuna, an up and coming tech mogul, that Toji had mentioned about many times before. His eyes were only on one woman alone, and it wasn’t you. “Ready to go, babe?”

Honestly, good for Sera. No wonder her aura had become different. They seemed to be in a stable committed relationship, something that you could only ever dream about. If karma was truly real, this was the perfect example for it. 

In the back seat, you spotted a younger boy who looked exactly like Sukuna and, surprisingly, Megumi, the son of your ex-fiancé. Really? How many more people were you going to ‘coincidentally’ run into today? 

“Hello, miss!” the other boy called out cheerfully, while Megumi offered a polite nod. You replied with a wave, feeling a small sense of normalcy in their innocent presence.

“I gotta get going, Y/N,” excused Sera, gesturing a civil goodbye. 

But as she moved to get into the car, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A single glance at the screen made your heart drop. It was a call from the hospital.

“Hello?” you answered almost immediately, pressing the phone on your ears with a tight push.

“Ms. Y/N, this is the hospital. Your son, Sachiro Gojou, is in the ICU. We need you to come as soon as possible.”

Your stomach contracted into a tight ball as you stood rigid with terror. Then and there, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Wh-What do you mean he’s in the hospital?!” you managed to shout, swept by horripilation from the sudden news. “What happened to my son?! What’s—!” 

Sera’s concerned gaze met yours as you desperately yelled into the phone, hyperventilating. Your trembling hand was threatening to drop the phone. “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“My son… I… he…,” you stammered, your voice shaky with fear and urgency. Your muscles locked in a momentary paralysis, eyes wide with astonishment, and surprise rendering you immobile. The thought of Sachiro in a critical state was about to make you faint, with the last bits of images you saw that afternoon were of Sera and her boyfriend rushing to catch you from completely falling to the ground. 

——

Megumi didn’t know how to deliver the bad news. 

He came home after Yuuji’s brother rushed you to the hospital, shocked by everything that happened in a span of a single day. His mind was aching from all the thinking he was doing; praying that little Sachiro will be fine, hoping that you would stay strong throughout, and lastly, wondering how he would break it to his dad that something terrible had happened. 

His father wasn’t exactly the greatest man to tread this Earth, especially not after the drunken words he had ‘mistakenly’ uttered to you that night in Miami that resulted in your separation. Yes, Megumi knew every word and detail. His father told him everything just as a sober man would. Did you really think that the Toji Zen’in you knew would sputter that utter nonsense to you? That you had an empty soul. That he couldn’t be with someone like you. That you would forever be a placeholder to Megumi’s mother. Bullshit. None of those were true. His father told him that the reason he had to say those words, as piercing and trenchant as they may be, was because it was the only way he could free you from being caged in a relationship your heart didn’t genuinely want. 

It was Toji’s last resort to hurt you with his words, hoping that you would wake up from your false fantasy and finally have a reason to leave a relationship with a man that wasn’t Satoru Gojou. If Megumi’s father wasn’t at the top of the list of Forbes’ richest men in Japan, he would have felt a great deal of inferiority complex over a younger man like Gojou. Not because of his looks and his riches, but because he had you. No matter what Satoru did, no matter how many times he hurt you, he was and would always be that man you wanted to be with. 

Sighing, Megumi’s first task upon coming home was to check on his father’s room, only to find the dark room void of its owner. When he made his way down the grand staircase, he met an ill-spirited Naoya who was ranting to Mai about Sera flaunting Sukuna in front of his face. Megumi’s sigh was then followed by another. The drama in this house was relentless. He felt like he was exhaling endlessly, like a malfunctioning appliance. 

“Where’s dad?” asked Megumi, directing her question to a more rational Maki. 

The tall, green-haired girl gave him a knowing shrug. “You already know,” she said, “Drowning himself in alcohol down at the bar.” 

As always. 

Megumi jogged around the estate to eventually find his father at one of the wet bars near his home office. He was there, seated on a stool, his head drooping low with a glass of premium scotch in hand. How many glasses he’d had, Megumi could only hope the numbers weren't that high. But upon approaching his father, his presence was barely acknowledged as he sat on the stool next to him, suggesting that the grown man might be more inebriated than his son had expected.

“Dad,” spoke the Zen’in heir, “Dad, you good?” 

Toji lifted his head up, three sheets to the wind, as a smile crept up on his scarred lips. “Son.” 

“Let me take that.” Megumi grabbed a hold of the glass of scotch, sliding the strong liquor away from his father. “There’s something I ought to tell you.” 

Toji stayed nonchalant, sitting upright and tapping his fingers on the counter. “What’s it about this time?” he asked. “I’ve told you, I can’t stop the elders from arranging your marriage unless you’re honest with me about someone you like. I know you have someone in mind, but you’re not saying who. Are you just shy?”

Megumi gave his father a look of exasperation. He’s rambling, he thought, frustrated with his father’s inebriated chattering. “It’s not about that. It’s about Y/N-san.”

The mention of your name was the only thing that made Toji's demeanor shift to one of genuine concern. “What happened?”

“Sachi’s in a critical condition,” the younger Zen’in went straight to the point, “Y/N-san went manic over it and fainted before we could get her to the hospital.”

Toji was quick to grab his coat and car keys, as if all the alcohol in his system had immediately evaporated. But before he could leave, Megumi caught his father’s arm and pulled him back. 

“What?” said Toji, concern and urgency blanketing his gaze. “I need to be with her.” 

“Do you really need to?” Megumi countered. “Dad, I know it’s not right for me to stop you in this crucial situation, but are you gonna do this every time she’s in trouble? Do you plan to do this forever? Do you plan to keep drowning yourself in alcohol thinking about her? We care for her like family, that’s true, but you and her aren’t a thing anymore. Your responsibilities in taking care of her should stop, too. You, yourself, said it’d be best if she stopped being reliant on you. Now, do yourself a favor and stop trying to be this pathetic superhero.” 

The concern etching on Tojis’s face softened into a sense of realization, a sense of candidness that only someone as straightforward as his own son could evoke. Megumi had to, not because he didn’t care for you anymore, but because he had to ensure he wouldn’t lose his father over a relationship that had already ended. Toji was the only real family Megumi had left. 

“Stay, dad,” he pleaded, “Please.”

Toji took a deep breath and released it in the same second. “Okay,” he softly said, ruffling his son’s hair. “I won’t leave.” 

——

Why is it that you keep attracting things, places, and people that you disliked the most? 

You hated hospitals, and you had spoken about it enough to make it clear how much you dreaded going to a place where your worst memories had taken root. Yet, the sterile environment seemed to beckon you, dragging you back with a new nightmare each time. It was beyond your worst fears that you would find yourself racing through the halls mere minutes after regaining consciousness, desperately trying to reach where your son was.

Please be okay. Please be okay. 

Frantically, you scanned the corridors, searching for the ICU and hoping that what you had just heard was nothing more than a cruel illusion, that this was all just a nightmare. You weren’t a deeply devout person, but you did send prayers to every saint you could think of, hoping that Sachiro’s current state wasn’t in the median between life and death. 

Because if you lost your son, then there was no point in living anymore. This life wouldn’t be worth enduring. 

“Y/N!”

You weren’t the first one to arrive outside the pediatric ICU, with Gen and your father already being there moments before you came. You were struggling to breathe by the time you reached them, feeling your heart race with a thunderous beat. “Gen… Dad, what h-happened to him?” You couldn’t stop the weakness in your voice. “Tell me he’s fine, please. Please. My baby. If anything h-happens to him, I’m g-gonna die, Gen! I c-can’t h-have that!”

Gen quickly enveloped you in a tight embrace, trying to offer any form of comfort she could. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Dad and I are just as shocked.” She held you closer, her voice trembling as she, too, was just as anxious as you. “Sachi refused to eat and complained about having a hard time breathing. He was so pale and his lips were blue. We knew we had to rush him to the hospital immediately.”

“Oh my God.” Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the uncontrollable cries that were escaping. The news of Sachiro developing cyanosis shattered your heart, and the crushing reality that you weren’t there to take care of him tore you apart. “My baby, no. No, no. H-He—”

“Y/N!” 

Out of breath and also visibly shaken was the father of your son, Satoru, who came running to your side the moment his eyes landed on you. Behind him was his mother, clutching a rosary in her hand as both of them were seemingly shell-shocked in the same magnitude as you and your family were. Everyone cared for Sachiro’s well-being, everyone prayed for his safety, and the thought of losing an angel like your son was a soul-crushing thought that sent you slipping into a chasm of suffering.  

“Wh-What happened to Sachi?” Satoru asked in desperation, his question raised to everyone in the vicinity—you, your family, the nurses. But no one could give him a decent answer. “Please, tell me my son’s alright. Tell me.” 

You watched him walk in circles, raking his fingers through his hair as if he was seeking anything to hold onto. And you, feeling that magnet that pulled you closer to him, broke away from Gen’s embrace to look at your son’s father. “Satoru…” 

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he met your gaze, “Our son.” He stopped, ready to wrap you in a hug—a moment of solace you both desperately needed in this critical time. But just as he pulled you close in a fragile attempt to find comfort together, the door to the ICU swung open, abruptly ending the brief respite.

All of you immediately rushed over to the doctor, the sterile white walls and the distant hum of hospital machinery did nothing to calm the turmoil inside you. 

“Doctor, how’s he?” 

“How’s my grandson, doc?”

“Doc, my son, is he okay?” 

“Is he stable, doc?” 

“Doctor, how’s my son, please?” you asked, your body growing tense to the point of shaking.

The doctor took a deep breath, his expression serious amidst the fusillade of questions thrown at him. “We’re currently running a series of tests on the patient. We suspect Sachiro may have congenital heart disease, specifically a ventricular septal defect with associated pulmonary hypertension.”

No, it can’t be. It’s not possible! The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You struggled to process the information, your vision blurring with tears and your heart drumming a rapid staccato inside. You didn’t need to look at everyone to know that they all, for a moment, looked at you. “Heart disease? But… how? I didn’t think—”

“Can you explain more, doc? Please.” Gojou was desperate, his bright blue eyes now dull and severely clouded with a brewing storm. It was as if he was keeping himself from crying.

The doctor continued gently, “VSD is a condition where there’s a hole in the heart’s ventricular septum. It can lead to pulmonary hypertension, which means the blood pressure in the lungs is elevated. It’s a serious condition, but we’re doing everything we can to assess the extent and provide the best treatment.”

“N-No, oh God. My baby.” You felt your knees go weak, and you sank down against the wall, with more tears cascading down your cheeks like waterfall. The weight of the diagnosis was crushing, but the hardest part was realizing that this was something you had unknowingly passed on to Sachiro. The heart disease was inherited from you and had now manifested in your beloved son.

It’s my fault. It’s my fault! 

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have more information. Please, try to stay calm, Y/N. It’s not best for your heart to panic right now. Sachiro is in good hands.”

You were unable to speak through the sobs that wracked your body. The hospital corridor felt endless, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and helplessness that consumed you. You could feel all eyes on you, judging, harboring hatred, carrying deep-rooted resentment. You were torn apart by the knowledge that the very thing you had feared most was now a reality for your son.

“It’s… It’s my fault,” you sobbed, covering your face with your quivering hands, “This is all my fault. I gave it to Sachiro, I… I’m a terrible mother!” 

Gen knelt beside you, her hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle touch. “Y/N, stop it. This is not your fault. You didn’t choose this for Sachiro.”

Your father, who had been pacing anxiously nearby, joined in. “Your sister’s right. You’re blaming yourself for something beyond your control. We’re all here for you. We’ll figure this out.”

But amidst your familial exchange, Satoru stood nearby, frozen and listless. His silence only added to the overwhelming distress. Was he also blaming you for what Sachiro was going through right now? Was he also angry at you for putting his son into this critical situation? 

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the commotion—voice that was equally harsh and spiteful. It was Satoru’s mother, boring her fiery eyes into your skull as she opened her mouth. “That’s right! You’re self-aware, aren’t you?” she spat and stood rigidly, arms crossed defensively over her chest. “This is all your fault. You’re such an irresponsible mother! You can’t even take care of my grandson properly, and now you’ve passed your disease onto him!”

You looked up in shock, seeing Satoru’s mother standing there with a disdainful expression. The sting of her words felt like a knife twisting in your heart, because they were true. They were painful, yes, but they were true. And all you could do was lower yourself until you were sitting on your haunches, trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

“Excuse me?!” Gen stood up, her eyes blazing with anger that came from the deepest pits of hell. “You’re unbelievable, Auntie. How dare you speak to my sister like that! You have no right to blame her for this. I hope to God it was you in the ICU right now instead of Sachiro!”

“You…!” 

Satoru’s mother raised a hand to slap Gen, but your father stepped forward, his face a mix of disbelief and indignation. “This is despicable. How can you stand here and say such things to someone who’s already suffering? Weren’t you friends with my wife once?”

Satoru, who had been standing still, suddenly moved with a menacing calm. His face was hard as stone, and his eyes narrowed in anger. What was scarier was him approaching his mother with a threatening stance. “Are you really this pathetic, mother?” Satoru questioned with a cold, cutting tone. “Do you get off on making Y/N suffer? Do you think you’ve gotten away with slapping her behind my back? You don’t get to blame Y/N for anything. Any fucking thing!”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, but she tried to defend herself at the ruthless stance her son was carrying. All of you were stunned at the realization of how Satoru resembled his cruel father at that moment. “B-But Satoru, my son—”

“Shut up!” Satoru cut her off, his voice harsh and unforgiving, before he threw his cold knuckles against the hard surface of the concrete wall. “I don’t want to see your face ever again! Don’t consider yourself my mother any longer, you witch. You’ve lost that privilege.”

This took a wild turn, and hearing the brutality of Satoru’s words was like a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere. His mother’s face turned pale, her mouth opening and closing in shock as she struggled to respond.

“Get out of here,” Satoru commanded, his voice uncaring towards her. “Leave, and don’t ever come back. You’re nobody to me now.”

With that, Satoru’s mother turned and fled, stumbling down the corridor as if she was the victim in this situation. However, the tension in the air began to dissipate as soon as she left, leaving you, Satoru, Gen, and your father in a heavy silence. Only your sniffles could be heard. 

Even Gen, who was often hostile around your ex-husband, had remained quiet and composed after she watched him take such drastic measures to keep his mother away.

Everyone was silent. Pure, unbothered silence until Satoru’s phone began to buzz loudly, cutting through the stillness of the hallway. For a moment, he closed his eyes, then he fished his phone out of his pocket where you caught a glimpse of the caller ID. 

Akemi. 

——

The ICU only allowed short visits and one person at a time, so there was no need for everyone to stay the night. You were the parent, you were the one responsible for your son’s situation, so you insisted it was best for your dad and Gen to go home and get some rest. You didn’t mind watching over your son for the whole night, because coming home without him was the last thing you would do right now.

My precious angel.

Sachiro lay in the hospital bed, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The doctors had managed to stabilize him for now, and the sight of his heart monitor showing a stable rhythm was a small comfort amidst the chaos.

Still, you sat by his bedside, mindful of your timed visit as your hands gently held his tiny ones, feeling the warmth of his small fingers. You glanced down at the medical report on your other hand, trying to make sense of the complex terms and figures.

The words blurred together as your tears fell silently onto the paper. “I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t deserve this. He’s just a baby. “Mommy’s very sorry.”

You tried to stay strong, putting on a brave face for your son, but inside, you were falling apart. It was impossible not to blame yourself over this, wishing you could do more than just be present around him. This was the comeuppance of your own actions after you focused on your own emotions for the past few weeks to the point of neglecting your son’s wellbeing. If you had been more present in his life, if you had been more observant, you would have easily noticed the signs. Now, you allowed Satoru to find a flaw in your duty as a mother, and he could cite this very event as evidence to get full custody of him. That is, if he were to ever consider taking your son away from you. 

But in the first place, he should be the last person to do that, because where exactly was he now? 

Your thoughts kept drifting back to the earlier scene, where he excused to answer Akemi’s call, and later that night told you he had to leave and “check something” urgently. He promised he’d be back before midnight, but where was he? 

Resentment began to fester within you.

You had been very perceptive of Akemi’s feelings, apologetic in the way you supposedly betrayed her, but the fact that she was still scrambling for Satoru’s attention in the midst of your son’s hospitalization was something you could never forgive her for. 

And as for Sachiro’s father, how could he prioritize another woman when his own son was in such a critical state? The confusion of his actions was overwhelming. It felt like a cruel deja vu that, at a time when you needed him the most, he was choosing to be elsewhere. You could accept it if it was a choice between you and another woman, but between his son and her? His behavior was unacceptable, disgusting even, and it only served to deepen your grudge against him.

You clenched your fists, trying to push away the surge of anger that threatened to consume you after seeing that the disparity in his actions felt like both a betrayal and a slap to the face. Your poor son. You stared at Sachiro’s peaceful face and stroked his cheek. How could Satoru be so indifferent to his own flesh and blood?

The room was silent except for the soft beeping of the heart monitor and your quiet sobs. The situation was almost too much to bear, and your resentment towards Gojou grew heavier by the second. Each minute felt like a lifetime, and the emptiness left by his absence was a constant reminder that yet again he chose another woman over his own family.

It’s okay. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. I won’t leave you, Sachi. For Sachiro’s sake, you needed to find the strength to carry on, to be the mother he needed in this moment of crisis and never again failing to be there for your only child. 

At exactly 10:30 pm, the nurse came in and told you visiting hours were over. You complied. 

At 11:00 pm, Ian paid you a quick visit and talked to the nurses, perhaps giving them reminders to look after you. 

At 12:00 am, you were alone again. Seated at one of the benches outside the ICU—sleepless, starving, and nauseous. 

At 2:00 am, you remained in your seat despite the sterile smell of antiseptic mingling with your own discomfort. The flickering fluorescent lights above did little to help you get some proper sleep. The cold air-conditioning alao made you shiver slightly, hugging your own body to try and give yourself some warmth. 

At 4:00 am, you awakened from the noise of the movements beside you. Realizing you had fallen asleep, you looked up and saw Satoru taking a seat to your left. His coat was draped over his arm, and he offered it to you.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, but you could see the bags under his eyes suggesting the sleepless nights he’d had for the past few days. “You can use my coat.”

You took the coat, but as you caught a whiff of it, a familiar scent of Akemi’s perfume lingered. Rose Prick by Tom Ford. It was a scent you’d come to recognize after your years of being her best friend, and it made your stomach turn slightly. Without any hesitation, you handed the coat back to him. “No, thank you. I’m fine,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. Looking into his eyes was the last thing you would do. 

And you knew Satoru was sighing, but didn’t press the issue. “The nurse mentioned you haven’t eaten today.” He pulled out a small bag of assorted fruits, placing it gently on the seat between you. You eyed the offerings, feeling a pang of hunger but also a strange aversion. “I bought some fruit. Is there anything you like?”

You took a deep breath and broke the silence with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re really good at this, huh?”

“At what?” was his immediate question, puzzled.

“Hitting two birds with one stone.”

“Y/N…”

“Stop trying to take care of me,” you interrupted, your tone sharper than intended. “ I don’t need it.”

“But—”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You can’t even be here for Sachi. You can’t even choose your son. He’s in a life and death situation and we’re still only receiving scraps of your attention.” It was the deep-seated grudge spilling out of you. “You’re so good at abandoning people, huh? Even though that’s what you hate the most. You’re so good at disappearing without even a text or call to check on me and our son. After that night at the cabin, you just…” you paused, realizing that you were opening too much of your heart to a man who didn’t deserve it. “Forget it. Just go home to Akemi. Live a happy life, build a family with her. Forget us. I don’t care. I’ll take care of Sachiro myself. I’ve done it for three years!”

“Y/N, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…” Satoru fumbled for words, his somber blue eyes bearing the history of your shared heartbreak. It was as though the painful memories of your past were flooding his thoughts, seeking justification as to why he couldn’t pick you again this time. “I had to be there for her. She’s…”

You turned away before he could see your expression, because your heart was splintering at the thought of Satoru Gojou shattering it once more. As he always did. There seemed to be no end to this relentless heartbreak, as if any hope of a happy ever after with the man you loved would only return a pain that was a hundred times worse. Perhaps, this was destiny’s way of telling you that you and him weren’t meant to be. That any wishful thinking of being with Satoru again was only something that you could expect in another universe.

So, in your defense, you had to pull on a facade. A mask that you had to wear in the face of being the target of never-ending despair. “Satoru, I don’t want to talk about it,” you said firmly, concealing the raw ache in your voice with a smile. “And I don’t expect you to choose me every time. It’s okay. It’s happened before.”

“Can’t you see I’m hurting, too?” he asked, his voice breaking. Though you couldn’t see his face, the tremor in his voice revealed his struggle to hold back tears. 

You couldn’t understand why he would be hurting with his decision. When faced with two crossroads, he always seemed to pick the path that led away from you. So instead of trying to comprehend his pain, you decided it was time to honor your own. For your sake. For Sachiro’s. 

“Let’s just forget about that night,” you declared, wiping your eyes as you got up from your seat and prepared to walk away. “From this day forward, let’s pretend it never happened.”

——

Akemi’s apartment was dark when Satoru stepped inside. 

And to be honest, the darkness was a relief. At least, she wouldn’t be able to see the lassitude etched on his face, not just from juggling his time between his son and her, but from the constant ache of hurting the person he loved.

Miscommunication is a couple’s greatest enemy, and the persistent disconnect between you two, coupled with the reluctance to clear things up, had worn Satoru down. He wanted to end this—the feeling of helplessness and the torment of seeing the woman he cared for caught in a labyrinth of despair.

The hospital visits to Sachiro alone had been a whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities, and this brief visit to Akemi felt like an unwelcome detour, but one he couldn’t avoid. Satoru knew his heart wanted to stay in the hospital with you, to wait for any updates on his son, to hold your hand and care for you, yet here he was, dragging his feet across the carpeted floors to approach Akemi. 

“Hey.” She was sitting on the couch, looking frail but alert as if she had been desperately waiting on his arrival. She had recently started treatment for her stage 3 endometrial cancer, and Satoru could see the toll it was taking on her, physically and emotionally. He would be cruel to leave her hanging like this, to neglect her at her worst when she had been there by his side at his. Satoru had an unspoken accountability on her, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to just abandon her after she poured all her heart and soul into helping Gojou get back onto his own feet.  

“Hey, ‘Kemi,” he said, his tone soft but distant. “Did you take your meds today?”

Akemi looked up at him, her eyes tired and heavy. “I did. I took them just like the doctor said. How’s Sachiro?”

Gojou’s expression tightened. “He’s holding steady at the moment.”

A heavy silence settled between them before Akemi broke the tension. “I’m glad he’s stable,” she said, quietly. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once, his mind already drifting back to the hospital. “Yeah. Listen, I need to head back soon. Nanami and Miwa will be alternating in looking after you from now on. They’ll make sure you’re okay while I’m dealing with Sachiro. I have to focus on my son.”

Akemi’s frail hand reached out to gently grip his arm, the other held her lower abdomen in pain. “Satoru, please don’t go just yet. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Now’s not the time to feel guilty. It was either her or Sachiro. Her or his son. Gojou decided to pull his arm away gently, his gaze distant. “Sachiro needs me, Akemi. You know that.”

Akemi’s face fell, but she knew it would be ridiculous to argue over that. “No, I understand. I get that. I want you to focus on Sachi, too. I just wish—” Before she could finish, her voice faltered, and she looked up at him with a hesitant gaze. “Satoru, do you regret that I took you back even if you cheated on me?”

The question caught him off guard, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrowed as he processed her words. He had been so focused on his responsibilities and the immediate crisis that he hadn’t given much thought to their ‘relationship’. All he knew was when he showed up at her doorstep back at the cabin, he was only going to try and end things with her. He was only going to clarify the longstanding feelings you and him poured out to each other that night, which was why he ended up sleeping with his ex-wife. But because Akemi suffered at the time, because her pelvic pain worsened to the point of an emergency, he had to hold back and just take care of her in the weeks that passed. He was caged in this situation like a prisoner who was found guilty for the crimes he had committed.

Just be honest, Satoru. Disregard everything else and just be honest. Satoru believed it was about time he stood his ground no matter the consequences. “You can’t take me back if we’re not together, ‘Kemi,” he breathed out those words, reticent on hurting her with the truth. If she would lash out on him, throw a vase on his head, slam a book on his face—he wouldn’t mind. He was ready to accept all the violence he deserved from being an asshole. “You knew from the start that this, us, was only temporary. It was never supposed to be serious.” 

Her expressions turned doleful. “Then, in that case, did you at least…” Tears welled up in her eyes as she she paused, “Did you at least love me?”

“I just… I never saw it that way, Akemi.” Satoru’s honesty would destroy her, but he didn’t want to keep on sending out false hopes. He had to be firm, and while he was grateful for everything she did for him, that doesn’t mean he owed her his life and loyalty. In the first place, he warned her that he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship. And God, he was far from ready to even settle down, yet Akemi constantly hinted at wanting to tie the knot with him. Again and again did she mention the thought of a wedding and a child and her own family. 

Satoru wanted all those things too, but with another person in mind. He was only set on having those things with one woman.

Akemi’s face paled upon hearing his answer and the fact that he didn’t even bother to explain himself. “I see. I guess I needed to hear that.”

Gojou looked at her with a mix of regret and sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you like this, I really do.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It definitely wasn’t fine, but Satoru had to take her word for it as he got out from the couch and gave her a gentle pat on the head. “I have to go. Nanami will be here soon. Please make sure to follow the treatment plan and take care of yourself.”

Akemi nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “Alright. I’ll see him when he gets here.”

As Gojou turned to leave, he felt a pang of guilt twisting deep in his gut but pushed it aside. He was a father first before anything else. Sachiro would always be his first and foremost priority amongst everything else. 

——

After leaving Akemi’s place, Satoru was driving his car into the evening air beyond the speed limit. And his mind was racing together with him as he thought of you, your son, and the myriad of emotions he was struggling to manage. He couldn’t wait to be home, not literally at his own place, but anywhere with you and his son was his definition of home. 

It would be diabolical for him to run into your arms and yell, ‘I’m free! We can be together again!’ No, that would be cruel and disgusting. He respected Akemi just as he respected you. It was himself that he couldn’t respect, because he was the one responsible for the mess that he created. And adding Sachiro’s critical condition on top of the already festering wounds in your relationship? It truly was the manifestation of karma in his actions. 

His footsteps bounced through the hospital corridors the moment he arrived, each impatient step was ready to see your face and tell you he would never leave you and Sachiro now. But as he neared the pediatric ICU, his eyes darted around, the sight of his ex-wife was nowhere to be found. And instinctively, his heart pounded in his chest, and a drum of panic seemed to warn him of a storm that was about to come. Something was off, and it scared him. 

“Nurse,” he called out, his voice edged with urgency as he approached their station. “Where’s my wife? The boy’s mother?”

The nurse looked up, recognizing the infamous CEO’s face. “Uh, Mr. Gojou, she was heading to the rooftop, I think.”

“What?!” he unintentionally yelled at her face, “Why didn’t you guys keep an eye on her?” 

“Sir, calm down. She’s probably going to get some fresh air.”

A cold chill ran down his spine. You were definitely not there for that. 

Without another word, he sprinted towards the stairs, taking them two at a time instead of waiting at an elevator together with a group of people. He had to get to you as soon and as fast as he could without another second to waste. Although the climb felt endless, his mind racing with fear and dread was the push he needed to finally reach you. 

And upon bursting through the door to the rooftop, he was met with the soft whisper of the evening wind and the heart-stopping sight of you standing perilously close to the edge.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice breaking with desperation. “Don’t do this. Please, step back.”

You stood motionless, eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of sorrow. “The world hates me, Satoru,” you whispered, the mellow tone of your voice carried away by the wind. “I’m a burden to everyone, even my own child. I-I just… I want to end it all.”

“No!” Satoru’s heart shattered at your words while he moved closer, his hands outstretched and careful not to startle or provoke you. He was dying to have you in his arms and keep you safe. “Y/N, please. Come back. What about Sachi? What about me? We need you. Sachiro needs you. I need you.”

What exactly made you go here? How did thoughts of ending yourself suddenly come into fruition? Was there something you discovered that brought you to this ultimatum? Gojou was desperate, utterly desperate, to hear what was running through your mind so that he could at least ease the burden that you were carrying all by yourself. He was once in the position where he wanted to commit too, and he knew the temptation that came with permanently escaping the cruelty of the world in just a single action. 

“Y/N, please. Please, I’m begging. Come to me,” he rattled on in a suffocating whisper, the pleading in his voice was heavy, “Please. I love you. Only you.”  

It was when you turned around that Gojou’s world collapsed, and the words you said after had shattered his entire universe. 

They were still. 

You. 

And the wind. 

“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice cracking as you looked at the faint tears that fell from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.” 

[kryannoy]

MOTIVATION FOR STUDY??

genre: fluff, sfw

characters: suo, sakura

summary: you need to study as exams are in just a week but... you're tired. instead, he suggests to fulfill any reward you ask for for studying. you ask for him

SUO HAYATO

"How about this; what do you want as a reward for studying at least an hour?" He asks.

"An hour???"

"Trust me, it will be worth it. Think carefully of your reward then."

"Hmm . . ." You ponder what reward you want for the hard work you'll put later. A drink? Well, you can always get that. Candy? Doesn't seem worth it. Traveling? Seems too far-fetched and doesn't seem balanced for a 1-hour study.

Maybe something you really want right now is . . .

"You."

Suo's eyebrows lifted in surprise, his eye changed. He seems taken aback by your unexpected answer.

"Me? Specifically, what do you want from me?" His head is tilted to the side and his smiling face is back on his facade again.

"I want hugs and kisses . . . and cuddles! From you. I want to snuggle up with you." You're already imagining your reward but you haven't even sat down at your desk not even open up a book!

Suo gives out a light chuckle. It would be a lie if he said he didn't melt from your request and felt suffocating, but in a good way, his heart became. He's just good at keeping a normal composure all throughout the day.

"You really are charming in your own way," he says. "Okay! But only if you study for at least one hour. Then you get what you want for the rest of the day."

Your face immediately lights up when you hear "the rest of the day". You thought that he might be a little more mean, something like saying cuddles and kisses are for your 5 minute breaks, or you have to recall to him what you learnt. But maybe you're just wrong for today? Or maybe he's feeling generous? Or maybe he's giving you a chance? Or maybe it was really just a wrong intuition?

Whatever it is, it made you feel motivated now to study. If you start now, you get more time with him. And so you do.

Suo checks in on you from time to time to make sure you're comfortable but not comfortable enough to accidentally fall asleep. He'll send you tea or snacks but never disturbed you. But, he was actually a little mean. You thought you were going to get a kiss or at least a head pat when he came to your room when sending those food to you, but he didn't. He didn't even touch you!

He really wants you to savour it so your reward will be worth while, that's all.

After an hour, as promised, he came back to your room and told you you can claim your reward now.

"Wait, let me finish this chapter real quick."

He smiles at this. That's why he tells you to study for one hour because he knows you'll start to be so focused on it that you don't even realize your surroundings. And seems like you almost forgot that feeling of wanting to be enveloped by a larger body.

However, he was a little sad to hear that you want to study more. He was actually looking forward to giving you cuddles too.

And finally, after another 30 minutes, you're finished. You closed up everything—your book, your notes, your laptop—got up from your chair, do a little stretch before turning to him and he's already standing near your bed, waiting for you. Just the sight of him makes those feelings earlier before starting to study rush back into you, especially when he reaches out a hand for you and that damn, sweet smile playing on his lips.

You pretty much dive right into his arms and Suo gave you the best hugs, kisses, cuddles and snuggles because you deserved it and he is proud of you.

SAKURA HARUKA

"But I don't wanna study!!" You whine while sprawled on the floor, kind of throwing a tantrum.

"Then don't study if you don't want to!" He retorts, his voice shows annoyance but he's not even annoyed the slightest.

"But I have to . . ."

"Fine, then what do you want after you study? I'll try and get it for you," he suggests while rubbing the back of his neck, his ears are turning red. Obviously, he mumbles the last part but you still hear it.

It surprises you to hear that, especially coming from him. It gets you excited to start studying. You hummed while making a decision for your prize later.

You don't exactly want anything from him but you do know one thing, or two, that you want but you know he might be hesitant about this.

"You."

Oh boy. You know he was going to get flustered but you didn't expect him to yell out a "HAAAA????!" that makes the roof shake.

"Wh—what the hell do you mean by that?!!!"

"I want you, Haruka," you say in a matter-of-fact tone, like it was an obvious answer—which it is. "I want you to hold me after. Is that okay?"

How could he say no to that? How could he say no to your pity face, puppy eyes, raised eyebrows and concerned voice? Gosh, he would hit himself and regret for the rest of his life if he said no.

He grumbles under his breath and in the smallest, tiniest voice he could muster, he said, "sure, whatever."

And you guessed it, with a burning red face.

You were so happy you almost wanted to hug him right then and there but you held back. And so, you open up your books and whatever that makes you focus and drown out your surroundings, and start studying while Sakura waits nearby while mentally—and physically—preparing himself for your reward. He'd say the biggest lie if he said he wasn't nervous!

Maybe he should've said no, maybe he shouldn't have accepted just because he wanted to get close to you, he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to feel another person's warmth, your warmth. But if he did say no, he'd probably make a mistake, you'd probably get sad, or mad, or even upset at him for taking back his words. Who wouldn't? You probably think he's a weirdo for accepting something like that so easily. Maybe he should've—

"Haruka?"

The voice in his head immediately stopped going a mile a minute once he heard your soft yet concerned voice.

"I've been calling for you for the past minute. Are you alright? It's already been an hour."

He looked at your face and he wasn't sure. Why do you look so . . . ? Can he feel this way towards you? Can he even think you're worried about him?

"We don't have to do that reward thing if you don't want that. I'll think of something else."

"No!" He said almost too immediately, too desperately. "I-I mean, no. You don't have to change it. It's something you want after all." His eyes are looking everywhere but you.

It's cute.

"Really? Are you sure?" You ask once again, just to get a hundred percent clarification. You don't want to do something only one person enjoys. You want the both of you to feel that joy.

"Tch, yes, I'm sure! After all . . . it's not only you who wants it."

He doesn't know how you can still hear him but somehow, when it comes to things like this, you suddenly have very sharp hearing.

You immediately dive into his arms and lap and snuggle up into his chest. Yes, you know it's a little too sudden for him, but you couldn't hold back the burst in your heart from how cute he was expressing his true feelings.

You can definitely hear his heartbeat thumping loudly and rapidly off his chest but you didn't mind that. You just prayed that he doesn't faint or anything. He's such a strong guy but a soft boy on the inside.

After he cleared his head a little, you feel arms wrapped around your body and immediately you melt in, if possible.

Maybe . . . he never should have said no.

[pillow-coded]

Recording In Progress

Summary: A private investigator goes undercover to expose Spencer Reid’s secrets—but when he catches on, things far more personal than she ever intended.

prompts used: A thinks they've successfully tricked B... when B leans forward and speaks directly into their wire. — “Did you really think this was going to work on me?”

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) MDNI!!!!!

Content Warning: strong language, first person POV, penetrative sex, semi-public sex, dirty talk, power play, unprotected sex, light dom!Spencer, mentions of betrayal and emotional manipulation, semi-consensual dynamics/dubcon, Kinda angsty.

A/N: This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Criminal Minds Undercover Challenge (Also my first second attempt ever for writing smut, hopefully it’s not like bad or cringy)!!

Word Count: 6.3K

I’ve done worse jobs for better pay.

Political smear jobs, corporate leaks, scumbag CEOs cheating on their fourth wives. I’ve worn heels into strip clubs and smiled through dinner with men who thought I didn’t know what a burner phone was. I’ve been called a bitch, a genius, and a ghost, depending on who was signing the check.

I was hired to investigate Dr. Spencer Reid. No reason given, no name offered. Just a large sum wired to my account and a single note: Find out what he’s hiding.

Simple enough.

Except… Spencer Reid doesn’t have a digital footprint. He’s like a ghost in the machine. No scandals, no secrets, not even a hint of skeletons in his closet. And believe me, I looked.

And now here I am—three weeks into my “trial run” as the Bureau’s newest PR-friendly face. The temporary Media Liaison job I got thanks to me pulling some strings. I talk to the news reporters, fetch coffee. Pretend not to notice how agents avoid eye contact when they think I’m listening.

But Spencer?

Spencer doesn’t avoid anything.

He looks right at me when he speaks—slow, deliberate, almost too polite, like he’s weighing every word before he lets it leave his mouth. Like he’s watching for a reaction, waiting to see what sticks. It should’ve made him easy to read. But he wasn’t. If anything, he made me feel like the one under observation.

At first, I told myself he was just awkward. A little too smart, a little too soft. All anxious fingers and mismatched socks, like some deer that wandered too far from the herd and was just hoping someone might keep him company.

Innocent, I thought.

Innocent my ass.

Because there’s something behind those eyes—something that doesn’t flinch. Something that sees everything and stays quiet anyway. And now that I’ve gotten too close, I’m starting to wonder if I’m the one being hunted.

And maybe I should’ve been more careful—should’ve kept my distance.

Because it’s getting harder to tell which parts of this are pretend. The way my hand lingers on his arm when I laugh. The way he says my name like it’s always surprised him.

The wire beneath my shirt itches when I lean forward. I pretend it’s nothing, cross my arms to cover the mic. But he keeps talking.

Stories. Facts. Soft opinions. I record all of it. Hours of audio. Dozens of little truths. And yet none of it sounds like a secret.

It started with coffee.

Not because I actually wanted it—God knows the Bureau’s idea of caffeine tastes like it was filtered through a floor mop—but because he always had one. Every morning. Same cup, same lid, same little paper napkin wrapped around it like he didn’t want his fingers touching the surface.

So I started bringing him one. A peace offering. An excuse. A way in.

“No cream, four sugars,” I’d say, like I didn’t already have it memorized from the second day.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me coffee,” he’d murmur, almost shy. “But thank you.”

Then he’d take it anyway. Every time. Like it was a favor he wasn’t sure he deserved.

It disarmed me.

The first few days I kept things casual—too casual. Just enough charm to keep the agents from digging into my file, just enough polish to look useful in a crisis. And Spencer? Spencer was easy to hover near. Everyone else gave him a wide berth. Not because they didn’t like him, I realized. Because they didn’t understand him.

But I did.

Or I acted like I did, which, honestly, wasn’t hard. He talks when you let him. Especially about things most people pretend to care about but don’t. String theory. Linguistics. Microexpressions. Magic tricks.

“The trick isn’t in the sleight of hand,” he told me once, while shuffling a deck between his fingers. “It’s in where you make people look instead.”

“Is that what you’re doing to me?” I’d asked. “Misdirection?”

He didn’t answer.

Just smiled without showing his teeth.

And it messed me up more than I expected.

Because here’s the thing: Spencer Reid doesn’t flirt. Not really. He observes. He listens, catalogues, memorizes. And he gives you just enough of himself to make you want more. That’s the part I wasn’t prepared for.

Like yesterday—he’d asked about my family. Out of nowhere. Soft and curious.

“You mentioned your dad’s a journalist,” he said, halfway through a case debrief. “Is that what made you want to work in media?”

He had no idea how deep that question could’ve cut. But he asked it like he already suspected the answer and just wanted to see if I’d lie.

I did.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

He nodded. Didn’t press.

But something shifted.

He started watching me more closely after that. Saying my name more often. Brushing past me in the hallway, close enough for the hem of his sweater to ghost over my knuckles. A lesser man would’ve tried something by now. Spencer just... lingered.

And then today. God, today.

The bullpen was nearly empty. Just the two of us, caught in that odd hour between too-late and not-late-enough. I made a joke—light, harmless.

“You know, I’m starting to think you don’t actually like coffee,” I said. “You just like holding something in your hands so you don’t have to look busy.”

I waited for that soft half-smile he always gives when he’s amused. The one that makes his eyes crease, just barely.

It didn’t come.

Instead, he looked at me.

Really looked at me.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he said quietly. Not accusing. Just… observing.

I felt it before he even moved—this creeping heat behind my ribs. I tried to keep still, tried not to let the sudden tension show.

“So do you,” I replied, aiming for playful. It landed a little too breathy.

He took a step forward.

Then another.

I could’ve backed up. I didn’t.

He was close now. Closer than protocol allows, closer than he’s ever been. My pulse ticked loud in my ears. I swallowed. I waited for him to speak.

He didn’t. Not at first.

His eyes flicked to my chest, and for a moment, I thought—

But no. He wasn’t looking at my lips. He was looking lower.

Right where the mic was taped beneath my shirt.

“You wore that all day?” he asked, voice low. No heat in it—just something sharp and calm and terrifying.

“I don’t know what you—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he said.

My mouth shut. The weight of his gaze was like gravity, dragging me down into silence.

And then he leaned in. His mouth hovered just beside my ear, breath warm, voice so low it barely stirred the air between us.

“Did you really think this was going to work on me?”

I stopped breathing. My spine locked. My mouth went dry.

“You’ve been recording me.” It wasn’t a question. He tilted his head slightly, studying me the way you’d study a fracture—trying to guess where the break began.

He didn’t pull away.

“You’ve been careful,” he murmured, “I’ll give you that. The questions were subtle. The charm? Believable. The coffee orders were a nice touch. But I don’t trust people who learn too fast.”

I wanted to speak. I really did. But my throat wouldn’t work.

“Especially not people who ask about things I’ve never told anyone.”

And just like that, he stepped back.

My heart was in my mouth. The wire burned under my shirt like a brand. I felt exposed in a way I never had before—caught not just in a lie, but in something deeper. Something personal. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded disappointed. Maybe even hurt.

“Who sent you?” he asked, softer now. Not demanding. Just… tired. Like he already knew.

“It’s not what you think,” I said.

A small smile tugged at his mouth. But there was nothing warm in it.

“Then tell me what it is. Because I’m trying really hard to believe this wasn’t just some elaborate… game.”

I didn’t say anything.

I wanted to. I think I even opened my mouth. But there was no defense I could give that wouldn’t sound like another lie. Another twist of the knife.

So I just stood there, heart thudding against the wire, pulse loud in my ears, and let him look at me.

He waited.

And when I didn’t give him anything—not an apology, not an excuse—something in his face changed.

Not anger. Not disgust.

Something quieter.

Like disappointment. Like resignation. Like he’d already filed me away under lost cause.

“Tell whoever sent you they won’t find what they’re looking for.”

He paused.

“And if they want to try again,” he says, eyes still on mine, “tell them next time… they should send someone I won’t miss when they leave.”

He turns to walk away, and I should let him.

But I don’t.

“Wait,” I say—sharper than I mean to.

He stops. Doesn’t turn around right away.

When he does, it’s slow. Controlled. Every part of him unreadable. Except his eyes—they're sharper now. Sadder too. Like I’d cut him without knowing where the blade was.

“You think I wanted this to happen?” I ask. “You think I planned to care?”

He just looks at me. Long and hard.

“You didn’t plan anything,” he says. “That’s the problem.”

He steps closer. The space between us evaporates. My pulse flutters. His eyes fall to my chest—where the wire sits taped beneath my shirt. His jaw clenches.

“I should report you,” he says. “Walk you out of here myself and forget this ever happened.”

��You should,” I whisper.

He exhales slowly through his nose. Like he's trying to talk himself down from something.

“I knew something was off,” he says. “But you—you looked at me like…”

He stops. Closes his eyes for just a second. Opens them again.

“I was doing my job,” I say.

“You were lying.”

We’re close enough now that I can feel the tension roll off him like heat. His hand lifts—hesitates—then brushes the edge of my collar. Just two fingers. Just enough to press gently over the place where the wire sits.

His voice is low, and it trembles with something between fury and want.

“I’m going to give you five seconds to walk away before I do something we’ll both regret.”

He doesn’t count.

Neither do I.

Because I don’t move.

And neither does he.

Not until the pretending breaks—soft and sudden, like the snap of a wire pulled too tight for too long.

His breath stutters, and I see it—right there in his eyes—that flicker of recognition. That I’m not going anywhere. That whatever this is between us, it’s no longer something we can ignore.

Then he moves.

Slow at first, like he’s giving me time to pull away. Like he’s testing the current between us.

But I don’t flinch. I can’t.

Without a word, he closes the remaining distance, seizing my chin gently between his fingers. His touch is deliberate—measured—there's heat in it, too. His thumb traces the curve of my lower lip, slow and careful, brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath.

His other hand finds my hip—strong, sure—as he pulls me flush against him. I feel the heat of his body through the fabric of my clothes, the hard planes of his chest and abdomen molding against the softer lines of mine like they were made to fit.

He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away. I don’t.

His lips hover just above mine, a hairsbreadth of space between us. I can feel his breath mingling with mine, warm and unsteady. The scent of him fills my lungs—clean cologne, warm skin, and something unmistakably him.

“Last chance,” he whispers, voice low and rough and dangerous in the best way.

And I don’t take it.

His words hang in the charged air between us, suspended for a single, trembling moment. Time seems to slow—each heartbeat stretching into forever—as I stand there, breath caught, teetering on the edge of something I can’t undo.

He murmurs something under his breath—too quiet to catch, too dark to be innocent—and then he moves.

He closes the final inch between us, and his lips crash into mine in a searing, hungry kiss that steals my breath and sets every nerve in my body alight.

One of his hands tangles into my hair, tilting my head just enough to deepen the kiss. The other tightens at my hip, pulling me harder against him until there’s nothing between us but heat and tension and the press of his body against mine—hard, unyielding, and everywhere.

His tongue slips past my lips, bold and sure, stroking along mine and sending sparks through me so sharp they feel like electricity in my bloodstream. I can taste the desperation in his kiss—feel the pent-up longing in the way his fingers clutch at my waist like he’s afraid I might disappear.

It isn’t a kiss. It’s a demand.

And I give in to it, completely.

He walks me backward, mouth still on mine, until the edge of his desk catches the backs of my legs. I hit it with a quiet thud, breath hitching—not from shock this time, but from the sheer, aching need curling low in my stomach.

His hands skim up my sides, fingertips dragging slowly over the thin fabric of my blouse. His palms are warm and slightly rough, catching just enough to make my skin spark beneath the surface. I feel every inch of contact like a live wire beneath my clothes, and when his hands reach my ribcage, he pauses—just for a breath—before slipping his fingers to the buttons of my shirt.

One by one, he undoes them.

I gasp as cool air brushes the skin beneath, the lace of my bra suddenly far too delicate, too flimsy. But his attention isn’t on the fabric. Not entirely.

His fingers ghost over the mic, still taped below my sternum. He lingers there, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly over it. Then he looks up, eyes dark, mouth curling into something between a smirk and a warning.

My stomach flips. My mouth parts—but I don’t know whether it’s to object or to breathe.

He doesn’t wait for a response.

He leans in and presses his mouth to the base of my throat, kissing a path downward. His lips are hot. His stubble scrapes. He grazes my pulse with his teeth before his mouth latches onto that tender skin just above my collarbone.

He suckles and nips with deliberate intent, letting his jaw rasp against my neck as he pulls another broken breath from me.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” he mutters against my throat, voice low and uneven.

Without warning, his hands grip my thighs and lift—effortless, like he’s been waiting to do it for weeks. He sets me on the edge of his desk, the cool surface biting against the backs of my legs. In the next breath, he steps between them, settling into the cradle of my hips.

The zipper of his slacks scrapes rough against my inner thighs, and then I feel it—hard, hot, and insistent, pressing right where I need him most.

He doesn’t move. Not yet.

He just waits—daring me to admit I want it just as badly.

His eyes lock on mine, sharp and unrelenting, like they’re looking through me, not at me. There’s heat there, sure, but it’s more than that. It’s intensity. Focus. A fire that catches deep in my belly and threatens to devour everything in its path.

The air between us pulses, thick with tension. A silent standoff. Neither of us willing to look away. Neither of us willing to surrender first.

“Tell me,” he says, voice low and raw, rough enough to scrape down my spine. His hands tighten on my thighs, grounding me. Holding me still. “Tell me you’ve felt this too. The way we… fit. The chemistry—it’s like a live wire between us, and you know it.”

He leans in, mouth brushing so close I can feel the shape of the words before he says them.

“I want to hear you say it. Admit it. That you’re just as lost in this… thing as I am. That you burn for my hands, that you crave my mouth, that you ache to be undone by me.”

A tremble works its way through my spine. I don’t trust myself to speak.

His hand slides from my thigh up my side—slow, deliberate. Fingertips grazing the curve of my ribcage, mapping the slope of my breast. He palms it through the thin lace of my bra, the heat of his touch making me gasp.

Then his thumb finds my nipple.

Rolls it. Just once.

A shock of sensation shoots through me, and I bite my lip to stop the sound that nearly escapes.

He feels it. Knows it.

And his mouth curls, just slightly. Like he’s satisfied—but not nearly done.

He gathers my answer without a single word—reading it in the tremble of my thighs, the sharp hitch in my breath, the way heat blooms across my skin in a helpless, rosy flush. His eyes, now dark and heavy-lidded with want, drag over me like he’s cataloging every reaction… and storing it for later.

I don’t even know what I’m begging for when I whisper,

“Spencer… please…”

But it’s enough.

It’s more than enough.

Something shifts in him—like control has finally slipped through his fingers, and now he’s choosing to let it go.

His hand dips beneath the lace of my bra, his fingers brushing bare skin. My breath stutters as his palm curves around me, warm and possessive. He cups the weight of my breast, rolling it gently, then pinches and tugs my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it stiffens in his grasp.

The sensation ricochets through me—sharp, heady, electric.

Before I can even moan, his other hand finds its way into my hair. He fists it at the base of my skull, not rough, but firm enough to steal my breath. And then he kisses me.

No warning. No hesitation.

Just heat.

His mouth crashes into mine with a hunger I feel in every nerve ending. It’s the kind of kiss that scrapes thought from bone. The kind that tells me this isn’t just lust. It’s possession.

I’m not kissing Spencer Reid.

I’m being devoured by him.

He devours my moan like he’s starved for it—like the sound alone could satisfy something buried deep inside him. His mouth moves hungrily against mine, swallowing every breath, every sound, as if he’s trying to consume me from the inside out.

His grip tightens in my hair, angling my head with a rough kind of reverence that opens me completely to him. The hand on my breast isn’t gentle anymore. He kneads the soft flesh firmly, expertly, and the mix of pressure and pleasure sends shivers racing down my spine.

When he finally tears his mouth from mine, I’m gasping—but he doesn’t give me long to recover.

His lips blaze a trail down the column of my neck, his teeth dragging, tongue soothing, until he reaches my pulse point and lingers there. He bites, just hard enough to sting, then soothes it with his tongue, in a way that makes my whole body clench.

He trails lower.

Mouth warm and wet as he moves down the swell of my breasts, over the valley between them, until he reaches the curve of lace hiding what he wants most.

His lips close around my nipple through the soaked fabric of my bra, sucking hard enough to make me cry out. My hips jerk instinctively, chasing friction, chasing him.

His fingers don’t hesitate. They find the clasp at my back, working with practiced ease, and I feel the tension in the garment give way.

I’m panting now, barely keeping up with the pace he’s set—as the cool air hits my bare skin, kissing over every exposed inch and pebbling it with goosebumps. But there’s no relief. Not from the heat pouring off of him. He’s everywhere. Surrounding me. Consuming me.

He shoves the fabric of my bra aside and his mouth descends without hesitation, closing around my nipple in a wet, greedy heat that makes my head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. He licks, broad, deliberate strokes, then circles the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue before suckling, hungry and unrelenting, like he’s ravenous for me.

I cry out. I can’t help it.

His other hand cups my remaining breast, fingers rough and insistent as they knead and pluck, teasing the tip until it aches under his touch. Every movement marks me until I feel like there’s nothing left untouched.

And still, it’s not enough.

His hips begin to move—slow, grinding rolls that press the hard ridge of his arousal against my center. Even through the barrier of my clothes, the friction is maddening. Precise. He grinds again, and I feel my thighs part a little more with each thrust, until the thick swell of him is nestled perfectly against the place I need him most.

I arch. I whimper. I burn.

“Tell me what you need,” he growls, voice rough and low in my ear.

I meet his gaze, barely holding it. My voice trembles as I breathe,

“You… all of you.”

His hand leaves my breast, trailing down the center of my body in a path that feels like fire. slow and deliberate. His fingertips glide over my trembling stomach, dipping lower until they reach the waistband of my skirt.

He doesn’t ask permission.

He just slips his hand beneath it, under the thin barrier of my underwear, and groans softly when he feels how soaked I already am.

“Like this?” he rasps, fingers brushing against my center with maddening restraint. “Is this what you wanted?”

The heat in his voice wrecks me. Low, rough, commanding. A far cry from the soft-spoken man I’d spent weeks practically studying. This wasn’t shy, awkward Spencer. This was something darker. Hungrier. A version of him I wasn’t sure anyone else had ever seen.

He strokes me through the slick fabric, circling over my clit with just enough pressure to leave me gasping but not enough to satisfy. Every touch is calculated—teasing, fleeting—designed to unravel me without giving me what I want.

“Tell me,” he says, the edge in his voice tightening. “Tell me how badly you need me.”

I try to answer, but all that comes out is a broken sound—half gasp, half plea.

His fingers press a little harder, his mouth close to my ear now, every word dripping with dominance and need.

“Say it,” he breathes. “Say you want me. Say you want to feel me deep inside you… filling you, wrecking you.”

The pressure builds, unbearable, electric. I’m shaking. I can barely breathe.

And I want it—I want everything.

“Say it,” he growls, fingers pressing harder against my aching center. The friction sharpens, maddening—his touch no longer teasing but demanding, as he rubs firm, relentless circles over my clit. His other hand grips my hip, holding me in place with bruising intensity, like he doesn’t trust me not to fall apart.

“Beg for it,” he mutters, voice low and wrecked. “Beg for my cock like the desperate little thing I know you are. I want to hear you scream for it.”

The words hit me like a jolt to the spine—vulgar, filthy, perfect.

His fingers shove my panties to the side, and one thick, calloused fingertip slides between my folds, slow and deliberate. He drags it through my slick heat, teasing—hovering just at the entrance, never quite giving in. A low, satisfied sound escapes him, like he’s savoring the way I tremble beneath him.

And then, with the hand not working me open, he reaches down to his belt. I hear the soft clink of metal, the zip of fabric sliding apart. He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t break eye contact. Just keeps touching me—keeping me on the edge—as he frees himself with terrifying calm.

“You feel that?” he mutters, pressing himself into my thigh, the outline of him thick and undeniable through the cotton. “You shouldn’t be able to do this to me,”

His breath stutters against my cheek as he shifts his weight, one hand still working me open while the other reaches down. I feel the stretch of fabric, the quiet drag of cotton being pushed aside. Then the thick heat of him presses directly against me—bare now, heavy and pulsing at my entrance. The last barrier is gone. There’s nothing between us anymore.

He’s right there—right there—poised to push inside, to take, to ruin, and still… he waits.

And I break.

“Please,” I choke out, breathless, undone. “Oh my God, please, I—I need you.”

“I think you do,” he growls, voice low and ragged. “I think you need my cock buried inside this sweet little pussy”

And then he moves.

One swift, brutal thrust—and he’s inside me.

Fully. Completely.

I gasp, no sound behind it, my mouth falling open as he stretches me wide in a single, punishing stroke. He drives in to the hilt, hips pressing flush against mine, forcing my body to take every inch of him.

I’m overwhelmed. Split open. Filled.

“Fuck,” he snarls, the sound rumbling out against my chest, where his body presses hot and heavy over mine.

He gives me no time to adjust—no breath, no mercy. He pulls out almost entirely, just the thick tip left inside, and then slams back in with a force that steals what little air I have left.

Again.

And again.

Each thrust is brutal. Precise. Unrelenting.

The rhythm builds fast—sharp, punishing, perfect—and it’s all I can do to hold on. My cries are ragged, torn from my throat as he drives up into me like he’s trying to etch himself into my body, brand me from the inside out.

One hand clamps around my hip, fingers digging deep into flesh, anchoring me in place as he fucks me like he owns every inch of me.

His free hand moves lower, searching.

I barely register it through the haze of sensation until I feel a sudden tug at my waist—sharp, deliberate.

His fingers find the wire trailing from the recorder clipped to my skirt, and before I can react, he yanks. The movement is swift, almost angry. The adhesive holding the tiny mic to my chest rips free with a sting, the wire snapping taut as he drags the entire thing into his hand like a secret he’s been waiting to expose.

He brings it up, slow and deliberate, until it’s hovering right at my lips.

“Is this still on?” he murmurs, voice wrecked and quiet, eyes never leaving mine. “You gonna send this to them? Let them hear what you sound like when you're being fucked by the person you’re supposed to be investigating?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

He just holds it there—steadily, deliberately—catching every breathless moan, every gasp, every desperate sound that spills from my lips.

“All those filthy little sounds. Let it record what you sound like when you're mine.”

And God help me—I moan for him. Loud. Unashamed.

His eyes flicker—dark and satisfied—as he presses the mic even closer to my lips, like he wants it to catch everything.

“That’s it,” he breathes, the corner of his mouth twitching into the ghost of a smirk. “Let it hear how desperate you sound when I’m inside you.”

He punctuates the words with a sharp thrust, forcing another cry from my throat—one I can’t bite back even if I tried.

“You think they’ll recognize your voice?” he murmurs, low and mocking as his hips roll into mine, relentless. “Think they’ll hear how wrecked you sound and wonder what it cost you?”

Every thrust lands with calculated force, his pace unforgiving, grinding me closer to the edge with each brutal stroke. My hands scramble for something to hold—his shoulders, the edge of the desk, anything—but there’s no grounding here. Just him. Just the sound of skin meeting skin and the filthy, wrecked sounds he’s dragging from my throat.

And the mic.

Still held to my lips. Still recording everything.

“You were supposed to be watching me,” he grits out between thrusts, the words strained with effort. “But look at you now.”

Another slam of his hips, and I cry out again—louder this time, legs shaking, breath hitching. I can feel the tremor starting in my core, the tightening that warns of everything about to snap.

“This what they wanted?” he growls, jaw clenched. “You giving them everything but the answers?”

He presses in deeper—deeper than before, like he’s trying to bury himself in me, leave something behind. His forehead drops to mine, sweat-slick and shaking with restraint.

“You’re not gonna be able to listen back to this without coming apart,” he whispers, voice rough and fraying. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Spencer!”

My nails dig into his back, desperate for something—release, control, him. I don’t even know if I’m clinging to him or trying to pull him deeper, but he groans when I do it—low and wrecked—like it unravels something he’s been barely holding together.

His pace stutters for just a beat.

Then he grabs my thigh, hikes it higher around his hip, and drives into me again with brutal, unrelenting force.

The desk creaks beneath us. The microphone trembles in his hand.

“That’s it…” he breathes against my mouth. “Say my name.”

Another thrust. My body arches, wrecked and raw.

“Say it like you mean it. Let them hear you fall apart for me.”

And I do.

Each time his name tears from my throat, his grip tightens—on my thigh, on my waist, on the mic still trembling in his hand. He’s losing rhythm now, chasing something just out of reach, buried deep inside me like he can’t stop until we both fall off the edge together.

His movements turn rougher, more erratic, like control is slipping through his fingers and he wants it to.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice breaking apart. “Come on—give it to me.”

The pressure coils tight and fast, unbearably sharp, building from deep inside me like a wave I can’t outrun. I feel it clawing up my spine, lighting every nerve on fire, and I know—I know—I’m about to break.

“Spencer—” my voice fractures.

I shatter around him with a cry that borders on a sob, back arching, thighs trembling, everything inside me clenching hard around him as my climax hits like a lightning strike—hot and endless and all-consuming.

He groans my name in return, low and guttural, pressing his forehead to mine as he follows me over the edge with a final, desperate thrust. His body jerks against mine, hips stuttering as he spills into me, his breath ragged and uneven in my ear.

And then… stillness.

Just the sound of our breathing. Heavy. Shaky. Shallow.

His hand falls away from the mic, letting it dangle by its wire like a forgotten confession. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

For a moment, it’s just quiet.

Then he pulls out of me slowly, carefully, like he doesn’t want to hurt me—but the ache he leaves behind is instant.

I shift, suddenly aware of my half-unbuttoned blouse, the stretch of my thigh still hooked around him, the sweat cooling between us. The shame doesn’t hit all at once. It creeps in.

And then he speaks.

“You can stop recording now.”

His voice is calm. Too calm.

My throat tightens. I reach for the mic with shaking fingers, powering it off in silence. He watches me do it—watches everything—and still doesn’t look away.

“Who sent you?”

I flinch.

It’s not a growl. Not a threat. Just a question. Clinical. Lethal in its precision.

“Was it internal? Press? Private buyer?”

I try to form words, but none come. I look at him, eyes wide, mouth parted, still wrecked in every sense of the word. I open my lips—twice—and still nothing.

He exhales through his nose, eyes flicking away for the first time.

Not angry. Not even hurt. Just… resigned.

“That’s what I thought.”

He moves before I can speak. Reaches down, tucks himself back into his boxers, then zips up his slacks with that same quiet efficiency—controlled, distant, like he’s locking something away. Like he doesn’t want me to see any part of him he didn’t mean to give.

“Get dressed.”

His voice is steady, but the tension in his jaw speaks volumes.

I open my mouth again.

“Spencer, I—”

“Don’t.”

He turns away, running a hand through his hair like it hurts to keep standing there. His shoulders are tense, spine straight, but I see the tremble in his hand. He’s not angry.

He’s wrecked.

Not because I fooled him.

Because he let me.

And he’s about to walk away—leave me in the silence we created—when the word escapes me, sharp and sudden:

“Wait.”

He stops. Doesn’t turn around fully. Just enough for me to see the side of his face, unreadable.

My fingers move before I can think. I reach down, disconnect the recorder, and slide out the memory card. Small. Light. But somehow heavier than anything I’ve ever held.

I walk toward him. Quiet steps. Careful steps. And when I reach him, I place it in his hand.

“Here,” I whisper. “Here’s everything.”

He stares at it for a long moment. Then closes his fingers around it.

“What do you want me to do with it?” he asks, voice low. Tired. But not cold.

I meet his eyes.

“Whatever you want.”

He nods—just once—and slips it into his pocket.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

And then, softer than before, he says, “You know… You could’ve just asked.”

I step up beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth still clinging to him. Close enough to imagine, for a second, that we could leave like this. Side by side.

“Would you really have told me anything?” I ask quietly, not looking at him.

There’s a pause.

Then—just barely above a whisper—

“Maybe not everything.”

Another beat. A breath.

“But I would’ve told you the truth.”

We stand there in the hallway—two liars trying to remember how to be honest.

And this time, when he turns to walk, he doesn’t walk away.

He waits.

take a slow step forward, then another, until I’m beside him again. Close enough to feel the quiet shift in the air between us.

“Well… I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” I say, trying to smile—trying to ease the weight.

He doesn’t respond. Just watches me.

So I drop the joke.

“For the record… even if you don’t believe me, it got real. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being part of the job.”

I glance up, meet his eyes.

“You’re real to me, Spencer.”

And for a moment, he just looks at me—searching. Like he’s trying to decide whether to believe me.

Then, finally, quietly—

“I know.”

And he starts walking.

This time, I follow.

[fastandcarlos]

Padel Queen : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: when max suggests couples padel with george and carmen, he worries about how good you'll be, little does he know though what a master of padel you are

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Max asked you one final time as you took the racket that he offered out of his hands. “It’s not too late for us to say no,” he reminded you, anxious eyes watching as you stood yourself up.

You looked the part, but playing the part? You weren’t too sure. When Carmen and George invited you for a game of padel you were keen to find out more about the game that Max seemed to love so much, but now that you were there, your confidence had diminished.

The noise of rackets hitting the ball continually made you jump as you put your trainers on, the speed that some of the balls were struck made you flinch in fear, and the groans of effort that echoed left you questioning how athletic you really were.

“I’ve got this!” You cheered, nudging against Max’s side, refusing to let him see just how nervous you were.

The two of you walked onto the court, picking the side you’d serve from whilst George and Carmen finished getting themselves ready. Max walked across and picked up one of the balls, taking you to the baseline at the back of the court.

“I’m going to teach you how to serve so you’re an expert in the game,” he informed you, turning you so that you were facing the right way.

You allowed Max to guide you, listening closely to his instructions, copying his movements whenever he demonstrated, constantly reminding you that he was an expert of padel.

The first time you served, you just managed to get the ball over the net, watching it bounce dejectedly on the other side of the court.

“How was that?” You grinned, spinning to face Max, his expression not matching your own. “What? What did I do wrong?”

Max scratched nervously over the top of his head, feeling his heart break as he saw how excited you were before him. “Well…you got it over the net, that’s a start.”

You could tell Max was trying to be kind as he went to fetch the ball, handing it back to you again. You stood sideways, like he said, body facing where you wanted to aim, like he said, arm holding the ball out, like he said. But Max wasn’t happy yet. The feeling of a figure right behind you made your body tense up as Max held his hands over both of yours.

“Let’s do it together,” he whispered, getting you to throw the ball up, swinging the racket back. You let Max guide you as the racket hit the ball, watching it go over the net with plenty more power the second time around. “And make sure you follow through with your swing too.”

The two of you practised a few more times before George and Carmen stepped onto the court. Max jogged over to you as you got yourself ready, draping his arm across your shoulders.

“We can beat these two easily,” he joked, trying his best to lighten your mood and fill you with confidence, “serve like I taught you and we’ll be just fine.”

You nodded in reply as George shouted for you to hurry up, taking your positions on the court. Whilst you and Carmen both stood relaxed, George and Max both looked up for the battle, determined to beat each other and earn themselves bragging rights.

George passed the ball to Carmen to start your game off, with Max easily reaching the serve and returning the ball. You found yourself a little lost on the court as Max raced around, almost forgetting as if you were there most of the time. After a bit of back and forth, mostly between the boys, Max lobbed the ball just over Carmen’s head giving you the point.

“That was perfect,” Max cheered as he turned around to approach you, offering his fist for you to fist bump.

You couldn’t help but admire the sudden competitiveness that appeared in Max, it didn’t matter if he was in a car, on the court, or just getting into the car with you, he wanted to be first no matter what.

“It’s your turn to serve now,” Max told you, placing the ball on your racket, “just remember what I told you and you’ll be just fine.”

You took the ball as Max offered you a reassuring smile, turning your body so that you were facing George. You could be forgiven for thinking he was a professional with how he stood, leaving you intimidated opposite him.

You remembered Max’s words as you swung the racket back, throwing the ball up into the air. You took a deep breath before swinging the racket forwards, watching on as the ball flew across the net, leaving a dumfounded George swinging and missing to return your serve.

“What the-“

“Babe! Where did that come from?”

George was frozen to the spot, feeling Carmen’s eyes on him. Meanwhile, Max ran over to you, wrapping his arms around your frame and twirling you around in the air.

“Have you secretly been practising or something?” Max chuckled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “that was one of the best serves that I’ve ever seen in a game of padel.”

You weren’t quite sure where it came from, and truthfully, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hit a ball like that again, but feeling the excitement that radiated from Max made it all worth it. He couldn’t quite believe what he had seen, laughing away to himself in disbelief.

“Turns out I might be better at this than you,” you teased once Max put you down, “I guess you can just call me the padel queen.”

“You told me that she’d never played before,” George called out, letting the reality of what just happened sink in.

Max shrugged in reply, unable to help George. “I swear, I’ve never seen her play like that before. If you want to quit now, just say. I think we know who’s going to win this game now.”

George brushed his hand through his hair as Max took a hold of your hand, leading you back to your positions on court again. There was still a wave of surprise across the net from you as Max took the ball to serve this time.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do it?” You joked, feeling Max’s eyes land on you, the corners of his smile turning up.

“Hey, you might be good, but you’ve got nothing on me yet.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[meadowfics]

burnt skin

cho hyun-ju x f!reader

synopsis: a beach day ends with you taking care of your wife's sunburns <3

warnings: fluff, intimacy, sunburn, body pain

requested

the sun burns bright over the beach, waves glowing like scattered jewels.

you and hyunju have been counting down to this day. all you've been talking about for weeks if to drive five hours away to go to the beach.

now you’re here, sand soft under your bare feet, the salty breeze weaving through your hair.

hyunju’s laughter spills out as she dances with the surf, her dark hair catching the light, her eyes outshining the noon sky.

that oversized sunhat you poked fun at bobs adorably as she turns to flash you a grin.

“come on, love, get in the water!” she shouts, splashing at the foam.

you run to her, your sundress brushing the waves, and her hand finds yours, warm and certain. you wade in together, giggling as the cold nips your thighs.

the hours melt away with crafting a lopsided sandcastle, chasing shells hyunju swears are priceless, sharing juicy watermelon and iced tea.

hyunju never had the chance to go to the beach a lot, thanks to her parents and her demand with the military.

she swipes juice across your cheek, laughing at your mock glare, then leans in, kissing it away.

around three hours into being at the beach, you notice her shoulders are turning pink.

“hyunju, did you put on sunscreen baby?,” you warn, holding up the bottle.

she pouts, “i’m fine, it’s nothing! I've been burnt worse in the marines.”

you sigh, charmed by her stubbornness, and let her play on.

mistake.

by the time you pack up, her skin’s angry red from neck to arms, and she winces pulling on her cover-up, her usual spark dimmed.

back at the airbnb, the mood shifts.

the place is a cozy haven with white walls, blue linens, fairy lights glowing over the bed, the open window framing a fading sunset.

hyunju slumps on the plush couch, her sunhat a crumpled heap.

“I don't remember a sunburn feeling this bad,” she groans, touching her shoulder and hissing.

“told you,” you murmur, but your tone’s all love.

you fetch the aloe vera gel from the bathroom, its cool green scent filling the air, and kneel beside her, “let me fix this, okay?”

ju nods, her eyes soft, trusting. you dip your fingers into the gel, its chill soothing even to your hands, and start with her neck.

you move slowly, deliberately, spreading the gel in gentle circles.

hyunju's skin’s hot under your touch, and she flinches at first, then sighs, her shoulders loosening.

“you’re too good to me,” she whispers, voice low, her gaze locked on yours.

you smile, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering there.

“someone’s gotta care for the princess,” you tease, moving to her arms. you take your time, massaging the gel into every red patch, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of her...her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, the soft skin inside her elbow.

each touch is careful, like you’re mapping her all over again.

you grab a clean washcloth, soaking it in cool water, and wring it out until it’s just damp.

“this’ll help before we go get dinner,” you say, draping it over her neck.

she hums, eyes fluttering closed, and you layer another cloth across her shoulders, pressing lightly to ease the sting. you sit closer now, your thigh brushing hers, and take her hand, working the gel into her knuckles, her wrists, even the spaces between her fingers.

it’s quiet, just the sound of waves outside and her steady breathing.

your wife's free hand finds your knee, squeezing gently, and you feel her gratitude in that small gesture.

“feeling better?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

you’re close enough to see the faint red on her nose. the sunburn there gives her a cute blush.

hyunju nods, leaning into you, her sunburned cheek resting carefully against your shoulder.

“so much,” she murmurs.

you can’t help but kiss her temple, soft as a breath, avoiding her tender skin.

you wrap an arm around her, mindful of her burns, and pull a lightweight throw blanket over you both.

dinner can wait.

“you might be my favorite nurse,” hyunju mumbles, half-asleep, her lips curving into a smile.

you chuckle, tucking her closer, her warmth seeping into you despite the sunburn.

“sleep, tomato,” you whisper, and she laughs faintly. hyunju's breath tickles your neck as she drifts off, safe in your care.

masterlist

[mrgoldmc26]

Wonyoung's Wild Night

Tags: Gangbang, blowbang, interracial sex, airtight, anal sex, dirty talk, lots of facials, honestly just Wonyoung getting passed around like a slut by 5 BBC's

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: This was the first chapter of my K-Pop Sluts series that I have on AO3. I wrote it months ago, and as you are about to see, it has lots of pictures. I really like including pictures in my stories because I just think it gives a nice visualizer...plus, who doesn't like to look at Wonyoung? 

With that being said, I do realize that it's a little bit too many pictures...Like I said at the start, I wrote it months ago, and I have been including less and fewer pictures in my chapters (you can notice this on my Lisa chapter), but I didn't feel like removing any from this one because it's how I wrote it months ago. But yes, you will see fewer pictures in my chapters going forward. For crying out loud, I found out that the pic limit is 30 per post...I had 31 in my AO3 chapter, lmao.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

It was a dark, chilly night under the sky of San Francisco, California, with the moon dipping in and out of the clouds. Wonyoung, fresh off her concert with IVE in Oakland, was hoping to have a nice time at a party, alongside her friend, Steven. He was this friend, that she has been seeing for a while now, and has been inviting him for her shows, but she has really never done anything intimate with him, mainly because he was too shy, and always seemed to cut off any advances Wonyoung attempted on him.

She was hoping that it would all change tonight by getting him loose. They arrived at the compound, where the party was already in full swing. Loud music everywhere, people dancing and drinking, and having a good time.

"Gosh, these songs suck. They should be playing our songs. They are much better."

"I'm not sure your songs are appropriate for a party like this, Wony."

"Really? You are not taking my side, Steven?"

"I'm sorry. You're right. They should definitely be putting your songs."

"Good. Go fetch me a drink. And grab one for yourself too."

"Wony, I don't really like to drink alcohol. And I also don't think you should be drinking alcohol too. Something could happen. It's bad for your health."

"Are you actually fucking serious???"

"I'm sorry, but yes, Wony. An idol like you shouldn't be drinking alcohol."

"Listen to what I fucking told you, and go bring me a fucking drink. NOW!"

"And don't forget yours too, Steven...Ughhh. I'm going to sit down by the pool. Don't take too long. I'm thirsty."

"Yes, Wony. Is there anything you want, in particular?"

"Surprise me...for once in your life..."

Wonyoung walked towards the pool, and sat on a couch nearby. She looked in front and saw millions of city lights and the dark, cloudy sky just above them. She decided to step up her game, in order to finally bag Steven, and so she removed her jacket, exposing her skinny arms.

After a few minutes of waiting, Steven finally came back with the drinks.

"Ughhh, what took you so long?"

"I'm sorry, Wony. I couldn't really decide once I got there."

"Goshhhh, why do you apologize after everything I say."

"I'm so..." Steven was about to say, but a sharp look from Wonyoung stopped him midway. She took the drink from his hand and started sipping it away.

"You know, Wony...you shouldn't really be without your jacket on a cold night like this. You might get sick."

"Reallyyy??? Goshhh, stop being concerned for me all of the fucking time."

"I'm sorry, Wony. I can't help it." Steven said, making Wonyoung angry in the process.

"Also, people could look at you and take photos of you. You shouldn't let people see you like this...drinking and showing off your skin."

"What if I want them to see me like this? What if I want you to see me like this?"

"I...I don't really know what to say, Wony."

"That's your problem...you never know what to say."

"I think we should leave this place. I don't like it in here. It's also getting late."

"You can't actually be serious. We literally just arrived..."

"Yeah, but I'm kinda getting sleepy."

"That's it. I've had enough. You want to go? Go!"

"Wony...I...I'm sor.."

"Don't you fucking dare say you're sorry."

"Just leave alone, Steven. I don't really care anymore."

"But I'm your ride."

"I'll call an Uber. Stop fucking worrying about me all of the time."

"You should really stop swearing, Wony. People could catch you, and it would be all over the internet."

"Steven...honestly...go fuck yourself. Leave me alone."

"But..."

"GO AWAY!!!" Wonyoung loudly told him, making him slowly turn away, as he walked out of the compound and went into his car.

"Fucking dumbass...why do I have such a shitty taste in guys." She thought to herself.

Wonyoung put her hands around the side of her head and just stayed like that for minutes, looking down at the pool and the reflex of the moon on the water. She was almost ready to get up and leave when she was suddenly approached by a group of 5 black guys.

"Oh, great....just what I needed...let me guess...you are all fans and want my autograph. Did I get it right?"

"Oh, wait...maybe you all want a photo with me, so you can show it to all your friends. Is that it?"

"Damn Wonyoung...never would've guessed you were this bitchy. I thought you were more sweet and kind, but I guess we were all wrong. We are indeed all fans of you, but we didn't come here to ask you for anything."

"I...ughhhh...I've just had a rough couple of minutes."

"We saw what happened from a distance, and it looked like you were arguing with a guy. We just wanted to ask you if you are doing alright."

"Not really, to be honest." Wonyoung responded.

"Who was that guy anyway?"

"Steven. He's...was....was a friend. A lame friend that was simply a little bitch that never made a move on me."

"Really? I don't believe that. I bet you get hit everywhere you go."

"I do...but not by him...not once."

"Am I not attractive enough?"

"Of course you are, girl. You are the most beautiful woman on the planet."

"It was a rhetorical question, guys...of course I'm hot...I mean...look at me!!!"

"Steven is probably gay, or something like that." A dude said.

"Yeah...maybe. Fuckkkk. What a shity night." Wony said.

"Do you guys have any idea how hard it is to be an idol?"

"I barely get any chances to have fun, and the one time I finally can have some fun and maybe a little action, he acts like a fucking overprotecting wimp."

"I mean...the night is still young...you can still have some fun..." One of the guys said, with a smirk on his face. It was only at that point that Wonyoung started connecting the dots, and understood what they really wanted, and the real reason they were talking to her in the first place.

"Fun...you say?" Wonyoung asked, slightly tilting her head up with curiosity.

"Yes. You can have a great time with us."

"Yeah? What would you guys do to make sure I have some fun?" Wonyoung asked, as she put her hands on the thighs of the guys' sitting right next to her and slowly started caressing them.

"Well, we would definitely hit on you, unlike that other loser."

"I would love that. I love when guys hit on me. When they drool all over me, because they can't handle how hot I am."

"What else? What else would you do to me?" She asked, as she looked at them and their strong arms coming out of their shirts. They were all so hot, and they acted completely differently towards Wonyoung, than Steven did.

"We would make you feel so good. Like, no one has ever made you feel before."

"Oh...really? Do tell." Wonyoung said, as she kept massaging the guys' thighs and moving her hands closer and closer to their crotches.

"We would start by kissing you and touching your body, and then we would slowly remove your clothes." One of them said, as the two guys sitting next to her started touching her thighs.

"Hmmmm....and then?" Wonyound asked, biting her lips.

"Then we would put you on your knees, and feed you all of our cocks, until you choked on every single one of them." Another guy said, as Wonyoung felt his hands going up her dress, and touching her pussy over her panties.

"Oh, fuckkkk...continue please." She said, moaning at every word they said.

"After taking our cocks down your throat, we would take turns fucking every single one of your precious tight little holes, over and over again."

"I need that!...I need it so much! Keep going, daddy!" Wonyoung begged, as the words that they were saying were almost as pleasurable as the fingers that were now inside her.

"And finally we would cum all over that pretty face of yours."

"Oh my god, I want it so badly. I want all of your cum on my faceeeeee."

"Please fuck me. Right now!!!"

"Is that what you want, Wony?"

"Yes...I want all of you guys to be my daddy."

"We can be your daddy for the night, if you promise to be our little cumslut."

"I promise! I will be your little cumslut!!!"

"I'll be your personal cumdumpster."

"I just really want all of your cocks and all of your cum on my face."

"I can't believe an idol like you is this desperate for cocks."

"I'll gladly show you just how desperate I am, daddy. Show me the way to the bedroom."

The guy in front of her smiled, before picking her up from the couch and putting her on his shoulder, as he proceeded to walk inside the house, walking past several large crowds of people with Wonyoung on his shoulders, and the other 4 guys walking just behind them. Anyone could've so easily recognized Wonyoung, and everyone they walked past easily understood what was about to happen to Wonyoung.

As soon as they got upstairs and into a room, the guy carrying her threw Wonyoung onto the bed, and she quickly got on her knees and started taking off her clothes, until all she had left was her bra and her panties. The guys also started taking off their clothes, including their shirts and their pants.

"Take those pants off, daddies. I'm waiting for your cocks. Show me what you have in there." Wonyoung told them, as they removed the belts holding their pants, and then took them off. She was now facing their massive bulges in their underwear, and she was already licking her lips.

"Mmmm, I bet you guys have the biggest cocks I've ever seen."

"I don't think you're ready to see our sizes, Wony..."

"Probably not, but I really need it. I want it."

"I'm so fucking horny for your cocks."

She could see the five black guys staring at her, and their crotches were getting bigger and bigger, the more Wonyoung used her mouth and words to tease them.

The guys dropped their boxers, revealing their hard, big, veiny, throbbing, long black cocks, that made Wonyoung drool, as she stared at them with her mouth agape.

"You like what you see?"

"Uh huh." Wony said, unable to not only come up with something to say, but also unable to take her eyes away from their big black cocks.

"Do you want our cocks, baby?"

"Yes daddy! I want them all in my mouth."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! C'mon...give it to me!"

"Ok. But only if you beg for it."

"Please give me your cocks, daddy. I'll do anything for them." Wonyoung begged, as they hopped on the bed, and surrounded Wonyoung. Their massive, throbbing, veiny cocks just a few inches away from her face.

"Show us how desperate you are."

"Put them all on my face, and I'll show you how desperate I am for your black cocks."

"I want these massive black cocks all over my face."

The guys did what she asked for, and started rubbing their cocks all over Wonyoung's face. Rubbing their precum all over her cheeks, and their cocks over her lips. Wonyoung couldn't help but giggle, as the tips of their cocks touched her skin.

"Fuck yes...this is soooo hot. More...keep doing this." Wonyoung demanded, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue.

They did as she said, and continued smacking her face with their hard cocks. Slapping her with their cockheads and rubbing them over her lips.

"More, please! Rub your big dicks all over my face."

"Rub them harder. Make them leak precum all over my pretty face." Wony said, as she felt one guy rub his balls all over her lips and her nose.

"Yes, daddy...that's it. Use me like a slut. Like a worthless cumslut."

"That's exactly what you are. Nobody likes you for your singing or your dancing. They all like you because you look like a perfect doll."

"People only like you because you are hot. That's why all those fans scream for you."

"That's true. Everything you guys are saying is true. I would be nowhere if I didn't look like this."

"They wish they could be here, using your naked body for their pleasure, but instead we are the ones who get to do that."

"I bet none of them have bigger cocks than you guys, so I'm happy that you are the ones that will use my body tonight." Wony said, as she started kissing the tips of their black cocks, one by one, as she also used her hands to massage their balls.

"You want that, don't you, Wony?"

"Yessssss...I want to be used like a fuckdoll by your big black cocks."

"I'm the hottest female idol in the world, and I need to be treated like the hot slut I am."

"Tell us how much you want our big black cocks, and we will treat you like the naughty little slut you are."

"Yesssss, I want your cocks. I want them all. I want them in my mouth. In my pussy. In my ass. All over my face."

"Tell us, what a slut you are!!!" One guy, said, slapping her ass with immense strength, leaving a big red mark.

"OH MY GOD, FUCKKK...I'm a little slutty idol, daddy."

"I'm a dirty, desperate little slut for black cocks."

"My mouth is open. Please put your cocks inside my mouth, daddy." Wony said, opening her mouth as wide as she could, waiting for any black guy to slide his cock inside her mouth and down her throat.

One guy grabbed her by her hair, and started ramming his cock down her throat. Wonyoung could not believe the size of the cock that was in her mouth. Wony tried her best to fit all of his huge cock in her small mouth, whilst she reached behind her back and took off her bra.

"Damn, Wony. Those are some nice titties you have."

"I thought they would be smaller."

They weren't big or anything remotely close to that, but they were a pretty decent size, considering her body type.

Wony smiled with her lips still wrapped around a huge black cock, as she finally started using her hands to pleasure more guys at the same time. She put her hands around two cocks and started stroking them.

"Your hands are so tiny compared to my cock."

"Mmmm hmmm." Wony nodded, as she started deepthroating the first guy's dick.

"Oh fuckkkk. Damn. Your mouth feels so good." The guy groaned, as he kept shoving his dick down her throat.

"Fuck, daddy...your cock is so good." Wony said, when the guy eventually pulled his dick out of her mouth.

One guy put his hand on her chin and made her look up at him, before slapping her in the face with his dick, making her moan.

"Damn...you are such a naughty little slut, aren't you?"

"You want this dick, Wony? You wanna taste my cock?"

"I want your black cock inside my mouth, daddy. Let me taste it." Wony begged, and the guy slid his cock between her lips, until he was fully inside her mouth. He didn't stop until his entire black cock was deep down her throat, making her gag and cough.

"That's right, Wony. Deepthroat my cock, you fucking slut." He said, as he started furiously ramming his cock down her throat, making her spit saliva everywhere, even with her lips sealed tight around his dick.

"You want another one, Wony?" Another guy asked.

"Hmmm, hmmm" Wonyoung replied with her lips still around a thick, throbbing, black cock. He let her go after a couple more thrusts to the back of her mouth, and Wony got in a quick breather.

"Give me your cock, daddy. Let me taste it." She begged, before another cock was shoved down her throat.

"Fucckkk, I can't believe I'm having my cock sucked by Wonyoung."

"She's a really good cocksucking slut."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Hmmmm, hmmm." Wonyoung moaned in response.

"I'll bet a slutty bitch like you loves tasting black cock, don't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I love it."

"Good. Keep sucking it then, slut." He said, and Wony did just that, as she kept sucking every guy for a lengthy amount of time, before moving to the next big black cock that was put right in front of her pretty little face.

After every guy got their long turn with Wonyoung, the guys started taking quick turns with her mouth, sliding their big black cocks past Wonyoung's luscious lips, and fucking her tight, warm throat over and over again, for a couple of seconds, before swapping between themselves.

"You like that, Wony? You like being passed around like a slut?"

"Mmmm, hmmm. I love it. This is what I wanted. I love sucking your black cocks." Wonyoung said, looking at the guy who just had his dick in her mouth, as she gave his shaft a nice lick, before moving her lips on the side of his dick, and leaving a trail of saliva.

"Good. Now keep sucking them like the naughty little cumslut you are."

"Yes, daddy." Wonyoung said, as she proceeded to grab one of the cocks in front of her and started sucking it, bobbing her head up and down, while also moving her tongue around it.

"You look so hot with a cock in your mouth."

"Mmmm...it tastes so good." Wony said, as she started licking the tip, before going back down again.

"This is so hot. I love sucking big dicks." She said, in between sucks.

"You are doing a great job. Keep going, Wony."

"You guys have no idea how long it's been since I had cocks down my throat." She said, as stopped sucking his cock, and instead started stroking two dicks at the same time for a couple seconds, before moving on to the other guys' cocks, always trying to give the same amount of time to each one.

"A woman like me should be getting dicked on a daily basis, and not a single day should go by without having a cock in my mouth."

"Yeah? And what about the rest of your body?"

"It should be used as a toy for cocks. For the pleasure of the lucky guys I deem worthy of fucking me and my tight holes."

"And what about cum, Wony?"

"Oh my god, cum is like, my favourite thing in the whole world. I love feeling it inside me, and all over me."

"I need it. I crave it."

"If I could survive on cum, I would be the happiest girl in the world."

"My life would be so much better if I used cum as a replacement for my mascara."

"My face would look even prettier. Trust me, guys. I look amazing with cum on my face."

"Well, we'll see it later, won't we, Wony?"

"Of course, daddy. I can't wait to have all of your loads all over my face."

"Gosh, just thinking about it...it's making me so fucking wet. I need a cock inside me, right now!" Wonyoung said, as she stopped stroking their cocks for a moment, and quickly removed her panties and spread her legs, showing her perfect shaved pussy. She put two of her fingers on her slit and started rubbing it.

"That's right. Rub that tight little pussy for us."

Wonyoung put on an absolute show for the guys, as she moved her fingers around her pussy, spreading her lips open and letting the guys see the inside of her cunt, before she went back to playing with her clit, while also licking her lips as she couldn't stop staring at the 5 big black cocks in front of her, just hanging in the air. They looked so perfect and big, and Wonyoung tried to guess which one would be inside her first, which one would cause her to moan the loudest, and which one would give her the biggest load.

"Taste yourself, Wony."

"Mmmm...yes, daddy." She said, as she quickly removed the hand she was using to play with herself, and placed it in front of her mouth, as she started licking and sucking her own juices off her fingers.

"You really are a nasty little slut." One guy said.

"And sluts deserve to get fucked." Another one added.

"That's exactly what I want."

"I want to get fucked like the little slut I am."

"Yeah, Wony? How do you want it?"

"I want to get fucked on the bed, daddy. I want to get spitroasted."

"I want you guys to take turns and use me like your personal fuckdoll."

"And then I want you guys to fuck my pussy and ass at the same time, whilst someone is fucking my mouth."

"Anything else, princess?"

"Just daddy's cum, all over my face at the end." Wonyoung said, with a huge smile on her face.

"Alright, then. Let's get to it." One guy said, as he placed himself behind Wonyoung and immediately put his left hand on the back of her neck, pushing it down onto the mattress, alongside her head, as the other guys climbed off the bed and formed a line right in front of the edge of the bed, where her head was, and waited for their turn.

Wonyoung was on her knees, with her tits not only pressed against her knees, but also squished against the mattress, as both guys pressed their cocks against her holes.

"You ready, Wony?"

"Yes, daddy. Just feed me your cocks and pound me already." She said, before opening her mouth wide, as the guys didn't even waste one second, and pushed their cocks inside her mouth and her pussy, and started fucking her, not holding back at all.

"Oh fuckkkk...Wony..."

"Oh my fucking god...you guys need to try this pussy. She's so fucking tight." He moaned, as he kept pounding away at her.

"Really bro?" The guy fucking Wonyoung's mouth asked.

"Yes. It's incredible. She has the tightest pussy I have ever fucked." He said, before he started to fuck her much faster than before, as he felt his cock get squeezed by her pussy, which was dripping with juices.

Wonyoung kept moaning, even with a cock buried deep down her throat, as she felt her tight pussy get stretched by the girth and length of the dick, and her throat being filled by another huge dick.

"I bet this is what your fans want, isn't it? To fuck you however they want, and for you to be their perfect little slut."

"That's why they pay hundreds of dollars for a single concert ticket, just in the hope that somehow, someway, they get a chance to fuck you."

"Actually...no. All of your fans are shy, weak and pathetic, just like Steven. Your fans would probably rather see us destroy you and your tight holes with our big black cocks than them with their tiny dicks."

All Wonyoung could do, was stay there, in an uncomfortable, yet pleasurable position, taking their big black cocks over and over again, feeling her holes being used by the biggest cocks she had ever seen in her life.

"Fuck, I need to swap right now, or else I'm going to cum inside her pussy. This shit is way too fucking tight for my dick." He said, massively slowing down his thrusts so that he didn't blow his load so soon, but he still kept his cock inside, slowly pushing it back and forth, as he still wanted to feel her tight pussy, and the warmth that surrounded his cock.

"Damn, dude. Then I think I'll take her pussy next. Just let me fuck her mouth a little bit longer." One guy said, as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, and started furiously facefucking Wonyoung, not giving a single care in the world.

"Fuck, your mouth feels amazing, but I think it's time I stretch that sweet pussy of yours." He groaned, before slowly pulling his dick out and making his way around her, and towards her pussy. As soon as he got there, the guy that was fucking her pussy pulled out, but not before slapping her ass harshly, leaving yet another red mark on her cute little butt.

"Have fun. This pussy is fucking great." He said, as he joined the 3 other guys that were in front of Wony's face, going to the back of the line as he awaited his time to fuck her throat.

"Ahhhhh fuck. That was amazing, you guys."

"I loved having both your cocks sliding in and out of my mouth and my pussy."

"Can't wait for the rest of you guys." She said, licking her lips in anticipation, whilst looking at the massive black cock right in front of her face.

"C'mon. Put your dicks inside me already. I get cold when I don't have cocks inside me. I need them to warm me up." Wonyoung said, as the guy in front of her pressed his cocks against her lips, and she gladly opened her mouth and let him slip his dick inside her, and start fucking her mouth, while the guy behind her slammed his dick into her cunt, and started thrusting away, making Wonyoung moan around the dick in her mouth.

"I can't believe this is happening."

"Wonyoung is getting spitroasted by us and our big black cocks."

"FUCKING HELL...you were not kidding when you said her pussy was the tightest you had ever fucked." The guy behind her said, as he tried his best to keep thrusting his cock in and out, as his dick was being squeezed by her pussy.

"Fuck her harder. I want her to moan around my cock."

The guy behind her complied and started thrusting as hard and as fast as he could, feeling her tight pussy getting stretched and fucked, whilst also hearing her muffled moans around his friend's cock, as he fucked her mouth, going faster and deeper, with each passing second.

"Oh, fuckkkk...that's it, Wony. You look so fucking sexy, moaning with my cock in your mouth."

"I wanna hear how she moans when I fuck her as deep as I can go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just stop for a sec."

"Alright bro." He said, as he removed his cock from Wonyoung's mouth, and started stroking it in front of her face, whilst the guy behind her started ramming his cock as deep and as hard as he could, causing Wonyoung's moans to fill the room.

"Fuck...daddy...your cock is so fucking good inside me."

"Good girl. Take it. Take this fucking cock, you nasty little slut." He groaned, as he kept pounding her, his hips crashing into her ass, making it jiggle every time.

"Mmmm, that's right, daddy. I'm a nasty little slut for your cock."

"I'm a cumslut for all of your black cocks."

"Just keep fucking my tight little pussy, daddy."

"And you...I want you to slide that cock back inside my mouth. I want to slurp on it, until it's ready to go inside my pussy." Wonyoung said, before opening her mouth once again.

The guy in front of her slapped his cock on her tongue a couple of times, before pushing his dick past her lips, as Wony went right to work on his meaty cock, whilst his friend kept pounding her pussy with his cock.

"Ahhhhh fuckkk. So good."

"Your lips were made to be wrapped around my cock, Wony."

"Yes, they were. Your cock tastes so fucking good, daddy." Wonyoung said, whilst she stroked him for a couple of seconds, before she put his dick back in her mouth."

The guy put his hands on both sides of her face, and started facefucking her, his cock going in and out of her throat, as her mouth was basically a hole for him to fuck.

He then pinched her nose with his left hand, and used his right hand to hold her head, so that her head couldn't move, as he just started slamming his cock deep down her throat, going balls deep, and not stopping at all. Wony started struggling for air, but couldn't really move, and all she could feel was a cock lodged down her throat, and another one rapidly going in and out of her pussy.

After a couple of seconds Wonyoung started gagging, and the guy released his grip and let her go, as she took a couple of deep breaths.

"Ahhhh...ahhhh...do it...do it again, please. I want your cock deep down my throat again."

"I'm afraid if I do that again, I will cum down your throat, and if I remember correctly, you want my cum on your face, isn't that right?"

"Yes, daddy. I would love to swallow your load, but I do really want your cum on my face."

"That's what I thought. Well, I guess it's time for me to find out just how tight your pussy is."

"So tight. I want you to stretch it, daddy. Can you do that for me?" Wony asked, whilst biting her lip.

The guy didn't bother to respond, grinning instead as he made his way behind her, and waited for the guy that was fucking her pussy to stop and hop off the bed, giving him the "keys" to her tight little precious pussy.

"Beg for it, slut. Beg for my fucking cock, Wonyoung."

"Please, daddy. Please give me your cock."

"Give me your big black cock. I need it inside me."

"Stretch my tight little pussy, daddy."

He grinned once again, before he pushed his dick deep inside her, and started pounding away, fucking her tight pussy, making her scream in pleasure, as her eyes rolled in the back of her head, while her hands gripped the sheets as hard as she could, and the guys in front of her watched, and awaited their turn to not only fuck her mouth, but also her pussy.

"Daddy...ohhhh, yes...daddy...keep fucking me...your cock feels so good..." Wony moaned, whilst her breasts were being squished against the mattress, due to the force of the guy behind her, who kept ramming his cock deep and fast into her cunt.

"Ahhhhh...fuck...daddy...keep going. I'm so close."

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, you filthy little slut?"

"Yessss, daddy. Keep fucking me, just like that. Make me cum all over your big black cock."

"Then cum, Wony. Cum on this big fucking cock."

"Ahhhhhh...oh fuuuckkk."

"Oh my fucking god...you're making me cum. I'm cumming, daddy..." Wony screamed, as she started shaking and squirming, whilst the guy kept pounding her, making her cum on his cock.

"Such a good girl, cumming on daddy's cock."

Wonyoung didn't even have time to recover or respond to him, because the guy in front of the line grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her forward, before pressing his dick against her lips and sliding it into her mouth.

"You like that, Wony? Being passed around all 5 of us?" He asked, as Wonyoung used her tongue to massage the underside of his shaft, whilst he kept slowly sliding it in and out of her throat.

"Yes, daddy. I love being a slut for all of your big black cocks." Wonyoung said in between sucks, as she felt the guy who had just given Wony her first orgasm of the night start slamming his cock once again into her wet, warm and tight pussy, making her moan even more, sending vibrations onto the cock in her mouth.

"You are so fucking pretty, Wony."

"So beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

"I know I look pretty with a dick in my mouth, but I also know I look even better when it's a long, hard black cock." Wonyoung said, before taking his dick deep in her mouth once again.

"Fuck...I love that dirty mouth of yours, Wony."

"Talk dirty to us, Wony."

"Tell us what a filthy little slut you are."

"Tell us how much you love getting fucked by our black cocks." He said, as Wonyoung let go of the dick, and gave him the nastiest, sexiest smile, ever.

"I love your black cocks. I'm addicted to them." Wonyoung said, as she started stroking his dick.

"I wish I could bring all of you to our tour, so that you guys could pass me around after each concert."

"I would love for you guys to fuck every single one of my holes after each concert and then dump your warm cum all over my body, my face and my tits." She said, squeezing her boobs with her arms.

"I would love if you guys fucked me just before a concert and for me to go out there and perform in front of thousands of fans with your cum dripping out of my pussy and my asshole."

"Yeah, I bet you would love that, wouldn't you?" He asked.

"Such a naughty little slut, you are." He added.

"I'm daddy's perfect slut."

"Gosh, keep stroking that cock, Wony, fuckkk...I can't wait to cum all over your face."

"It makes me so wet, just knowing that I'm about to be a cumdumpster for 5 huge black cocks. It turns me on so much."

"Fuckkk, Wony. You're the one who is turning me on, girl. I need to smash that pussy of yours right now."

"Hmmm...since you haven't been inside me yet, how about I let you fuck my ass instead?"

"Is it tighter?"

"Well, considering I have had 3 big black cocks stretching my pussy already, and 0 inside my ass, I would say so."

"I've never taken one so big in there, but I really want to try it, daddy. So please...put your cock in my ass, and fuck me as hard as you can."

"Alright girl. I'm going to destroy this little cute ass of yours." He said, reaching forward and smacking her ass, leaving another red mark on it.

"HEY? WHAT ABOUT ME, MAN? I HAVEN'T FUCKED YOU EITHER!" The guy right behind him yelled, as he joined him by his side, and now had Wonyoung right in front of him as well.

"That is right, you haven't." Wony said, as she reached out for both of their cocks and started stroking them.

"Like I said earlier, I want to get my ass and my pussy fucked at the same time, so how about I ride that cock of yours whilst he fucks my tiny little asshole?" She added, as she took his cock into her mouth, awaiting his answer.

"Oh fuck, girl...you don't have to ask me twice..." He moaned, letting Wonyoung suck his dick, whilst her hand was stroking the other, until she decided to switch and started sucking the other one.

"Hmmm, yummy. You two taste so good." Wonyoung said, licking her lips, before putting his cock in her mouth, and the other guy's cock in her hand, stroking him as fast as she could, whilst she bobbed her head up and down the cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, tasting every inch of him.

"Ahhhh, fuckkkk...shit, Wony...you're too good at this."

"Mhmmm, I know." Wonyoung hummed, before deepthroating him and gagging around his cock for a couple of seconds, before releasing his dick, and stroking him, whilst she began deepthroating the other guy.

"Ohhhh shit, Wony. Just like that, girl. Just like that."

"Ohhhh fuckkk. I love going back and forth between your cocks."

"It feels...so...fucking...good. I love taking turns sucking both of them." She said, as she kept going back and forth, sucking and slurping on their cocks, and making the 2 guys moan in pleasure.

"I think they are ready to go inside my holes." Wony added, kissing both of their tips, before moving slightly backwards, so that one of the guys in front of her could lay down where she was previously.

He laid down, and Wonyoung got on top of him. She reached behind her and grabbed his dick, before guiding it towards her pussy. She then lowered her body, and his dick slid into her pussy, making her moan, whilst she slowly went down, and took all of his size into her cunt.

Wonyoung didn't even give a chance for the guy behind her to stick it in her ass, because she immediately started bouncing up and down on the dick inside her pussy, feeling it going deeper and deeper, and also brushing past her g spot, making her scream and moan like crazy.

"OH MY GOD, THAT FEELS SO GOOD. KEEP FUCKING ME, DADDY."

"I fucking love bouncing on your big black cock."

No words came out of his mouth, and instead he just reached his hands forward, and started playing with her tits, pinching her nipple and squeezing her soft breasts whilst she bounced up and down his shaft, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her wet pussy every time, stretching it even further, and causing her to scream and moan loudly, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

"Ayo...Wony...just stop for a sec. I want to put it in your ass." The other guy said.

"I'm sorry, daddy. I just got too excited. His cock is filling me so well, I just couldn't resist bouncing on it for a bit."

"It's alright...you're just a cumslut addicted to our cocks. I get it." He said, putting a hand on her face before kissing her luscious lips."

"I am, daddy. I'm so addicted to all of your cocks. I want them all."

"Beg for it, Wonyoung."

"Please, stick it in. Shove that big dick up my ass, daddy."

"I want you to destroy my ass, daddy. Please."

"Huuuuuh, boys...what do you say? I can't say no to our little slut, can't I?

"Fuck her ass, man."

"Fuck her as hard as you can."

"Make her our fucking anal slut."

He smiled, hearing the answers coming from his friends, before lining his cock with Wonyoung's tight little asshole, and slowly shoving his dick inside her.

"Ahhhh fuck. That feels soooo goooood." Wonyoung moaned, feeling both her holes being stuffed by their big dicks, whilst they were both inside her, as the one underneath her was also balls deep inside her pussy.

"You were not lying, Wony. This really is a tight little asshole."

"I need you to stretch it, please. I want it to be stretched as wide as possible."

"I can't wait for you to start fucking it."

"I want to be your anal slut, daddy."

"Fuck me hard, daddy. Pound my tight little asshole, please."

"Fuck, man. I don't know how tight that asshole is, but let me tell you something...this pussy is TIGHT! Didn't the three of them stretch it?" He said, trying his best to look backwards with Wony on top of him.

Wonyoung was so lost in the pleasure of having both of her holes stuffed at the same time, that she almost completely forgot about the three other guys that had already gotten their turns with not only her mouth, but also her pussy. She saw them slowly stroking their cocks, as they kept watching Wonyoung get pounded by their friends.

"C'mon guys...don't be shy. I know you're not shy...come here."

"I was starting to wonder if our little slut had forgotten about us, guys."

"Me? Never...I couldn't ever possibly forget about these big black cocks." She said, with a smile on her face, as she put her hands around two of their cocks and started stroking them.

"You guys like that? Like having your cocks stroked by me whilst watching your friends fuck me?"

"Yessss, baby. Fuck, your hands are so soft."

"Yeah, and the way you stroke them, it's fucking amazing."

"Keep talking dirty to us, Wony. Keep telling us what a slut you are."

"Ohhhh fuck. I am a slut. I'm a filthy fucking slut."

"I'm daddy's filthy little slut."

"Mmmmmm yeah, and this is exactly what filthy little sluts like me do. We take their daddy's big black cocks, and let them stretch our tight little holes, just like they are doing right now."

"And we like to get spitroasted, and double penetrated, and have their cum all over our faces, just like you guys will do with me, later." Wonyoung said, already fantasizing about having the guys' cum on her face.

"And you..." Wonyoung said, looking up to the right in front of her.

"I don't think I need to tell you what to do." She added, as she opened her mouth.

"No, you don't, girl." He said, as he slowly put his cock past her lips and gave full control to Wonyoung, letting her suck his dick at the pace she wanted.

The room was filled with moans and grunts from all the guys, as Wonyoung was pleasuring all 5 of them at the same time. The sounds of her cheeks getting clapped every time the guy behind her thrust his dick inside her ass, mixed with the sound of his friend's dick slamming in and out of her pussy, were not only echoing across the room, but that feeling, of their cocks going in and out of her holes was making Wonyoung moan loudly, which was obviously muffled, thanks to the cock in her mouth. All whilst she had her hands wrapped around the 2 last remaining cocks.

Wonyoung was impressed with herself. Not only from the way she was handling all 5 cocks at once, which was something completely new to her, but also how quickly she managed to turn around her horrible start to the night. She was almost laughing around the cock inside her throat, just thinking that had the night gone a different way, she would probably have her lips wrapped around Steven's tiny gay cock. But thankfully for her, it didn't. She was quite easily having the best night of her life, being passed around these 5 strong and hot black guys who were making her their personal cumslut.

"Fucking hell...will this pussy ever get a little bit more loose? Been fucking it for like 10 minutes now...I can't believe how tight you still are."

"Sorry, daddy. That's just how I was built..."

"I was made to take cocks, and I guess that, if you want your cock to feel less suffocated by my pussy, you're just gonna have to stretch me out."

"Fuck me harder, daddy. Make me take your big black cock."

The guy complied and started thrusting faster and harder into her, making her bounce on his cock, his pelvis smacking against her butt, her moans filling the room. Not wanting to be left behind, the guy fucking her ass also began going harder and deeper inside her, his hands tightly gripping her waist, as he was drilling her with his long hard dick.

"OH MY GOD...fuck me, daddies. Use me. Please, pound my holes harder." Wonyoung begged, as she started moving her hips, making sure to slam them backwards whenever a cock was going forward, thus meeting each other half-way and creating a much stronger impact.

"Just keep fucking me. I don't care how hard, just give it to me, daddy."

"You guys are so good. My holes are yours. Use them however you want."

"Do whatever you want with me. Just please make me cum again."

"Is that what our cumslut princess wants?"

"Yes, daddy. Make me cum on your big black cocks, ple..." Wony said, before being interrupted by a cock entering her mouth and her throat, making her gag around his length.

"Sorry, Wony...but your mouth is just too fucking sexy. I can't take it anymore."

Wonyoung just rolled her eyes back and smiled, before wrapping her tongue around his dick and bobbing her head up and down.

"You like that, baby? You like sucking daddy's big black dick, whilst your pussy and ass get destroyed?"

"Mhmm, hmmmm..." She hummed, nodding her head and sending vibrations throughout his body, making him groan and grip her hair tightly.

"I bet you can't go anywhere without dropping to your knees and sucking dicks. It's why you always have bruises on your knees, isn't it?"

"Hmmmm, hmmm..." Wony moaned around his dick, which was lodged in her throat.

"Whose dicks are you sucking, huh? Producers? Directors? Dancers? Sponsors? Fans? Which one is it, you fucking slut?" He asked, giving one final hard thrust to the back of her throat before releasing the grip on her head, letting her talk.

"All of the above, daddy. I suck any and every cock I come across."

"That's what I thought, you nasty fucking slut. How many of them have you sucked?"

"Too many to count, daddy. All you need to know is that your cocks are all way bigger than any of them." Wonyoung said, as she was still getting pounded as hard and fast as the 2 guys could, their cocks slamming in and out of her tight pussy and tight asshole, which were now stretched and loosened, allowing their dicks to slide in and out easily, but not any less pleasurable.

"You're such a good little whore for us, Wony. So good."

"Such a tight little body. So fuckable."

"Oh, yes...fuck yes...right there, guys. Don't stop. Give it to me harder."

Wony's eyes rolled up as she was being drilled from behind, her ass getting pounded by a massive cock, and her pussy getting fucked by a thick black cock.

"You guys are gonna make me cum again, soon."

"So fucking tight. Fuck, girl. You're squeezing my dick so hard, it's gonna be difficult for me not to cum inside you." The guy fucking her pussy said.

"I don't care. Fuck me however you want, but that load is ending on my face."

"Alright, Wony. Damn...such a spoiled little brat, aren't you?"

"Yes. I always get what I want, and right now, what I want is for you to keep fucking me until I cum, and then for you to cum on my face. Are we understood?" Wony asked, looking right into his eyes, with a very threatening look on her face. At least, the best one her cute, perfect face could make.

"Loud and clear, Wony. Now shut up and start bouncing on this cock." He replied, with a smirk on his face, as Wonyoung did exactly that, and started riding the guy, with the other still fucking her tight little ass. As her hands were free, she reached for the two cocks on either side of her and started jerking them off. She kept going at a fast pace, making sure their cocks were nice and ready for when their turn came to shoot their loads on her face.

Suddenly, the guy fucking her pussy started pinching her nipples, and before she could even react to it, she felt a hard cock slapping her across the face.

"Mmmmmm, oh my god, yes. Slap me, daddy. Hit me with your big fat black cock." She said, as he did just that, hitting her over and over again with his hard dick.

"You're not slapping me hard enough, daddy. Give it to me hard. Show me what a filthy fucking slut I am."

"Hit me like the naughty whore I am." Wony begged, before opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out, just as the guy's cock hit her in the face once more.

"Oh, shit...that's it. Right there, daddy. That's how you slap a bitch. Give it to me again. Hit me harder."

Wony's cheek stung after being hit, but that only made her hornier. The guy in front of her slapped her with his cock another couple of times, before he grabbed her chin and shoved his dick past her lips. Wonyoung was still being drilled from behind, whilst she was now choking on the guy's cock, as he was fucking her throat at a fast pace.

She had never done anything remotely close to what she was currently doing. It was the most intense and crazy thing she had ever done. The fact that she was letting herself be used and dominated by 5 big black guys, and letting them use her body as their personal sex doll, was not only turning her on, but making her feel more confident than ever. The way they were calling her names and degrading her was driving her wild, and she could feel herself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, with their huge dicks going in and out of her body.

It was too much pleasure to handle all at the same time for Wonyoung, and so she closed her eyes, and let herself go, cumming on the guys' dicks for the second time that night.

"Ah, she's cumming on my dick. I can feel her pussy clenching around my cock."

"That's it, Wony...keep cumming for us, baby."

"She's not the only one. Fuck, I'm close." The guy with fucking her mouth said, as he released the grip he had on her head, and started furiously stroking his cock right in front of her face.

"Oh fuck...daddy, yessss. Give me your cum."

"Paint my face, please!!!"

"Cum all over my face, daddy."

"Fuckkk, take it, Wony. Take all my fucking cum." He said, as Wonyoung stuck her tongue out, and felt multiple ropes of cum land across her face.

"Ahhhhh, yessss. Keep cumming on my face." Wony said, he shot the last droplets of cum towards her face, with the majority landing on her tongue.

"So fucking good...I love it. I want more of your delicious cum on my face, though."

"We will all give it to you, slut. You don't have to worry about it." The guy who had just cum all over her face said, before grabbing both of her hands, and pulling her off the dicks that were inside her holes.

"Damn, look at that gape. Come take a look at this." One guy said, appreciating the work he had done on Wony's ass.

"Now that's a nice little asshole. So wide open. Good job, man. I also did a great number on her pussy."

The guy put Wonyoung on her knees in front of him and the 2 guys that were already jerking off, and they were shortly joined by the 2 guys that had just fucked Wony's tight holes, as these 2 began stroking their shafts.

"Hmmm, keep stroking those big black cocks, boys." Wony said, looking towards the 5 of them, with a huge smile on her face, and her eyes rolling back, thanks to the feeling of having cum dripping down her gorgeous face.

"1 down, 4 to go, Wony. Whose cum do you want next?"

"Does it matter? I'm gonna end up taking all 5 loads on my face either way, so just come here and shoot your cum on my face, and make my pretty little face even prettier."

"Oh fuck, Wony...you're such a fucking cumslut for us, aren't you?" One of them said, stepping closer to Wonyoung, as he kept stroking his cock.

"Hmmmmm, yes. A cumslut for big black cocks and loads."

"Stroke that cock faster, daddy. Stroke it until you cum all over my face."

"Beg for it, Wonyoung. Beg for my fucking cum."

"Please, daddy. Give me your cum. Please cum on my pretty little face, daddy."

"Shoot your cum all over my face. I need it so badly!"

"I want to be drenched in all of daddy's cum."

"Fuck, Wony. Stop talking, and open your mouth." He said, as he grabbed Wony's head, and pulled her in, before pushing his cock down her throat and fucking her mouth for a good amount of time.

Wonyoung gagged on his cock, before he pulled it out, only to start jerking himself off once more, right in front of her face.

"You like being a good little whore for us, huh? You liked having us pass you around and use you as a fucktoy, didn't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I loved being used like a cumslut by you. By all of you."

"Wony....fuck, I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna fucking cum...oh, fuck, I'm cumming!!!" He said, just before he started shooting his cum all over Wonyoung's face, covering her skin with white streaks of his thick load.

"Thank you, daddy. Mmmm, that feels so good. I love being covered in your warm cum."

"So fucking sexy." The guy said, as he was now slowly stroking his cock, with the tip barely touching Wonyoung's face, the excess amount of cum slowly falling out of his dick, and on Wonyoung's lips and chin.

"C'mon...who's next? Who's painting my face with their delicious cum next?"

"Me, bitch. I'm so fucking close, slut." One guy said, as he stepped closer and started jerking off his hard cock right in front of her, as the other 2 were doing the same.

"C'mon...cum on my face, daddy. Let me have your cum, please."

"I need the cum that comes out of that big black cock all over my pretty little face, daddy."

"I want to be covered in cum!!!" Wony begged, before she quickly opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, after she saw the first ropes of cum flying towards her face, catching her by surprise.

"Take my fucking cum, you cumslut."

"Yes, daddy. Keep cumming all over my face." Wony said, closing her eyes as the cum kept flying towards her, landing on her lips and mouth, some even hitting her eyelids, nose and forehead.

Wonyoung was almost completely covered in cum at this point, with only several small spots left to be filled. She grabbed the last 2 remaining cocks and started stroking them off as fast as she could.

"I'm so close, baby. Fuckkkk, keep going, Wony."

"Stroke those cocks for us, Wony."

"I'm gonna stroke them so well, until they explode all over me."

"You're doing such a great job, Wony."

"Thank you, daddy. I'm gonna milk these cocks dry, and make them cum all over me."

"Do it, baby. Please."

"I wanna see your cute face covered in my cum, baby."

"Yes, please. Cum all over my face, daddy."

"Fuck me, I can't hold it anymore. Close your eyes, Wonyoung. I'm gonna cum."

"Yesssssssssss, shower me with your warm cum!!!" She said, feeling the first few droplets of cum falling on her face, as the guy kept shooting his load all over her face, giving her multiple layers of cum. Wonyoung had so much cum on her face, that it was mostly dripping down her chin and falling on her tits and stomach.

"Oh, fuck me. That feels so good, daddy. I love it."

"Thank you, daddy. Your cum is so warm and sticky. It feels so good on my skin."

"Your welcome, slut." He said, slapping his cock on her tongue, before walking backwards a bit, leaving Wonyoung alone with the last guy.

"Well, well, well...looks like it's just the two of us..."

"You look so pretty with our cum all over you."

"Thanks, daddy. Now I think I deserve another taste of this thick black cock." She said, wrapping her lips around the tip of his dick and sucking on it, while both her hands were working the rest of his long shaft.

"Mmmmmm, you guys are all so big. And you taste so good. I bet I could suck you guys for hours, without getting bored."

"Yeah? I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Hmmmmm, yeah...I would even let you cum inside me."

"You're so fucking sexy, Wony. Such a fucking slut."

"Yes, I'm a slut. Your personal little cumdumpster." Wony replied, as she started rubbing her clit with her left hand.

"You like watching me finger my pussy whilst I jerk your big black cock, daddy?"

"Yes, Wony. I love it."

"Then give me your warm, delicious cum."

"Give it to me, daddy. Spray that thick white cum all over me."

"I've been such a good slut for you guys...I deserve one final big load of cum all over my face."

"Fuckkk me, Wony...I'm gonna cum soon. Keep going, girl." He said, as he took his cock of her hand and aimed his cock directly in front of her face, just before he started stroking his shaft, his hand moving incredibly fast, trying to reach his orgasm as quickly as possible.

"Yes, daddy. Keep jerking your big cock and cum for me. I want it, please."

"Stroke it faster, daddy."

"I love watching you stroke your big cock back and forth for me."

"Paint my face, daddy."

"I want to be covered in your cum."

"Don't you want to cum all over my face? I know you want to..."

"Keep stroking that hard cock for me, daddy."

"C'mon daddy. Cum for me. Give me your cum. Make me your cumslut." Wonyoung said, as she saw the guy's legs twitching and his knees weakening.

"Fuuuuckkk, Wony...here it comes...I'm cumming!!!" He said, just as Wonyoung opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, hoping she would be able to catch at least a few drops of cum, before he began shooting multiple ropes of cum all over her, giving Wonyoung the thickest load she had received so far, making sure to cover any spots on her face that hadn't already been covered.

"Oh god...fuck...thank you, daddy. Mmmmm, so yummy. I love having all of your delicious cum on my face."

Wonyoung's face was a complete mess. She had, easily, two or three layers of cum, coating her entire face, and she absolutely loved it. Her hair was all messed up, and the room reeked of sex.

Wonyoung licked her cum covered lips and tasted the cum that guys' had shot on her mouth, before she brought her hands towards her face and wiped off the cum that was on her eyelids and nose, licking her fingers and moaning at the taste of the thick cum, before she got back on her feet.

"Well...thank you guys. This was so much fun."

"Yeah? Did you enjoy it?" One of them asked, knowing full well what her answer was going to be.

"Are you kidding me? Of course, I enjoyed it. You have no idea how badly I needed this tonight."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it, because we enjoyed it too. It's not often that you get the chance to fuck one of the hottest girls in the K-pop industry."

"The...THE hottest girl in the K-pop industry." Wonyoung corrected him, before scooping some more cum off her face and swallowing it.

"Well...we have to go now. The shower is right down the hallway, to the left."

"Is there anything else you need before we go?"

"Yes. Could you guys give me your contacts? I really want to do this again next time I'm in town."

"Sure. Of course, you can." One of them said, writing his number on a piece of paper and handing it to her.

"Thank you."

"We will leave you to it. See you soon, hopefully."

"Bye, guys."

"See ya, Wony."

They all walked out the door and left the room, leaving Wonyoung alone. She sat down, with her back against the bed, reflecting on everything that had happened tonight, from being annoyed by Steven's wimpy behaviour, to being passed around 5 black guys, and getting her holes destroyed by their big black cocks.

It was the first time Wonyoung had ever done something as crazy as this, and she couldn't wait for the next time she would be able to do it. Eventually, she made her way towards the shower, making sure nobody saw her through the hallway.

After cleaning herself, and washing off all the cum that was left on her skin, she got dressed and made her way outside, calling an Uber. Once she was back at the hotel room where she was staying, she was met by all 5 of her bandmates.

"Wonyoung.....where were you, girl??? We were all worried about you. We tried calling you time and time again, but you just didn't pick up the phone. What happened?" Yujin asked.

"Oh, nothing...I was just exploring the city with Steven, and lost track of the time."

"Gosh, girl...you could've said something, though." Gaeul said.

"I'm sorry. You're right."

"So...did you and Steven finally get laid?" Leeseo asked, and Wonyoung was unable to hide her smile.

"Oh, if only they knew..." She thought to herself.

"Look girls...I appreciate your concern over me, but I'm here now, and I'm way too tired to talk right now, so goodnight." Wonyoung said, as she made her way towards her bed and laid down, falling asleep almost immediately.

[mangooes]

The Cat-tastrophe, A runaway kitten

This is the part 2 of the Cat-tastrophe series! Soo i deff recommend for you to read the first part before continuing on this~!

Part 1!

Sylus had spent hours tracking his runaway wife.

If anyone had told him years ago that he would one day be scouring the city for his wife—who had turned into a tiny, sassy cat—he would have laughed in their face. And yet, here he was, standing beneath the moonlit branches of a large, old tree, crimson eyes glinting in amusement as he finally found her.

Perched lazily on a thick tree branch, her tail flicking with leisure, was his beloved (Name)—fluffy, tiny, and incredibly smug wife.

Mephisto had been the one to track her down, the mechanical bird circling above before landing on Sylus’s shoulder with a mechanical whir. "Target located," the bird reported, tilting its head toward the tree.

Sylus sighed, but a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Of course, she ran here."

Tipping his head back to look up at the massive oak tree standing tall in the quiet park. The very same tree where years ago, beneath the glow of the streetlamps, he had first confessed to his stubborn wife. The night she had stormed off in anger, demanding answers, before he had finally told her the truth— as his feelings laid bare infront of the woman he loves.

And in the end, he had sealed it with a kiss, holding her close right beneath this tree’s branches.

Now?

Now, that same woman—his fierce, untamable wife—was curled up on a high branch, in the form of a fluffy, sassy cat. Lounging as if she hadn’t just given him a headache by running off.

Sylus let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head.

"Sweetie," Sylus drawled, tilting his head up at the feline sprawled out in the tree. "I’ve been looking for you everywhere."

"Of all places, you ran here? I'm touched, kitten." He smirked, the nostalgic warmth filling his chest. "Guess that night meant something to you too, hmm?"

From her perch, Cat-(Name) flicked her tail at him, utterly unbothered. Deliberately turned away from him, stretching her tiny paws like she had all the time in the world. Her eyes blinked lazily as if saying: Yes, and?

Sylus exhaled, amused but exasperated. "Alright, kitten. You’ve had your fun. Come down now."

She simply stretched, her tiny paws reaching forward, then curled back into her spot, smugly ignoring him.

He arched a brow. "Playing hard to get again? Just like back then?"

His wife-the-cat let out a small huff, which only made his grin widen.

"Fine," he murmured. "If you won’t come down, I’ll just bring you down myself."

With a flick of his wrist, black and red mist curled around his fingers, twisting upwards. His Evol—his energy manipulation—snaked toward the tree branch, forming into gentle, smoke-like tendrils. Before she could react, the tendrils coiled under her small form, lifting her up smoothly, weightless in the air.

Her eyes widened in surprise, she immediately started wiggling as she let out an indignant little meow!

"Ah ah ah—no running now, kitten." Sylus smirked. "What’s wrong? Didn’t think I’d fetch you myself?"

She squirmed, clearly protesting her capture, but Sylus was already reaching out, plucking her from the air and securing her against his chest.

“Caught you,” he murmured, smugly.

Cat-(Name) huffed, ears flattening, but didn’t fight him when he wrapped his dark jacket around her small body, tucking her in snugly against the warmth of his chest.

"See? Now isn’t this much better?" Sylus murmured as he held her close, nuzzling his wife's soft feline fur, feeling her tiny heartbeat against his palm.

"You always run," he murmured, stroking a finger under her chin. "But you never get away from me, sweetie."

He took one last glance at the tree before turning on his heel, heading back towards his parked bike.

"Now, Let's go home shall we?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment they stepped inside, the warmth of their home welcomed them. Sylus barely made it past the living room before he noticed the small, soft weight in his arms getting heavier.

He smirked, looking down at the tiny cat in his jacket.

Her breathing had slowed, her small paws tucked under her chin.

“Already getting sleepy?” he murmured, his voice softer now.

She let out a slow, relaxed sigh, nestling deeper into his chest.

Sylus exhaled, his grip tightening protectively around her as he carried her straight to their bedroom.

By the time he made it into the hallway, Luke and Kieran appeared at the end of it.

"Boss!" Luke panted, holding up a small glass vial with a shimmering liquid inside. "We found it—the antidote!"

“The antidote,” Kieran added. “Should bring her back to normal.”

Luke grinned, elbowing his twin beside him. "Aren’t you gonna thank us, Boss? We did find the cure to turn the missus back into a non-furry version of herself."

Kieran standing beside, shot him a look.

Sylus took the vial, rolling it between his fingers as he glanced at the tiny, peacefully sleeping cat curled up in his arms. His red eyes softened.

Then he cast them a slow, unimpressed look.

"Am I thanking you?" he said in a dangerously soft tone. "You two were the ones who let her escape in the first place."

Luke and Kieran went rigid.

"Uh—technically, she outsmarted us—"

"Lucky," Sylus interrupted, his voice dark, "that I haven’t told you to run laps all night for failing to keep my wife in check."

The twins shut their mouths immediately, and make a run for it.

Returning to the bedroom, he carefully opened the door, and laid her down to their shared bed gently, as he sat down beside her.

Sylus carefully coaxed Cat-(Name) onto his lap, stroking her soft fur as he gently held the vial to her lips.

"Come on, sweetie," he murmured, voice laced with quiet patience. "Drink up for me."

(Name), still drowsy, instinctively let out a small drowsy meow in protest.

Then his lips curled upwards, teasing, playfull.

"You don't want to stay as a cat forever, don't you sweetie? Not that i mind keeping you like this forever."

Her ears straightened, as she licked at the liquid before huffing and curling up again, letting out a tiny yawn. Sylus smirked, smitten, enchanted by his wife's adorable antics, shaking his head as he set the now-empty vial aside.

"Good girl," he murmured fondly.

Lying back against the pillows, he pulled her close against his chest, his arms circling around her small frame. Sylus rarely slept at night—his business ran in the darkness, and sleep had always been secondary to him.

But tonight?

Tonight, he decided he could take the night off.

Holding his wife—cat or not—was far more important.

After all, the N109 Zone could definitely manage without his presence for just one night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sylus felt warmth.

A very familiar warmth.

Slowly, his crimson eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the morning light that peeked through the curtains.

And there she was.

When he finally adjusted his crimson gaze, he was met with the sight of her.

(Name), back in her human form, lying in his arms, her breathing slow and even as she slept.

His gaze softened.

Reaching up, Sylus gently brushed a few messy strands of curls from her face. Her features were peaceful, relaxed—so utterly beautiful that something in his chest clenched.

Completely unaware of how deeply she had him wrapped around her little finger.

His wife. His home. His (Name). His everything.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, careful not to wake her.

"Welcome back, my naughty runaway kitten," he whispered against her skin.

Then, with a quiet chuckle, he tightened his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer, as if making sure she was really there.

"You’re never running from me again, sweetie," he murmured, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile.

He wasn’t letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

Yo! I finished part 2 and i am satisfied with how this played out <3 I couldnt put the other lis as cameo here since i dont wanna mix up the story lines and such and i couldnt think of a scenario to put them in- so here have Sylus with his cat wife back to normal <3

[its-luna-noel]

puppy chronicles

03. the playful puppy | nanami x reader

The JJK men are gifted a hybrid puppy. ...wait, that kind of puppy? alpha!human!jjk men x omega!hybrid!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, hybrid!au, omegaverse, hybrid!reader, omega!reader, pet play, collars/leashes, smut, heat/rut, knots, oral (f! receiving)

word count: 4.3k next: the innocent puppy | choso x reader

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there! here's nanami's puppy chronicle, i hope you enjoy! had a lot of fun writing this one, he's got such a good dynamic.

When Kento was told he was getting a Christmas bonus this year, he was not expecting to receive an untrained hybrid puppy instead of an extra check.

You tug at the leash his boss’s secretary has you on, nearly knocking her over as you whine and whimper, tail wagging excitedly behind you while you try to catch his scent. Your sheer black slip rides up your hips, revealing matching black panties that accentuate the plush curve of your ass. The flesh around your hips and thighs jiggles gently with every animated lash of your tail.

Kento has to clear his throat and adjust the tie at his neck, suddenly feeling far too warm in his suit.

“Uh, sir–” he tries to say, because he wasn’t expecting to go home with a puppy today.

His boss cuts him off with a grin and a hearty laugh. “Just take her, Nanami! She’s from one of the best breeders in town; I’m sure she’ll make a perfect pet, once she’s trained.” He winks.

So Kento takes the leash from the secretary, pretending his hand isn’t shaking.

He takes you home, keeping you on a short leash to keep you by his side as he unlocks his front door and allows you in. He unclips the leash from your thick leather collar, and you’re darting away, ignoring the calls of your name while you giggle and explore.

He pinches the bridge of his nose while he watches you prance around his living room, exploring all of his decorations, his collection of books, his shelf of records. Your furry tail whips side to side, and your ass wiggles while it wags because you just can’t contain your excitement; you have a home! You’ve always wanted one of those, especially with a handsome, kind owner. He’s got pretty blond hair and warm hazel eyes, and he smells good, too, like a true alpha. You smell him on the air and bound over to him, rubbing up on him affectionately.

“Mr. Nanami!” you cry happily, tail still beating back and forth. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He sighs softly, and his drawn expression relaxes a little as he looks down at you, watching you rub your face against his shoulder. “Call me Kento,” he tells you, reaching up to pet your fluffy, floppy ears.

You hum happily and tap your foot animatedly, making him chuckle. Then, when he pulls away, you bound away, jumping up and down excitedly. “Do you have any toys? Or games? What about a ball; I’m really good at fetch! Or tug-of-war, I’m good at that too!”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have any toys, puppy. I wasn’t exactly expecting to bring you home today.”

Your tail drops, and a small pout forms on your lips. Then you brighten up. “That’s okay! We can go get some! Can we go shopping, Mr. Kento? For toys?”

“Just Kento,” he emphasizes gently. “Will you be a good girl if I take you out?”

You grin up at him, bounding towards the front door. “I’ll be good! Oh, please please please!”

So he lets out another soft sigh before gently patting your side, gesturing for you to move away from him. “Let’s get you changed first.”

“Oh, but why? I don’t wanna wait!”

He gives you a stern look. “Because I don’t want other alphas staring at you while we’re out. The walk here was hard enough.”

You smile up at him, tail wagging. It makes you feel good that he wants to keep you for himself, that he’s already possessive over you. It makes you feel like you’re wanted, desired. “Okay!” you chirp, turning and happily skipping towards the master bedroom.

He shakes his head after you, following you. “On the left,” he calls ahead as you sniff at different doors, trying to find the bedroom.

You walk inside, and you’re suddenly overcome by the overpowering scent of him. It’s everywhere, heady in its intensity, drowning you in musk as you, without permission, crawl up onto the bed and curl up right in the center.

Kento walks in and raises an eyebrow when he sees you. “That’s mine,” he says.

You smile, tail thumping softly against the sheets. “Smells like you,” is all you say in reply.

He lets out another sigh before coming over and sitting on the end of the bed. He reaches over a hand and lightly pets your ears, and your foot taps repeatedly against the mattress.. “Let me find you some real clothes to wear, alright?”

You nod happily, bumping your nose against his palm affectionately. He smiles a little and stands.

He searches through his dressers for something you can wear, something more appropriate than the sheer, unsupported slip you were presented to him in. He finds you one of his sweaters and a pair of joggers that might fit you.

You stay curled up on his bed, watching him move around the bedroom with ease.

He’s attractive, you notice again. Almost devastatingly so. With cheekbones so sharp you’re sure you’d cut your fingers on them and those gentle eyes, it makes you want to whine and whimper until he comes over and ravishes you in his bed. But the idea of going on a walk with him is even more tempting, so you sit perfectly still in bed while he brings you clothes, setting them on the bed beside you.

“Get dressed,” he tells you.

You grin up at him and crawl towards him, sniffing at his neck. “You’re supposed to dress me! I’m your puppy now.”

His cheeks burn pink, and you coo at the adorable sight, lapping at his neck and cheeks. He puts his hands on your shoulders to gently push you away. “Stop that. You’re perfectly capable of dressing yourself.”

You whine, high-pitched and pathetic. “But Kento,” you say, and the sound of his name on your sweet lips is enough to make him blush a deeper shade of red, “I want you to do it.”

So he, cheeks still brightly flushed, reaches down towards your thighs, grabbing the bottom of your sheer slip, and starts pulling it up your legs.

Your tail wags animatedly at the feeling of his knuckles brushing your skin.

He pulls the slip up, up, up, until your body is fully revealed to him besides the lacy panties you still wear. Your tits hang perfectly on your chest, and he fights to swallow, averting his gaze before he starts imagining what it would be like to lower his mouth to them and suck, to run his tongue over your heated skin.

He clears his throat and grabs the sweater he brought for you, practically shoving it onto your body.

You whine again at his brusque behavior, ears pinned back, though if it’s in annoyance or hurt he’s not sure. So because he can’t tell, he softens his movements a little, gently helping you to stand at the side of the bed so you can step into the legs of his joggers.

Once they’re up around your hips, he practically sighs in relief. You’re much less of a temptation now that you’re not dressed in see-through lingerie. He reaches up, fingers gently trailing the leather collar at your throat. “Want this off, too?” he asks.

Immediately, you whimper, pulling back to look at him with pleading eyes. Your tail drops between your legs, and you shake your head repeatedly, backing up against the mattress. “No, don’t take it away!”

“Shh,” he whispers, caught off guard by your vehement response. “It’s okay, I won’t take it if you don’t want me to. I was just asking.”

Slowly, you relax. Then, once he offers a soft twitch of his lips towards what you think is a smile, you sniffle and prance forward. “Walk?” you ask.

He can’t help himself; he chuckles. “Yes, let’s go before the shops close.” He leads you towards the front door, and before you walk out the door into the brisk evening air, he clips your leash at your throat.

You hum, leaning your cheek into his hand before he pulls away. Then he opens the door and leads you outside.

He huffs when you bolt out the door, tail wagging wildly once more as you tug on the leash, going up to everything and everyone you see to investigate.

More than a few people stare at the misbehaving puppy.

Kento hisses your name under his breath, giving the leash a sharp tug – not enough to hurt you, but enough to make his displeasure known. Your ears pin back slightly, and you come to a stop, turning and looking back at him with a chastised expression.

He walks over, tightening his hold on the leash. “You said you’d be good.”

You hang your head, and he can’t tell if you’re being dramatic or if you’re actually taking in his soft reprimand. “Sorry.”

He sighs and pats your head, trying to raise your spirits once more. He already doesn’t like seeing you sad. “Come on,” he encourages, giving your ears a gentle rub. “Just try to stay by me, okay? I don’t like when you pull on the leash.”

You nod, seeming to take his instructions seriously. And when you start walking again, you stay at heel, simply gazing around at the sky, the neighborhood, the walking neighbors.

Living in an affluent area, there are a few other hybrids around, some on leashes and some off. They turn to look at you curiously, their ears forward and tails swishing as they realize a new puppy has joined the neighborhood.

Some who pass close enough stop to scent you, and when you scent them back, Kento has to try to not feel jealous. It’s only natural for you to be curious.

But he’s already starting to feel possessive of the little omega he was gifted only this afternoon.

He walks you to the nearby shops, where he buys you things you need like clothes and toiletries. Then, your last stop for the night, he leads you into one of the hybrid accessory shops to buy you toys as a reward for behaving. With bags in hand, he leads you back home, giving you slack on the leash as you continue to walk beside him without complaint.

When you get home and he unclips the leash from your collar, he gently squeezes your chin between thumb and forefinger. His eyes are even softer than they were before, and you gaze up at him, thinking he might just take you and kiss you senseless.

Instead he asks, “Would you rather sleep in my room or the guest room?”

Your heart aches to be away from him. “Can I sleep in your room?”

He nods and helps you take the bags up to his room, helping you unpack all your new things. Once he’s done, he turns with a smile and tosses a tennis ball – new and bright green and fragrant – down the hall.

You bound after it, laughter pealing off the walls. He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head after you. He wasn’t excited to have an energetic pup like you when he first walked you home, but now he’s sure you both will enjoy the company.

Besides, this just gives him the chance to learn exactly what tires you out.

~

When your heat comes, you’re nearly insufferable.

Rubbing your ass up on him, stretching and arching in bed just to tempt him into taking you – even just the sweet scent of your heat nearly drives him crazy. He’s trying to be respectful, trying to treat you kindly, but you’re making him want to just pin you down and mount you, to mate you like an animal. 

He fights it for as long as he can, but he can only do so much when you’re just begging to be taken.

He comes home that day from work to find you nesting in bed, curled up in blankets and whimpering like it hurts, because it does. Every moment that the alpha – your alpha – won’t claim you is another spent in agonizing heat, and no amount of touching or fingering or cumming can fix it without his knot.

You try to tell him as such. You whimper, “Kento.”

“I know it hurts, sweet girl,” he says, voice hushed as he’s hit with the thick, cloying scent of you. “But I don’t want to take advantage of you; I don’t–”

“It’s not taking advantage of me,” you whine, ears flat against your skull as you rise up on your hands and knees and arch, wagging your ass back and forth. You can hear his sharp intake of breath as you show off your wet, darkened underwear, nearly translucent with slick and arousal. “Please!”

He grits his teeth, trying to fight it. But he can’t rip his eyes away from the sight of your barely clothed cunt, your puffy lips poking out from either side of the fabric. You’re so wet he’s pretty sure he could lean in and drink it from you, and yet he holds himself back, he hesitates, all because he doesn’t want to hurt you…

But with one last circular movement of your hips, he can’t help himself. He has to feast on you. Has to devour you.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh there, and he yanks you backwards towards the edge of the bed. You yelp in surprise, but you just bury your face into the duvet and grind your hips back, the thin fabric of your underwear catching on the buckle of his belt.

He lets out a muffled groan, fingers squeezing your hips. “Sweet girl.” He’s already panting.

He falls to his knees at the end of the bed, spreading your thighs so he can get a better look at your dripping pussy. You angle your hips into an even deeper arch, and he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side, taking a good, long look at the meal he’s about to have.

Then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your pussy from the back, tasting you for the first time.

He groans loudly, and your hips jolt, the vibrations from his voice sending pleasure tingling through your body. “Taste so sweet, darling girl,” he mumbles into your cunt, and then he licks another long line from your clit up to your pussy, tongue swirling there before diving in, making you cry out loudly at the sensation.

All he’s doing is building the heat higher, higher, higher.

“Kento,” you whimper, legs trembling already at the stimulation. He just wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you forward until your ass is dangling over the end of the bed, giving him a prime angle to eat out your drooling cunt. “Kento!”

He doesn’t stop. He just wraps his arms tighter and commands, “Say it again.”

But you don’t, because you’ve always been a playful little girl, and you like having the power over him. And so he pulls back, panting, hot breath fanning against the back of your thighs as he tries again. “Say my name, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, wiggling your ass in his face, tantalizingly close. “Not till you fuck me.”

He growls, a low, rumbling noise deep in his chest. “You’re being a little brat, huh? I know the best way to get you to stop that, though, don’t I?”

You shake your head, not understanding. You’re not a brat, you just like to play with him. Like when he finally smiles, when he finally lets his guard down enough for you to see the real, soft him, the one who laughs while playing with you and pets your hair like a good alpha.

But he knows the truth; you are a brat, and he knows he loves it.

He tightens his grip on your hips and continues, “Yeah, I know the best way.

“I just have to tire you out.”

You yelp again when he dives back into your pussy, nose nearly breaching your entrance as he licks at your clit with feverish intensity. You try to tug away, just wanting his dick! But he doesn’t let you go; he just wraps his arms tighter around you, beefy biceps pushing against your plush thighs. He laps at your clit repeatedly, finding the exact right angle that makes you moan the loudest and stays there, bringing you crashing towards your orgasm in an embarrassing amount of time. Your cheeks are burning as he makes you cum almost immediately, your thighs tightening and pussy throbbing against the tip of his nose as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

He doesn’t even stop for a moment to let you breathe before he’s forcing you towards a second one.

“Wait!” you cry, reaching back to push at his head, trying to detach him from your cunt. “Wait, I’m sorry!”

“Mm, don’t be sorry, sweet girl. I should be sorry for not tiring you out properly, especially when you’re just in heat and don’t know any better. Can’t know any better, right? You’re just a little puppy who needs to be taken care of.” And he redoubles his efforts against your clit.

You cry out again, hips bucking under his tongue. “Please, Kento!”

“Mm,” he hums against your clit, following your every movement so that he can make you cum properly – that is, over and over and over again. “What, sweetheart?”

You whimper, “Too much.”

“Aw, honey, it’s okay.” He reaches up with one hand and takes yours, which is currently gripping the duvet with white-knuckled intensity. “Just hold onto me.”

So you move your fingers to wrap around his, and it helps keep you grounded as he entirely ruins you.

He makes you cum a second time before he even moves. He takes a moment to catch his breath, working his jaw to relax the sore muscles before bringing the hand that’s not holding yours down to rub your ass. He palms the flesh there for a moment, letting you take a breather. He doesn’t start back up until your breath has started to slow.

Then he moves his hand, and two long, thick fingers push slowly into your pussy, stretching it open for him.

You whine and moan, hips bucking against his palm, but he doesn’t change his pace as he just slowly sinks into the heat of you, your dripping arousal more than enough lubrication for him to comfortably fit his fingers inside.

Then he pulls back and starts to slowly fingerfuck you.

You moan, hips continuing to try and pull away from his touch, instinctually running away from the overstimulation. But he doesn’t let you run; he keeps you pinned there as he resumes his perfect motions, licking your clit once more as he slowly pushes his fingers inside you.

You have no idea how one person’s mouth can be this good. He’s tearing you apart and putting you back together, and all you can do is enjoy it, even as you continue to pout, because you just want him to fuck you.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers against your cunt, “I need to get you ready first.”

And that makes the heat burn even hotter, to know that he is planning on fucking you. You suppose you can wait.

And he makes you wait, until you’re a drooling, panting, crying mess against the bed.

Your legs can’t even hold you up anymore; it’s all Kento as you lean into his strong hands, letting him position you where he wants you. The lower half of his face is covered in slick, and all he does as he finally pulls away from your cunt is wipe it away with the back of his hand and lick it clean.

Oh, it’s a divine sight.

Kento rearranges your limbs on the bed, climbing up behind you until you’re propped up on your knees again, legs wobbly from how many mind-shattering orgasms he’s already given you. He pushes you down into the mattress, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair, as he rises up onto his knees behind you, pressing his clothed erection against your quivering, needy pussy. It’s practically slobbering on him, smearing slick over the front of his pants, but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s rubbing himself on you, grinding his dick against your swollen lips.

Then he brings his hands down and slowly unbuckles his belt, unhurried. You can’t believe the amount of patience this man has.

He drops the leather to the side, and then he’s unbuttoning his pants, lowering the zipper until the only confines trapping the thick print of his cock are his dark boxer briefs. He pushes his pants down towards his knees and kicks them off, and then he repeats the process from the beginning, grinding his dick against you before finally pushing down his underwear, too.

Leaving him bare behind you.

You can feel how hot he’s running, can feel how big he is right up against your pussy. He slathers slick along the head, gathering your arousal as lubricant before he presses up against your cunt. “Are you ready?” he asks, ever the gentleman.

You just moan in response, right into the mattress. It’s all you can muster.

He smirks a little; he can’t fight it. Seeing you fucked drunk with just his mouth is a sight he’s proud of, and he takes it in as he slowly pushes inside of you, letting you feel every inch and every ridge of his veiny length.

You moan, face pressed into the duvet as you’re nearly drooling at the sensation of his thick, perfect dick stretching you open. You’re practically choking on it; you think you can feel him all the way in your chest.

Finally, he bottoms out, and he pauses, letting you both take another breather. His shoulders are rising and falling a little faster than before, and it makes you happy to know that you affect him just as much as he ruins you.

Then he starts to pull his hips back, fucking you slowly, tenderly. But that’s not how you want it.

You grind your hips back against his, and he makes a choking sound, grabbing your waist to stop your movements. “Knock it off,” he strains through gritted teeth.

You don’t. “Or what?” you tease, turning your head to look back at him.

God, you look ruined. This is the first time he can see your face clearly since he started, and you’re flushed, sweaty, eyes hazy and cock-drunk with only a couple thrusts. Your tongue lolls out at the corner to catch a drop of drool.

He grips you harder. “Sweet girl,” he says, voice tight with restraint, “I can only do so much. I can only control myself to a certain point. You can’t keep taunting me, or I’ll lose it.”

“So lose it,” you say, like it’s that simple.

He snarls and snaps his hips forward, and your back bows into a delicious arch, a loud cry falling from your lips. His blond hair is a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat as he pulls back. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

All you know is the aching stretch of his cock, and the promise of more when you take his knot.

So you knock your hips back again. Toying with him. “Please.”

And, well, who is he to deny your wishes when you ask so pretty?

He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the mattress, pining you into a mean arch as he pummels into your swollen pussy, feeling how gummy and tight your walls are as they convulse around him every time he hits your cervix. You’re hardly even moaning anymore; you’re just whining and crying out, loud ah ah ah!s echoing in his bedroom as he fucks you like you wanted.

Like the brat you are.

He grunts, the slaps of his hips meeting yours just as lewd as the sounds coming from your lips. And it just turns him on more, how fucking filthy it all is, the wet squelching of his cock ramming into your pussy, the sweat and slick and drool that’s ruining his sheets.

He can’t help but think that maybe he is nothing more than an animal.

With that thought, he leans down, brushing his lips against your neck. His canines scrape the skin right where your scent glands emit such delicious pheromones. “Sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss there to soothe the red welts his teeth leave, “be mine.”

You just moan, eyes rolling back as he continues to fuck you. He takes that as a yes.

He bites, teeth sinking into the buttery flesh there and breaking skin. He holds on while he fucks into you, and he feels the base of his cock swelling, just a couple more moments and he’ll make you his, oh fuck–!

With one more heavy shove, he forces you to take his knot, leaving you mewling in aching, agonizing pleasure. And then he cums, filling you with rope after pearly rope of his semen, plugging you full of his puppies.

His chest heaves with every breath, and you feel his muscular torso against your back as he slowly sinks down on top of you, his body caging yours in. And he presses soft kisses to the side of your neck, right over his mating mark, trying to soothe you as you come down from the overwhelming experience.

He tries to shift, but that just makes his knot tug at you enough to make you yelp and cry out. So he stays on top of you like that, kissing it all better.

“My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your neck, trailing kisses up to your ear, where he whispers, “my little puppy.”

And oh, at those words, you think you’re in love.

thanks for reading! -luna link to ao3 | next: the innocent puppy