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luvchaew · 2 months ago

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what are you wearing?

riding a sweaty sunghoon because he looked too good in tank tops and you almost took it personally.

“you really couldn't wait, could ya?” dom!sunghoon x horny!reader wc𓈒 1.1k — not proofread! ✴ fluff, unprotected sex (protect urself guys), riding, p in v, cursing, banter, praise & degradation kink, pet names (hoon, sweetheart, doll..), implied multiple rounds, mdi!

𝑚. 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

you were lying down on the couch, phone in one hand as you scrolled absent-mindedly through many different social medias, a blanket draped lazily around your lap and a cooking show passing on tv that you tried to pay attention to but soon gave up. even if some videos caught your attention, nothing really entertained you. sunghoon promised you he'd be home by 8:30 from gym, and it was already 8:46, wait, 8:47.

when the door opened up with a loud thud and not-so-careful steps approached, you wondered whether you'd pretend to be sleeping, or if you'd look like you were fully invested in the contestants baking pumpkin pies. he was in the living room sooner than you'd calculated, and he caught you mid changing position, fixing your hair unstoppably.

“oh, so you're finally ho-” you muttered pretending not to be embarrassed, but stopped mid sentence as he walked in: big ass grin, confident steps, bangs sticking to his head with sweat from the workout and a cap that covered half of his face. that alone would've finished you up in any situation, but yeah, there was more. black compression tank top, defining his abs and clinging to his chest like a second skin.

“what the fuck are you wearing?” was the only thing you asked after checking him out for a few seconds, careful not to let your jaw drop or something. he looked confused, clearly not expecting anything but an angry version of you. his eyes followed yours, trying to catch up on what you were referring to.

“why? is it bad?”

“not at all, that's the problem. i was supposed to be mad at you.”

“yeah, sorry for being late. i know i promised you i would be on time” he tried, but your mind wasn't there anymore. you weren't annoyed anymore. you were just with an unmistakable heat pooling on your stomach and your gaze followed his ab lines like a predator. the fact that he was late didn't matter whatsoever. not now.

“this is not what you should be worried about now, hoon”

“oh god. what have i done?”

“you wouldn't know. just come and fix it.”

sunghoon snapped. one second he was staring blankly at you, trying to follow your mind, and the other one he was dropping his bag, moving hurriedly to be all over you. his eyes darkened instantly, and you felt your stomach twist when you stood up from the couch and his sweaty, firm hands found your waist, pulling you closer. inch by inch pressed against his skin. air between you seeming almost shared.

“is this your definition of ‘fixing it’, sweetheart?”

you hummed, agreeing. “it did involve something like this”

he smirked, gaze dropping to your mouth. you were sure he'd try to postpone it, to edge you, but he started it, and now he'd have to cope. you leaned in, lifting your chin and tiptoeing to kiss him. and it was the type of kiss that had your mind spiraling, the ones that even the tip of your toes curled with the soft encounter of your lips followed by the mind-blowing passage of his tongue inside your mouth.

sure, he was a bit surprised by your sudden courage, he could give you this one, but it was nothing that would lead him to lose control. sunghoon always had a way to silently remember you that he was in charge, and right now? it was the way his grip on you tightened as he dropped to the couch, forcing you to sit on top of him, legs holding on to his waist for dear life.

you breathlessly gasped, startled, your fingers instantly hooking on the collar of his black tank top to keep you steady, grounded to his heat.

the touch of your tongues started off as soft, like a coordinated dance both of you were dancing, but it soon built up to something rougher, warmer, with desire dripping from your mouths.

but when he tilted his head slightly and bit your bottom — and already swollen — lip?

you completely lost it.

and worse, fully moaned into his mouth, the sound coming out of your throat strained, hoarse.

“oh doll, look at you, already turned on?” he darkly chuckled, breaking the kiss and lipping his own bottom lip now, as if trying to collect every single trail of yourself you could've let on him.

sunghoon didn't wait for your answer, and before you knew it, he leaned in to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbone, sliding your beige shirt to the side to give him more access to your skin.

he nibbled on your sensitive skin, leaving red marks behind like he was worshipping something sacred. his hands touched you almost everywhere, mostly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. you readily tilted your head, allowing him to do everything and panting softly as the cherry on top.

despite your whines, he was patient, taking his time to suck on your neck and sliding to your shoulder with caution. when the fabric started to get on his way, his long fingers found the hem of your shirt as he gently took it off.

his gaze dropped on you as if he was food deprived, flying pecks returning to flood your skin and leave your head dazed. when you whimpered again, he finally gave in, quickly unbuttoning your bra with the ability of who'd done this thousands of times, cupping your tits carefully like they were precious.

“you look so fucking gorgeous it's killing me. my god—” your nipples hardened and he smirked, visibly satisfied. when his tongue finally found them, you squirmed on top of him, the sudden acknowledgement of his bulge forming under you now both overwhelming and pleasuring.

“hoon, don't tease—”

“don't be so eager, sweetheart. even though you look beautiful begging, this is just the start and you're already acting all slutty” he bit one of your nipples harder only to watch you tremble, the degrading tone laced in his hoarse tone.

your fingers found his scalp, holding on to it firmly and gripping it when he sucked on a certain spot that made you go dumb. your whines turned into moans, sinful sounds leaving your throat beautifully, the noise finding his ears like music.

your hips rolled, trying to find friction between your bodies. because you were not in the mood of holding back, and when his bulge teased you so good? there was no point in pretending.

“holy shit— keep going like that.” he momentarily stopped his mouth, and you swore the face he made was unreal. eyebrows furrowed, eyes fluttering closed, biting bottom lip, trying to keep himself still.

you kept going, sometimes bouncing on his lap. soon, your arousal couted his black leggings and a wet spot could be seen. you shut your eyes, the fabric keeping you from coming undone but at the same time leaving you overwhelmed, the pleasure building up.

“you really couldn't wait, could ya? so fucking desperate.” his grip on your waist tightened, signalling you to stop, to stay still. despite your own desires, you did exactly as you were said, and sunghoon quickly took off your shorts and pantie and layered his shorts and boxer just below his knees, not really caring about it. when you took a glance of his face, he was flustered, that one concentrated face you were crazy about getting even redder when his tip teased your hole and you fully bounced on it, sitting up on him.

his hardened dick had already filled spots that made you see stars when you started to move your hips under his control, the action now feeling way more intimate and way better.

“always so tight around me— shit, keep bouncing.” and oh you did. you alternated between bouncing, grinding and riding, your hips moving senselessly as your breathing came out short, uneven. the moans that left your mouth filled the living room and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin became louder when he bottomed out, thrusting on you from below.

your thighs burned, but the desire was bigger, the pleasure was better. soon, you felt your legs sore, muscles almost screaming — but not as loud as you did, of course — sunghoon noticed immediately, and he became rougher, grip tight to tell you that you only had to stay still.

his thrusts were deliberate, hitting your g-spot every single time, aligning perfectly with the way your hips rolled. he groaned — guttural, loud, rough. — signaling that he was close, or that you were close, you didn't really know. however, when your nails began to scratch him and your hips faltered, he understood perfectly what it meant without saying a single word. because there was no need to, obviously.

he leaned in to suck against your neck one more time, his kisses now slower, savoring your skin like a whole meal. his thrusts lost a bit of its pace, and when he came, he announced it with a lewd, raw sound, gripping the curve of your hips like it was something he wanted to destroy. to ruin completely

because he fills you up all at once, burying himself inside you in one smooth, deep thrust, stretching you open, pressing so much you swear you feel him in your stomach. “filling you up so good. feel full don't you?”

“shit, hoon— s’ full” you cried, your cum mixing with him as you released. you buried your head on the crook of his neck and he got the cue to fuck you through all of it, leaving you empty and filling you up simultaneously. the scent of him filling up your nostrils as your mind blanked deliciously.

you bit his skin as if felt too much, and both of you didn't move for a second, your breathing irregular, the smell of sex filling the room.

when he did say something, it felt more like a confession from how low it was, despite the dirty words that would leave his mind. “you don't think we're over, right? you asked for it. take it.”

“fuck, hoon, ngh— shouldn't you be tired from gym?”

“not at all. i workout in order to keep up with you, horny girl”

and you knew that would be a very, very long night.

#enhypen #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #enha x reader #this picture of sunghoon got me feral #i need sunghoon #enhypen smut #enha #sunghoon au #laura on tumblr

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kiyoomiee · 4 months ago

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one. two. three. four. five.

How can you avoid Sukuna if his door was directly in front of yours?

It didn’t help that you moved in during the hottest summer of the year.

You had to endure seeing him half naked, all the damn time.

You almost dropped your glass of water when he strolled in the kitchen wearing nothing but his sweatpants on.

He didn’t even look bothered, flaunting that muscled body of his with tattoos. As if he needed to add to the heat of the climate.

“You’re staring, girl.”

“I’m not.” Yeah you were, shamelessly.

“Tch, you walking around my house like that?” He eyed you from head to toe.

“You’re literally half-naked, Sukuna.” You frowned and defended yourself.

What’s wrong with your shirt and shorts? Oh right, you were not wearing a bra.

“Who says you can call me Sukuna?”

“You call me girl all the time! I have a name you know.”

“Yeah I know, but you are a girl too. And that’s all you’ll ever be in my eyes. Now go back upstairs and change your fucking clothes, you’re irritating me.”

“You can’t order me around like that! What are you, my father?”

“No, but you’ll be homeless without me.”

“Fine, daddy.”

You brat. You’ll be the death of him.

Sukuna noticed your little antics after that.

Purposefully wearing your tighest and shortest clothes around him. Brushing past him intentionally when you pass by each other. Looking up at him with those doe eyes fuck-.

He’s done nothing but notice you and it’s pissing him off.

Yuuji threw a pool party not realizing that Sukuna will get off early from work.

So when he stumbled upon you in his room alone wearing the most sinful bikini he’s ever seen, he’s done for.

All the smooth skin on display, how could he not look?

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” You jumped in surprise causing your boobs to jiggle slightly, which Sukuna was really aware of.

“S-Sukuna, Yuuji told me you kept the speaker in here. I was trying to find it.”

He walks up to you and you can feel the heat of his body because of how close he is. He’s caging you in.

“Hmm, is that right? Tell me girl, why would a fucking speaker be on my bed?”

“I-I was looking for it!” Your voice came out a pitch higher than you wanted to.

You were breathing hard. In this angle, Sukuna can see the tops of your soft tits with every breath.

Fuck, he’s losing his mind.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? All those flimsy clothing and the little touches. You wanna try to seduce all the guys out there? Go ahead. But you can’t seduce me, girl. Don’t you even dare try.”

The way he says girl. So cold and detached.

Girl.

“Fuck you, Sukuna.” You stare up at him defiantly, not caring about the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes.

A laugh comes from him.

“You wish. Sorry sweetheart but you’re not my type.” He stares right back at you with a smirk.

Yeah, that kinda hurts.

But you didn’t move. The two of you were locked in a staring contest.

“Let me pass, I want to go back outside.” You broke the silence and relented.

Sukuna didn’t say anything, he walked to his closet and pulled out a shirt then threw it to you.

“Wear it, can’t stand looking at you with your tits out like that.” Fuck, what’s wrong with him?

Seeing you like this had him feeling like a horny teenage boy who’s seen a pair of boobs for the first time.

“It’s a pool party. Every girl down there is wearing a bikini. They don’t care about what I wear because they’re all with each other.” You threw the shirt back at him and went for the door.

“Besides, the only one staring at my tits in this goddamn house is you, Sukuna.” You stated before disappearing from his sight.

Fuck, ain’t that the truth?

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tags: @emyyy007 @thebumbqueen @domainofmarie @cheriiepies

#jjk sukuna #jjk #jjk au #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryoumen x reader #non curse au #jjk x reader #light angst #sukuna ryoumen x you

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 2 years ago

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Not me hitting tag limit kjhggfggjk.

Congrats on 3k!! You deserve it sooo much💌

If you have the time (and only if you have the time!) I would like to request a sort of a short bullet point fic. Or more so just your thoughts on the following: moving in with seventeen. Who is the one that labels every box? Who will live out of moving boxes for the next year. And yeah, just overall the vibes of new beginnings and promises😶‍🌫️

Pls only do write something if any of this inspires anything, if not pls don't feel burdened to write anyway!

I love your writing, so once again: congrats on the succes💗

seungcheol thinks it's one huge adventure. yes, he will be the person lifting the stupidly heavy boxes at the store. yes, he will make it a competition to build furniture as fast as possible (and race to take it all apart when you discover the desk legs are all different lengths because someone thought he could figure it out without the manual). even among the graveyard of boxes and bubble wrap and those huge styrofoam slabs he keeps chasing you with, seungcheol is happiest to lay with you on your bare, naked mattress (because he forgot to order sheets). he's planning what pictures of the two of you he wants to put on the walls. this is the first time he's owned a welcome mat and he's not even mad about it. it's all yours, together, and there's no bigger adventure than that.

his walk-in closet. bowls the perfect size for a portion of ramen, plus an egg. the lego taj mahal with two pieces missing that he insists will turn up sometime. these are some of the things jeonghan's not sure he can bring to your new apartment. it's not that he doesn't want to move in with you--he just doesn't know if he can. hell, you kissed him for the first time on the tiny futon in his living room, and he just learned it's too small for your new place. it's not until he watches you, later that day, play jenga with the toiletries on his bathroom counter because there's never been enough space for the two of you, that he realizes maybe it isn't such a bad thing to try something new. he imagines leaning you against a new sink, with that carrara marble you've been talking about, and he might even say he's looking forward to it.

you don't think there's a day you haven't seen joshua on zillow. look at my pinterest board, he'd say, and you wouldn't have it in you to ask how the hell you're affording that couch or if you really need a salt lamp that badly. you've lost count of the times your thursday nights consisted of a: your favorite chinese takeout and b: watching celebrity architectural digest videos. but joshua can't help it--to him, there's really nothing that would make him happier than waking up next to you in a bed you picked together. now if it was a midcentury modern canopy bed? even better. he can't wait to use his fancy little espresso machine to make your morning latte and grab your coat from the rack you got from that shop in LA before he kisses you before you head off to work. but they're all just things (pretty, shiny ones, albeit)--more ways he can show you the love you deserve.

junhui loves a good open house. early on in your relationship, you would dress to the nines before pretending to shop for a mansion you could never afford. junhui would comment on the door handles and the crown molding like he was a property brother, and then you'd finish the night off making out in the mcdonald's drive-thru. things are a little different now that you actually can afford a home. what if you end up not liking it? will you get tired of the wallpaper? will the closet be big enough? but surprisingly, none of this seems to matter when you walk into the house. (what's on your mind? you ask him. n-nothing, he says.) but he's really thinking about feeding you in that kitchen and spending the morning looking out those bay windows. how beautiful you'll look greeting him from that front door. needless to say, he's sold.

you find soonyoung hiding in the kitchen at your housewarming party. just an hour earlier, he was dumping cans of sparkling water in the jungle juice to make it more "adult" (as if it would erase the fact that an entire bottle of everclear had already disappeared into the mix). the hour before that, he was cleaning like a madman despite there not being much to clean yet. he held the duster the wrong way and you think he got more windex on the ceiling than on the windows. darling, what's wrong? you ask. his little, drunken hands wrap around yours so he can bring them to his cheeks. i just realized this is all ours. like, all of it, he wails, teary, and you realize he is far too many drinks down. it's only after you've sent him to bed with a water and a kiss that you really think about what he said. the hardwood floors, the duvet, the misshapen tiger plushie on the couch, him--all ours.

wonwoo is not an easy person to live with. the first three things he unpacked were, in order, his table, his first monitor, then his second monitor. then he ruined your perfectly curated aesthetic with his neon red keyboard and a gaming chair that would make any interior designer cry. the final straw is when wonwoo manages to kill the one and only houseplant you have, the single thing holding your home decor together. but he's trying, he really is. he's bought a silly little throw blanket for your couch (aren't the tassels fun? he says, wiggling the fabric between his hands). his ugly lamp has been replaced by a strange glowing cat light and there's a sticker on his computer tower. he buys a succulent and you have a little naming ceremony in your kitchen. and it lives, against all odds!

jihoon doesn't know the difference between a chaise and a sectional. cherry and mahogany look the same to him. and god forbid you ask him to choose between terrazzo and subway tile because he really thinks both of them look good and, no, he's not just saying that to make your life harder. jihoon isn't good at the hgtv stuff, but he's happy to move all the boxes. it's only when he's unpacking said boxes that he finally gets it. (the vase that came with the first bouquet of flowers he bought you. the record player you got him for your first anniversary, now fingerprinted, well-loved. matching valentine's day teddy bears, worn and baby pink.) you're standing on a stool stacked on top of another stool trying to hang a poster, and this is what home looks like.

seokmin wants to live in the ikea showrooms. you can't blame him--sometimes, when there's nothing better to do, you'll spend your afternoon in a bedroom that's not yours. seokmin will try on the lumpy blazer from the closet, and you'll beckon him to your sprawling king size bed, the one sat next to the painted on windows and floating shelves. honey, come to dinner, you'd say. he'll peek over your shoulder, arms wrapped around your middle, and you open the lid to a big, steaming pot of nothing. micke or lagkapten? you ask, completely unseriously. but he's thinking about it, really thinking about it. in his mind, he's building a home together, silly furniture piece by piece, counting down to the days when you really can agonize over plants and how many drawers you want in a desk.

when you got the keys to your new place, mingyu insisted you eat jajangmyeon to commemorate move-in day. unfortunately, he failed to account for the series of delays that led to you having absolutely no furniture to move in on said move-in day. but mingyu is nothing if not a man with a plan, so he runs to the store and buys the cheapest assortment of kitchen tools and ingredients for the world's most unlikely dinner. we really don't have to do this, you laugh, the backs of your legs cold on the kitchen counter. but i want to, he insists, holding out a spoon for you to taste. we have to christen the apartment. you eventually do christen it the right way (involving: lots of tongue, even more laughter), but you might prefer, just a tiny bit, the night you sat on the empty kitchen floor and fed mingyu out of a pan.

minghao has rearranged the living room four times now. every time you walk in, it feels like you've entered someone else's house. it doesn't look right, he says, hands on his hips like his life depended on it. you don't know how to tell him they all look right, every single version. in the first version, all cardboard furniture and plastic wrap, you gave up on deciphering the wifi setup and built a fort instead. the second involved an ottoman in the walkway, which you almost immediately stubbed your toe on (and laughed so hard you cried). in the third, the couch faced away from the adjoining room, and you accidentally spooked minghao so badly he almost broke his knitting needles. but it's all perfect, every iteration, because you're doing it together--a hypothesis he's more willing to believe when you shut him up with a kiss.

don't look now, but seungkwan is buying another doodad at your local sunday swap meet. it's a small painted figurine of a bear in a nightcap, which he simply points to and says that's me. you don't have it in you to mention the fact that you're currently unpacking his seemingly never-ending assortment of doodads and you couldn't possibly know where one more would go. it's only when you're getting ready for bed that you catch the little bear in the glow of the alarm clock light. there's already a turtle with a hat in the medicine cabinet (jeju, last summer). on top of the fridge, a woodcarving that says EAT. (tj maxx, 2 years ago. it still makes you laugh). even though you just moved, all these little seungkwan-isms make home a little more home.

you wouldn't call vernon a planner. his version of housewarming is watching you play the sims. but real life doesn't have nearly as much poolside drama or five story houses--just packing peanuts and 50 page appliance manuals. aren't boxes just drawers? vernon asked you one day. no, but that's how it always starts. two weeks after move-in, vernon cooks you breakfast with a pan procured from a cardboard box. by three weeks, you know the exact box everything is in. (you still haven't been able to find vernon's avril lavigne let go album, though.) it's only when you're eating dinner on top of the box that your dining table is in when you say, vernon, baby, i think we need to actually move in. he takes one look at you, who's wearing mismatched socks and his boxers because your shorts are underneath the tv box, and his smile nearly splits his cheeks. yeah, i think so too.

if you had asked chan what his dream house looked like, he would say it had a wraparound porch, a white picket fence, and a pool. your new apartment has none of those things. the length of your bedroom is a little more than one and a half times the length of his body and he's not even that tall. if he looks out the window he can see right into his neighbor's apartment (three cats and no bitches. almost like he's living next to wonwoo). and his feet stick out of the tub. but he's learning how to live in small spaces. he likes the squeeze of your bathroom, how you have to sit on the counter if you want to both brush your teeth together. he likes the bump of your elbows when you wash the dishes together. most of all, he likes falling asleep with you slotted to his side--even in your tiny bed, he wouldn't mind having you a little closer.

#seventeen fluff #lily <3 #oh i am so all over the place after reading this #why would you make me yearn like this?#bye i knew as soon as i read cheol's that these would destroy me #he would be the type to show off trying lift the heaviest boxest and make unpacking a (loving) contest #from one competitive person to another i get him though #why did jeonghan's make me so emotional #oh the type of love that pushes you out of your comfort zone </3 lily you are so evil for this #reading these made me realise that i am in fact josh lmao #shoutout to teenage me and my 600 pinterest boards with my dream homes and aesthetics lmao #kkjhggffghjk ngl soonyoung's might be my favourite or atleast among my favourites #i can *see* his flushed teary eyed face clear as day in my mind #gah him caring so much about your shared home and making sure it stays preserved 🥺#i am also wonwoo kjhhggjk listen i think the clashing aesthetics could be cute!!!#JIHOON'S IS ALSO ONE OF MY FAVOURITES PLEASE GOD I LOVE THE TYPES OF PEOPLE WHO KNOW FUCK ALL ABOUT SOMETHING BUT DO EARNESTLY TRY TO #PARTAKE AND SHARE THEIR OPINIONS #i also want to say i love how you've injected their personalities into all of these #like yeah i can totally see seokmin being the type to goofily roleplay coming home tp you and mingyu being the type to pout and make sure #you two break in your apartment “properly” lol #minghao just gave me flashbacks to my mother kkjhgffhkk the way our living room layout would change monthly #SEUNGKWAN'S #i love love people who inject themselves and what they love into their homes #i am actually a mixture of him wonwoo and josh somehow #bye why would you make Vernon's so domestic and soft and loving? I AM LONELY LILY YOU DON'T NEED TO ADD SALT TO THE WOUND yada yada i love #people who love each other simply existing with each other yada yada #i just want you to know dino's almost made me cry #i feel so much for him it's so fucking embarrassing #anyways our home has flaws but they don't matter because they make it unique and ours and everything is okay because it's the home we share #WHAT. IF. I. JUST. FUCKING. DIE?

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pawstriez · 1 year ago

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୨୧ ˗ˏˋ OTAKU HOT GIRL ! | suguru & satoru x yn “i like a tall woman with a nice, big ass.” ꒰ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 ! ꒱ this is me being delusional srry, but thinkin ab gojo & geto fucking tall, curvy! reader after she begs them to watch her favorite anime with her . . like ugh rn. also forgive me if this is pure degeneracy. i was bein a horn dog n’ there’s no plot rlly :/ inspired by the one n only stallion ofc, we luv u mama

꒰ 𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡 ꒱ : blk fem reader, uses she/her pronouns, usage of pet names like cocksleeve, love, baby, babe, sweetheart, etc. positions included such as doggystyle, double pen, themes such as choking, bratty reader, dom! satoru & suguru, rough sex ??, oral fem recieve, oral male receive, dirty talk, mentions of a size kink, lots n lots of cum, mmm yum so gross — 5.3𝑲 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕

“hurry up, boys! m’ gonna’ be mad if you miss the intro. it ruins the whole experience of watching for the first time!”

“we’re comin’, woman. calm down.”

both satoru and suguru scurry around in your shared kitchen, gathering the rest of whatever horrid snack combinations they could find before jogging lightly to make their way over to you on the couch. with your feet positioned criss-crossed n’ a warm bowl of popcorn sizzling down in your lap, the only thing really missing were the two imbeciles of men you mistakenly decided to roommate with around a year or two ago.

you roll your eyes fondly as satoru and suguru finally plop down on either side of you, their arms laden with an assortment of junk food. satoru’s got a family-sized bag of cool ranch doritos tucked under one arm and a jar of peanut butter in the other hand, while suguru’s juggling a pack of oreos, a can of whipped cream, and what looks suspiciously like . . ew, a jar of pickles. what?

“are y’all for real right now?” you laugh, eyeing their haul with a mix of amusement and disgust. “ we’re about to watch anime, not enter a county fair eating contest.”

“hey, don't knock it til’ you’ve tried it,” satoru grins, ripping open the doritos and the peanut butter simultaneously. his gaze dips briefly to your chest, taking in the way your soft pink lace cami clings to your curves. “besides, we’ve gotta’ fuel up. you said this show is, and i quote, ‘a cultural reset that will redefine our understanding of feminism and body positivity in media.’ i don’t know man, that sounds intense.”

suguru snorts, unscrewing the oreo package. his eyes briefly lingering on the bare expanse of your thighs, the flimsy matching shorts riding high as you curl your legs underneath you. “pretty sure she just meant it’s got a lot of ass shakin’ and women empowerment. still, sounds pretty lovely.”

you chuck a kernel of popcorn at his head, giggling when it bounces off his nose. “excuse you, that’s a very tiny observation of ‘megan - sama : twerk hero for a new generation.’ s’ a journey of a woman’s adventure to self-love and confidence in a world that constantly tries to tear her down. she uses her sexuality as a form of power. she like, challenges the male gaze and double standards with, well . . every clap of her ass.”

satoru blinks at you, a glob of peanut butter sliding off the dorito he’s holding halfway to his mouth. “that . . was surprisingly deep, yn.”

“mmm, that's our girl,” suguru says proudly, throwing an arm around your shoulders. his fingers skimming over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “beautiful, brilliant, and able to find meaning in the most unlikely places. like a twerking anime.”

you elbow him playfully in the ribs, warmth blooming in your chest at the casual praise even as heat prickles across your skin at the contact. “you’re jokin’ but m’ serious,” you whine, “it celebrates a body type that’s so often shamed and or fetishized, like i dunno’ . . she faces some of the worst - but she never gives up, and that self-love is what ultimately gives her the strength to change the world around her in the end . .” you keep gushing, waxing poetic about megan’s badassery and the show’s powerful message. the boys listen attentively, nodding along, but you don't miss the way their gazes keep drifting south, tracing your figure with barely-concealed appreciation.

you hated to go on your fourth tangent of the week right now, but god, representation really did matter. it was practically rare to see your body type in entertainment — let alone that exact body type standing at a whopping 5’10. this was . . like you said, a real cultural reset.

a comfortable silence then settles as they finish taking it in, the low murmur of the anime’s opening theme — otaku hot girl, now filling the room. you sneak a glance at satoru out of the corner of your eye, surprised to find him looking thoughtful rather than skeptical like any other guy your age would.

“i can dig it,” satoru says slowly, popping a peanut butter dorito into his mouth. “more representation of different body types in media, s’ important. and i mean, objectively speaking . . .” he rakes his eyes over your form, lingering on the swell of your hips and ass. “i like a tall woman with a nice, big ass. ain't nothin’ wrong with a little extra somethin' to hold onto, y’know?”

you raise a brow, something playfully bold and a little reckless brewing in your chest. “is that so? didn’t know y’liked your girls thick, gojo.”

satoru swallows, adam's apple bobbing as his gaze snaps to yours. “no, yn. i love, my girls thick,” he says, voice pitched low. “well that and, exploring your sexuality n’ confidence in general is jus’ sexy . . as hell.”

“hmmm, i see. getou?” you turn to suguru, head cocked. “any thoughts?”

suguru’s smile is slow and devastating, dark promise in his eyes. “he’s not wrong. m’ sure you know that though. body like . . yours, s’the kinda canvas i could spend hours worshipping. takes an incel to not appreciate it, honestly.”

“oh please. all that bravado, but i can’t you couldn’t handle me even if you tried.” you shimmy your shoulders, drawing attention to the truly tremendous amount of cleavage your cami isn't concealing. “you'd probably bust in your boxers if you so much as touched this ass. thank youuu.”

but even as you say that with all the confidence in the world, you can’t help but to think . . ‘what if?’ what if they could? what if you were talkin’ straight out of your ass right now just to have it be thrown in your face later on? — no, never, couldn’t be.

and later on, as the end credits of the final episode roll, you stretch languidly, you’d forgotten about the thought, feeling pleasantly buzzed from two pretty drinks the three of you had earlier and the easy camaraderie of the night. satoru and suguru have been the perfect viewing companions, cracking jokes and providing commentary that had you in stitches more often than not.

but all in all, underneath the lighthearted banter, you can feel something else tiptoeing - a tension, an electricity that’s been building all night. it’s in the way satoru’s gaze lingers on the curve of your throat as you tip your head back to laugh. it’s in the heat of suguru’s palm on your knee, his thumb rubbing absent circles that inch higher and higher with each passing minute.

“so . .” satoru drawls as the autoplay timer counts down to the next season. “that was . . actually enlightening annnd i just followed megan on instagram. so, when will she be mine?”

“mhmm, told you,” you laugh, feeling loose and languid from the warmth of the alcohol in your veins and the solid press of their bodies on either side of you. “and i dunno, join the club. she’s a fuckin’ queen. knows what she wants and goes for it, she’s inspirational, and an overall bad bitch, duh — i want her too.”

“kinda like someone else we know,” suguru muses, a sly curl to his lips as he turns to face you. his eyes are dark, heated in a way that makes your breath catch. “ain’t that right, yn?”

you swallow, pulse picking up speed as you meet his loaded gaze. “oh? and who might that be?”

“you,” satoru says bluntly, shifting to angle his body towards you as well. the movement brings him close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him, the firm press of his muscular thigh against yours. “talkin’ all that shit earlier, bout’ how we couldn’t handle you. you think that, babe?”

oh . . so maybe you were wrong.

and they had planned on it proving that to you.

there’s a challenge in his tone, a dare that sends a frisson of anticipation skittering down your spine. you lick your lips, noting with a thrill how both their gazes zero in on the movement, “maybe i did,” you say, pitching your voice low and breathy. “what’re you gonna’ do about it?”

suguru makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, fingers flexing on your knee. “oh, well since you asked . . we can give a little demo - show you exactly what we’re gonna’ do about it. ain’t that right, satoru?”

“damn straight,” satoru growls, a wicked gleam in his eye. “whaddaya’ say, sweet thing? why don’t you go ahead n’ show us what makes you a hot girl, yn?” he finishes.

heart pounding, skin prickling with goosebumps, you lift your chin in clear provocation. “tch, whatever. bring it on then, bitches. show me what you’ve got.”

of course you’d challenge them. why wouldn’t you? you quite literally had the power of god and megan on your side.

twin groans meet your bold words, suguru’s hand tightening convulsively on your leg as satoru’s eyes blaze with intent. “don’t mind if we do,” satoru rasps, voice gone low and gravelly with want. “been fuckin’ gagging for it all night, watchin’ you all curled up and cozy in this tiny ass pajama set, lookin’ good enough to eat . .”

“gonna’ fuckin’ devour you,” suguru vows, already shifting to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. “gonna’ put this bratty little mouth to good use, fuck, been dyin’ to feel these pretty lips wrapped around my dick.”

you moan, head tipping back to grant him better access even as your hands come up to fist in satoru’s hair, dragging him down for a filthy, biting kiss. he groans into your mouth, licking past the seam of your lips to tangle his tongue with yours, one large hand palming roughly at your breast through the flimsy lace of your cami.

“fuckin’ tease,” he pants when you break apart for air, fingers already working at the tiny buttons holding the top closed. “prancin’ around in this scrap of nothin’ all night, like a slut. y’knew we wouldn’t be able to stop thinkin’ about you, baby.”

“why don’t you tell me?” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant need in their faces, the desperate flex of their hands on your body. “c’mon, boys, use your words. what’ve you been thinkin’ about doin’ to me all night, huh? how’re you gonna’ shut me up, put me in my place?”

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” suguru swears feelingly, wrenching himself away from your neck to stare at you with wild, hungry eyes. “keep talkin’ like that and i’m gonna lose it, i swear.”

“then lose it,” you purr, hooking a leg over his hip and using the leverage to grind yourself against his straining erection. he hisses, hips rocking forward to press the thick line of his cock harder against your aching center. “c’mon, sugu baby, show me how bad you want it. show me exactly what this bratty little tease does to you.”

“fuck, you fuckin’ - get her naked,” suguru snarls to satoru, already fumbling with the tie of your shorts. “fuckin’ get her naked right goddamn now, i can’t - i gotta’ taste her, gotta’ get my mouth on this sweet cunt before i fucking explode . .”

satoru doesn't waste any time, practically ripping your cami open in his haste to get at your bared tits. you cry out sharply as he latches onto one straining nipple, suckling hard and grazing the sensitized bud with his teeth. “oh fuck, oh god, yes!”

your shorts and panties are yanked down your legs, the sudden rush of cool air on your heated flesh making you gasp. and then suguru is shouldering past satoru to find his way between your thighs, pushing them open wide and burying his face in your dripping cunt with a guttural moan of satisfaction, “i call first,” he mumbles into your pussy.

satoru scoffs an agitated, “not fair, but whatever,” and you can’t help but to giggle at the sheer fact that they were quite literally bickering over who was gonna’ eat your pussy first.

“shut the fuck up — ”

“aht, aht! hey, all my munches get along so . . y’all about to argue all day or what?” you mutter, and as if they were being scolded back in their early sourcerer days - they hush, and then, “holy shit!” you whimper, back arching clear off the couch as suguru goes to town, licking and suckling at your clit like a man starved. “o-oh my god, sugu, you’re s’good . .”

“mm, y’like that, sweetheart?” satoru husks, sucking and then pulling off your nipple with a lewd pop. his hand palms roughly at your other breast, plucking at the stiff peak, drawing high, breathy cries from your throat. “like the way he eats this pretty pussy, fucks you with his tongue? gonna’ make you cum so hard you scream, baby, gonna’ make you fucking flood his mouth.”

“y-yes,” you gasp, fisting your hands in both their hair as suguru goes even harder, slipping two fingers into your clenching hole and pumping them in time with the relentless suction of his lips around your throbbing clit. “yes, fuck, m’gonna cum already, gonna’ come on your face sugu, please, fuck, m’ so close . .”

“that's it,” satoru coaxes, pinching your nipple viciously, making you yelp. “give it up, yn, fucking come for us like a good girl, wanna hear you scream . .”

suguru crooks his fingers just right, rubbing mercilessly against the spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids, and you shatter with a raw sob of their names. your cunt clamps down vise-tight on his thrusting digits as you gush around them, release flooding his chin and dripping down his wrist.

he works you through the aftershocks with hitching praises and soft kitten licks, only pulling away when you start twitching from oversensitivity. he rocks back onto his heels, wiping and licking around his mouth with the back of his hand and tongue, eyes hazy and satisfied as he takes in your wrecked, limp form. “fuckin’ gorgeous,” he slurs, words edged with wonder. “shit - look at you, jesus, all fucked out and dripping just from my mouth. i told you i could spend hours between these thighs, baby, i wasnt lyin’.”

“h-hours, huh?” you manage, breath still coming in shuddery gasps. “that mean you’re done with me already, sugu?”

his eyes sharpen, a predatory curl to his lips that sends a bolt of heat straight to your core. “not even close, pretty girl. m’ jus’ gettin’ warmed up.”

“why don’t you let her catch her breath,” satoru suggests, something dark and intent in his gaze as his eyes rove over your naked, trembling body. he palms his cock through his sweats, hissing at the contact. “still gotta put that mouth to work, remember?”

your cunt clenches weakly at the implication, arousal already starting to rekindle in your veins. “gimmie’ a minute to recover and i’ll put it to work all night long,” you promise, licking your lips. “wanna’ choke on it, toru. want you to fuck my throat . . please.”

“jesus, fuck, you’re so nasty,” satoru groans, fisting a hand in your hair and dragging you up for a brief, brutal kiss. “gonna’ wreck you, baby. gonna’ fuckin’ ruin you for anyone else, mark you up inside n’ out until all you can think about is us, all you can feel is us stretching that hungry little pussy wide . .”

“oh please,” you whimper, already halfway there just from their words, their roving hands, the hot press of their bodies caging you in on either side. “god, please, i want it — fuck me stupid, i don’t care.”

“and we will,” suguru vows, fingers dipping back between your legs to circle your slick, twitching entrance. “gonna’ pump you so full of cum, baby, shit, gonna fuckin’ breed this cunt.” you keen high in your throat, the images they’re painting sending heat licking through your veins like wildfire. you want it, want them, with an intensity that’s scarce.

“so what’re you waiting for?” you rasp, disentangling yourself from their groping hands to shimmy off the couch and drop to your knees between their splayed thighs. you rest your palms high on their legs, thumbs teasing at the straining bulges tenting their sweats. “i believe i was promised a face fucking . . and y’know i hate broken promises. don’t make me beg.”

“brat,” satoru husks, eyes practically black with lust as he lifts his hips so you can tug his pants down his thighs. his cock springs free, thick and ruddy and leaking at the tip, and your mouth waters at the sight. “let’s see how cocky you are with your mouth full. won’t be able to sass when you’re chokin’ on dick.”

“choking? you promise, daddy?” you purr, shuffling closer on your knees, hands running teasingly up and down their thighs. suguru makes a strangled noise, hands clenching into fists at his sides like it’s taking everything in him not to grab you.

“open,” satoru demands hoarsely. “open that smart fucking mouth. lemme’ feed you.” you part your lips obediently, tongue darting out to swipe at the swollen head of his dick. he jerks like he’s been electrocuted, a guttural moan punching out of his chest as you proceed to lave at his cock like an ice cream cone, all kittenish licks and teasing flicks that have him cursing up a storm above you.

“gonna’ kill me,” he grits out, hips flexing like it's taking everything he has to keep from fucking up into your mouth. “yn, jesus, quit teasing and suck it, shit — suck it baby, please . .” deciding to put him out of his misery, you open wide and sink down, relaxing your throat to take him as deep as you can. he shouts, hands flying to your hair as you set up a steady rhythm, bobbing and sucking and swirling your tongue until he’s leaking a steady stream of precum down your throat.

suguru is panting harshly on your other side, fisting his own cock with short, rough strokes as he watches you work over satoru. “look so fuckin’ pretty with a dick in your mouth,” he praises raspily, thumb collecting the bead of moisture at his tip and reaching down to smear it across your lips where they're stretched wide around satoru. “made to be a fuckin’ eater, weren’t you sweetheart? made for us, made to take what you’re given, aren’t you?”

you whimper around your mouthful, the degradation making your cunt clench up hard. you redouble your efforts, relaxing your throat and sinking down until satoru’s cock is nudging the back of your throat, your nose pressed against his pelvis.

“holy fucking shit,” he wheezes, fingers tightening in your hair to hold you there. “oh my god, oh fuck, your fucking throat, m'gonna come, gonna come right down your slutty little neck . .”

“do it,” suguru growls, hand still fisting his own cock, the wet slap of skin on skin obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room. “feed her that load, man, fucking paint her throat, make her gag.”

satoru cums with a hoarse shout, cock pulsing on your tongue as he empties himself down your throat. you swallow it all, working your tongue along the throbbing underside to draw out every last drop until he's shaking and pushing you off with an overwhelmed grunt. and you pull off with a gasp, lips swollen and spit-slick, chin wet with drool and the remnants of his release. before you can even catch your breath, suguru is grabbing you by the hair and dragging you over to his waiting cock, the head an angry purple and weeping steadily.

“looks like s’ my turn now, hm?” he grits out, tracing the seam of your lips with his cock, smearing the slickness around like obscene lipgloss. “back open, c’mon.”

you let your jaw drop wide once again, and then he’s pushing in, stretching your lips wide around his girth as he feeds you every thick, throbbing inch. he sets a punishing pace from the start, one hand cupped under your chin to feel his cock moving in your throat as the other winds tight in your hair, holding you still for his thrusts.

“oh fuck yeah,” he rasps, eyes fever-bright as he stares down at you, taking in your glazed eyes and drool-slick chin, the vulgar bulge of your throat. “takin’ it like a champ aren’t ya’? so pretty like this, baby. y’like it, like daddy’s cock buried in your throat like this?” you moan around him, looking up at him through your lashes as you hollow your cheeks and suck viciously — vacuum technique doing absolute wonders by the looks of it. he curses, rhythm faltering as his cock throbs warningly against your tongue.

satoru is suddenly there, pressing up against your back, arms banding around your waist as clever fingers find your aching nipples and pluck at them roughly. “your face is so pretty,” he husks in your ear, stubble rasping against your neck as he mouths at your throat. “it’ll look even prettier painted . . c’mon make him cum, you’ve earned it.”

the filthy words combined with the sharp mix of pleasure pain of his fingers on your nipples has you shuddering, cunt clenching down on nothing as a bolt of heat sizzles up your spine. suguru’s is close, you can tell by the way his thrusts are going erratic, his cock pulsing faster against your tongue.

“f-fuck, oh fuck, m’gonna cum,” he warns, high and tight, hips snapping forward once, twice more before he's pulling out abruptly, fisting his cock with desperate strokes. “open your mouth, fuck, stick out your tongue baby, wanna’ see it, fuckin’ shit!”

you obey mindlessly, tipping your face up and extending your tongue, a lewd, pornographic presentation. suguru loses it at the sight, shouting brokenly as his orgasm crashes over him, cock jerking in his grip as he paints your face with ropey streams of pearlescent white.

you moan shakily, back arching as some of his release hits your waiting tongue, the salty-musk taste of him flooding your senses. you feel debauched, utterly wrecked and still desperately turned on, your cunt a throbbing mess of need between your legs.

“holy shit!” suguru pants, slumping back against the couch, chest heaving. he takes in your cum - streaked face, the way you’re panting and squirming, still perched on your knees between them. “you’re a fuckin' vision, you know that? prettiest thing i’ve ever seen, all messy and marked up, fuck.”

“mmm, but she’s not finished though, are you baby?” satoru purrs, fingers drifting down to tease through your soaked folds, making you gasp and buck your hips. “look, she’s still hungry for it, so ready for more like the insatiable little slut you are. tell us what you need, sweetheart. tell us how you want us to wreck this pussy.”

“both of you,” you manage, voice a needy rasp. you reach down to circle your swollen clit, putting on a show for them. “want both you in me, filling me up t-til’ i can’t fuckin’ take it.”

“fuck,” satoru swears emphatically, cock already twitching with renewed interest. “yeah baby, we can do that, no problem. so sorry if we make you cry.”

“we gotta’ get her on the bed,” susguru demands, pulling you up and herding you towards satoru’s room. “need you spread out for us, wanna’ wreck you properly.”

you go willingly, eagerly, practically trembling with anticipation as they usher you into the bedroom, tearing their clothes off as they go. they descend upon you like men starved as soon as your back hits the mattress, hands and mouths roving over every inch of bared skin until you're writhing and keening beneath their attentions.

suguru pushes your thighs open and buries his face between them, groaning at the taste of your arousal. he licks into you like a man dying of thirst, tongue delving deep and curling just right to make you see stars. “fuckin’ drenched,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to circle your entrance with one long finger, gathering the slickness. “absolutely soaked for it, aren't you baby? dripping for our cocks, greedy little pussy desperate to be stuffed full.”

“please,” you whimper, back arching as he pushes two fingers knuckle-deep, pumping them lazily. “oh fuck, g-getou, more, need more!”

“ive got you,” satoru rasps, rolling on a condom and slicking himself up with lube. he shifts up the bed until he’s bracketing your head with his knees, the thick jut of his cock bobbing mere inches from your face. “gonna’ give this filthy mouth something to do while sugu opens up your hungry cunt, yeah? gonna’ fuck your throat while he fingers you sloppy, get you nice and ready for us both.”

you open eagerly for him, relaxing your jaw as he feeds his cock past your lips. he groans at the wet heat of your mouth, at the way you hollow your cheeks and suck, working your tongue along the throbbing underside.

“there you go,” he praises roughly, grabbing a handful of your hair and giving a shallow thrust. “just like that baby, fuck, feel like heaven around my dick . .”

you moan around him as suguru works a third finger into your dripping cunt, scissoring and curling them just right to graze that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. the dual stimulation has you shaking, the obscene sounds of satoru’s cock gliding through the slick clutch of your throat and suguru’s fingers pumping wetly into your pussy filling the room.

“she’s good to go,” suguru declares after a few endless minutes, pulling his fingers free and wiping them clean on the sheets. he slicks himself up, shifting into position between your spread thighs. “gonna’ wreck this pussy, baby, you have no idea how bad i’ve wanted this, wanted you. i think about you while i dream . .”

how could something said be so blended with both degeneracy and sweetness.

he pushes in on one smooth glide, the breath punching from his lungs in a guttural moan as your walls clench down greedily around him. “mm, what a tight fit. shit. gripping me, yn, goddamn.”

you sob brokenly around satoru’s cock as suguru bottoms out, hips flush against yours. he gives you a moment to adjust before he starts moving, rolling his hips in deep, devastating grinds that have you seeing stars.

satoru keeps rocking into your mouth, hands fisted in your hair to hold you in place for his thrusts. you take it eagerly, gagging a little when he hits the back of your throat but relaxing to let him push deeper, until your nose is pressed against his pelvis with every pump of his hips.

“m’ gonna’ cum down your throat again,” satoru grits out after a few minutes of spit-roasting you between them. “gonna’ get you all warmed up, honey.”

you moan helplessly, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you struggle to breathe around his considerable girth. just as spots start to dance in your vision, satoru stiffens and curses, hips jerking erratically as he spills into your mouth with a hoarse shout. “there you go baby, breathe for me — agh fuck yes. choke on daddy’s dick, thas’ good girl.” he then pulls out carefully, cradling your jaw as you cough and gasp, chest heaving.

suguru is still working into you from below, the drag of his cock against your fluttering walls almost unbearably good. you’re so fucking full of him, stretched around his thickness, but you still feel so empty, aching for more.

“please,” you rasp, looking up at satoru with wet, pleading eyes. “need your cock inside me too, need both of you fucking me, filling me, please.”

“such a needy little thing,” satoru marvels, eyes dark and hungry on your face. “gonna’ give it to you, baby, don’t worry. want me to stuff that pussy, hm? confuse you on whose is whose,” he laughs.

he slides down your body, shifting to kneel behind suguru between your lewdly spread legs. slicking up his fingers with more lube, he circles your stretched rim where suguru is steadily pumping into you, dipping just the tip of one finger in alongside his thrusting cock.

you keen high in your throat at the added stretch, the slight burn as he works you open further. suguru groans at the increased tightness, at the filthy drag of satoru’s fingers around his pistoning cock as he meticulously stretches you out. “god, look at you,” suguru pants, sounding absolutely wrecked as he stares down at where you're taking them both, hole straining wide and shiny-slick with lube and your own arousal. “pretty, little cunt all desperate for it, practically begging to be stuffed full. you want that, baby? want both of us crammed up in that pussy, wanna’ be our fuckin’ cocksleeve?”

“yes,” you sob, past the point of shame or restraint. “please, fuck, want it, want you both so deep in me, wan’ it to almost hurt . .”

“holy shit,” satoru swears feelingly, pulling his fingers free and lining his cock up alongside suguru’s. the blunt pressure against your already stuffed hole has you nearly hyperventilating, squirming down onto them eagerly. “okay, baby, deep breaths. gonna’ put both of us in, yeah?” you nod, and he pushes in hard, forcing his cockhead in alongside suguru’s with a devastating stretch. you wail brokenly, back bowing as you’re split open on their straining cocks, the burn of it so intense it borders on both pleasure and pain. but then suguru is rolling his hips and satoru is grinding into you and oh, oh it’s fucking perfect, the drag of them against your walls, the way they throb and pulse in tandem inside you.

“fuck,” suguru wheezes, sweat rolling down his temples. “o-oh fuck, fuck, fuck!.”

“m�� not gonna last,” satoru warns, voice absolutely shattered as he starts to move, drawing out only to slam back in, forcibly creating space for himself in your overstuffed channel. “yn, o-ooh, pussy’s stranglin’ me, baby — m’gonna cum.”

“do it,” you demand breathlessly, rolling your hips up to meet their thrusts, taking them impossibly deeper. “cum in me . . claim m-me.” with twin shouts they comply, snapping their hips forward one, two, three more times before they’re cumming hard, cocks pulsing in tandem as they empty themselves into you. you moan brokenly at the feel of it, of their release flooding your cunt, marking you up from the inside out.

they collapse against you as they come down, chests heaving and skin slick with sweat. you whimper as their softening cocks slip free of your abused hole, a river of come slipping out after them to soak the sheets.

“holy f-fuck,” satoru rasps after a long moment, pressing a reverent kiss to your shoulder. “that was fucking crazy . .”

“and incredible,” suguru adds, sounding just as dazed. “yn, baby, fuck. we wrecked you, jesus.”

“mmm, you did,” you agree, feeling utterly boneless and fucked-out in the best way. “absolutely ruined me for anyone else, jus’ like you promised.”

“good,” satoru growls, something fiercely possessive in his gaze as it rakes over your limp, satisfied form. “because this pussy? this filthy, perfect pussy? it belongs to us now. you belong to us now . . .”

you glance briefly at the tv, dick drunk and pleasure high. part of you thinks you should probably pay your respects to the anime that facilitated this unexpected but very welcome turn of events, but the rest of you is preoccupied with trying not to black out as satoru and suguru keep their attention on you.

megan-sama, you think muzzily, just before suguru starts to nip at your shoulder again, bless your ratchet heart. you the real mvp.

and then coherency flees completely as your boys descend on you once more, cutting off anything resembling higher thought.

the last fleeting thing you remember is a deep, unshakable gratitude for your beautifully crafted body and the incredible dudes about to spend the foreseeable future worshipping it.

thick thighs save lives, indeed.

there’s only one you.

we love you meg.

#🎀 — www.satorubiwrites.com #AGGHHHH #OTAKU HOT GIRL IS HERE #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo x female reader #gojo x black reader #geto x female reader #geto x y/n #geto smut #geto x black reader #geto suguru #satoru gojo #jjk x poc!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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yanderelovebites · 5 months ago

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Back with batsis stuff and kinda wanna do the whole isekai thing. Have reader meet their end somehow and wake up in a fanfic that was never finished of a neglected batsis. Have them wake up at the incident that made them get sent over to Bruce.

Have the original girl’s memories and knowing already they didn’t like her, didn’t want her, etc. she decided to just live for herself and future. Girlie went with her father who gave her that initial attention but after that she was taken to her room. She’s six. Have her give that grieving period of two weeks where she just got used to the room and the manor before she started asking for things. It’ll be probably one form of martial arts and later on probably also either music or dance. When she isn’t doing either of those things she sketching in her book and she’s actually really good.

Have her be closest with Alfred but still keep a certain wall up against him just like the others. Have her be a few months older than Damian and Damian isn’t quite in the picture yet. She ignores when the others are in the house despite being a part of said home. She only looks for her father for school needs and while still keeping her distance will set birth cards and Father’s Day cards on his desk in the study. She never hands them to him so she doesn’t know what he does with them nor does she care.

If the character she is reborn as is meant to be neglected, why should she bother trying to reach out?

She eventually had no choice but to meet Jason because he was there… they didn’t know how to explain to her why red hood is there. She simply said “Hello, I would chat but I have Jujitsu in 20 so I have to leave. Nice meeting you.” It was concerning how she brushed it off. Of course she realizes after ‘oh none of them would know I know… nah I’ll just continue on. Who knows, it might bother them!’

By the time Damian gets there, she’s been through karate, jujitsu, and only a year of Taekwondo while also taking dancing/music lessons. She has won art competitions but only Alfred has ever seen or heard. Bruce may have heard but he barely listened to the announcement of it. He knows from a portrait she was forced to sit for with Bruce, Tim, and Dick, she exists. Yet, it takes a week for him to ever see her.

He asks questions like in the original, but what batsis reader doesn’t understand is she changed how Damian sees her since she wasn’t immediately clingy to anyone. Dick TRIES to remember anything and realizes he doesn’t really know her. Tim can’t really tell him anything either other than medical records in case anything happens. Literally all Tim gave Damian was that Damian and batsis have the say blood type. They realize they really don’t know batsis which does unnerve them. All they can say is she stays to herself. That both irritates Damian and intrigued him. He tries Alfred next who is able to at least tell him what she does routinely at least. How she’s been in martial arts after her first two weeks living here, implied she was grieving, and she’s also been in music/dance lessons as well. Also explains she enjoys participating in art contests. He goes on about her being an A+ student and explains she doesn’t interact much with the rest of the family. He even says “To be honest, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she talks to in any capacity that isn’t out of necessity.”

Jason pretty much only knew about one of the martial arts being jujitsu. He explains she didn’t seem phased that red hood had entered her home and that she didn’t know about the Batman secret.

He doesn’t immediately approach her either. He doesn’t have all the information he needs. All he knows is she’s his half sibling, her usual activities, at least one of the forms of martial arts she knows, and that otherwise she’s a bit of a mystery. Eventually they’re forced to eat at a family dinner together. Since it really bothered Dick that he didn’t know anything he starts asking her about school. No one ever asked her questions, half the time they act like she isn’t there, so she’s confused, but politely says it’s been fine. Talks briefly about her classes, the mention of what classes she’s currently taking makes Tim and Dick shocked. For Tim it’s simply the fact that *she* was taking them and for Dick it’s the fact someone her age was taking such advance classes. Tim coughed and asked her what she did after school on Friday, mostly to hear anything else and she’s like “Oh just another art competition. I placed first with my painting.” She says and continues eating.

Bruce honestly is trying to process what he heard and saw and Damian treats it as a way to analyze her. The way she eats, the way she talks, her posture, and of course the tiny bits the boys were getting out. She then says “I’m sure Alfred has already told you about that, however, right father?” He coughs for a moment and nods as to hide the fact he himself has been caught off guard. For Damian she isn’t like a role model for what he’s grown up with, it’s more she’s a role model for what a Wayne is. She’s perfect in all things you’d expect the public to see a Wayne for. Knows arts, has some martial arts background, and has a certain air of modesty yet wealthy around her.

This attention to her is still brief at this time for Tim, Dick, and Bruce. They ask if she’s met Damian and she says “Not really, at best some glances. I’m always moving after all.” That dinner felt awkward, but Damian decided she wasn’t Particularly a threat…

And by all things holy it annoys the crap out of Tim. He actually tries to speak to her—which she is cautious at first because she knows what he did to the original Batsis. Instead of drawing his sword on her, he asked about her martial arts since that’s really all he can… talk about with her… and the part that annoys Tim on it… is simply he won’t shut up about her-

And he thought when Damian called himself the blood son was annoying! Now it’s ’blood sibling’ this and that if bringing her up in conversation occurs. It’s clear he respects her in such annoying ways.

I just imagine the Yandere Batfam doesn’t all happen at once. It starts with Damian. You don’t see it at first because you blame his upbringing. He’s stuck to your side during banquets as much as he despises them. He mirrors some of your ‘mask’ etiquette in that all the Wayne’s have an image. You kept yours on as rock solid as possible, you are not the same person. He can tell you must have some inspiration from your father as yours is a rather innocent persona. You act like a social butterfly amongst the people and seem so damn sweet. He just doesn’t like how many eyes are on you. You acted like you couldn’t feel it, but it’s hard to ignore Damian. In fact, it accidentally wentinti his persona as people saw him as a clingy little brother to his slightly older sister. That it just made ‘sense’ since you two are so close in age.

Damian would just get worse as time went on. It’s get to the point you realize he isn’t faking or anything he actually just likes you. Then you get kidnapped.

I imagine no one but Alfred and Damian realize something is wrong. He’s the reason they find you and he nearly kills the guy who kidnapped you. Of course it’s not like you just let them take you, there was evidence even before they were brought to an inch of their life. You hadn’t made it easy and they could tell you had injured them beforehand. However they had broken your legs and that’s when I’d get worse for Damian and start in Bruce.

I might add more thoughts later I dunno it’s kind of an idea dump

#batfam neglect #batfam x batsis #batman #batsis!reader #yandere batfam #batsis #yandere #damian wayne

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thoughtsfromb4 · 8 months ago

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The Tenacity Of Hope

Now, in this land, in times beyond our forefathers,

Beyond those who were first and merely squatters–

Those who crossed the Delaware’s frozen waters,

Those brought and sold as economic fodder,

Those who charged ashore into lead breakwaters–

These people were real, not the myths some now proffer.

So in this day is it our intent to say

(As, from our ideals, we’ve now run astray)

That the reality of their truth has today

Such little value it can be cast away?

Of course, times have changed, and yet so have we,

So perhaps what we need is a reverie,

A vision of a future that can still be seen,

Free from the authoritarian political machine,

A vision for you and me–for all to see–

The path from here to where we should be,

One that can clarify and bring into view

All the types of things we all must do.

So, what should be our new vision's theme?

"Liberty or Death" or “I have a dream”?

Or something newer, a rallying call

Like the one we heard one glorious fall

When, out of nowhere, came a politician;

and I tell you what, he was on a mission,

Because this guy had devised a simple plan

The “Audacity of Hope” plus “Yes We Can.”

He made us see that what we face

Is not beyond our knowledge base,

That we have the strength to carry on

And to lay down foundations whereupon

We can build a new future–with all our hands–

And begin to enact all of the types of plans

That shepherd that future and serve to guide it

Down a path we can walk with Pride beside it.

Of course, that was then, and this is now,

So we face the eternal question: how?

How is it that we can respond to this

When so many feel things are still so amiss?

When so many people live in a world without facts

While cheering on a demagogue's authoritarian acts?

When majorities cry victim as they still oppress

Any who dare to offend the fragile views they possess?

Sadly, history shows these troubles have been seen before

Whenever bigots and despots blame the tired and poor,

So we must keep up the resistance and fight on once again,

Just as those before us who worked to move us to Now from Then.

First, we must remember that "Yes We Can"

Was simply so much more than a single man–

That rallying call was built on aspiration,

Calling out to us all as if a gauntlet thrown,

A challenge sent out to the entire nation

To earn the ideals that we claim to own.

Yes, we can meet this challenge, but to do so, we must rise

Up to meet the gaze of all those with hate within their eyes-

Just as those before us who stood up to all the tyrants of the past,

Ironclad in their convictions, hope unconstrained by class or caste.

So in this Now we must speak out, vote, and protest;

We must summon our strength of will and refuse to shrink

From the unending trials of our democratic contest

With all those who seek to push us to the brink.

For it is in all of the faces of our can-be-great nation

That we see how it is we will cope,

Showing all, through the audacity of our demonstrations,

The true Tenacity Of Our Hope.

--@thoughtsfromb4

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therookieimagines · 10 months ago

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Not that he cares..or he does..- Tim Bradford x fem!reader 3/?

Summary: You’ve been living with Tim for a few months now, and after some intense staring contests Tim’s finally ready to admit how he feels, but what happens whenever things take a spicy turn?

Warnings: SMUT AT THE ENNNND, Tim calling you a whore and slut

It had been a good month or two, you were healing great and ready to get back into policing, but with slight changes, you felt like with the feelings that were arising towards Tim after living with him for some time would get in the way of your work, so, you were transferring TOs to Harper until you could become a detective. It wasn’t that you were doing anything inappropriate with each other, you both just, shared a bed, and a room..and a closet..you were basically dating without the dating. Tim had gone back to work about three weeks ago, diving head first right into cases, but not without calling you every hour on the hour, he couldn’t help it, you had been shot, maybe it had healed now but what if something happens? Again? He had to make sure you were safe.

Tim groaned at his desk holding the phone to his ear listening for the third time as he heard your voicemail “this is y/n! Leave a message, unless your Bradford or Nolan, then just text me” he was growing irritated with every passing second. “Harper! I’m leaving to go run a personal errand, I’ll be back in twenty” he said sternly before his desk phone started to ring loudly “hello? Y/n?” He answered quickly, hunched over his desk waiting for your reply “Tim? Why are you calling me like something happened are you okay?” You asked softly, he could hear the sound of dishes clanking faintly in the background “why didn’t you answer? I thought something might’ve happened you know whenever I’m calling from work it’s a-“ you cut him off with a giggle “it’s a check-in, I know, but I was doing dishes and didn’t realize my phone was on the bed, I’m sorry, I’m okay though I swear” you reassured as you finished drying the last plate, trying to stifle your groans in pain as you reached above you to put one of Tim’s thermos’s away “hey hey, what was that? That doesn’t sound okay to me” he asked starting to bite his nails “ya know what no I’m coming home” he decided before you were quick to cut him off “Tim Bradford. Stay on your shift, criminals need you out there to ruin their fun, just like you ruin mine” you teased “I’m cleaning the apartment for us, that way we’re not dealing with any messes tonight” you explained feeling terrible Bradford had to come home and clean up after you the last couple of weeks because of your injury, he never actually minded it though, taking care of you was just like his job as a cop, he knew he was doing good, especially if it meant making sure you were happy and safe. “F-fine but..I’ll be home at 7pm sharp, got it?” You heard his voice say, you could tell he was still uneasy but you knew he’d be quickly distracted with the first call he got.

Tim was truthful on his word, the door unlocked at exactly 7pm, not a second later either, you watched as he immediately dropped his things by the door walking over to you “how’re you? Those noises you made earlier did not sound like stretching you sounded hurt, did you fall or run into something?” He asked worried, placing his hands on your shoulders examining your body “Tim, I’m fine, reaching above my head is still painful but..it’ll be alright, these things heal” you smiled patting his shoulder before sitting down “so, how’d your date go that Lucy set you up on?” You asked curiously, you knew Lucy had her own little scheme going on, you could tell the second she started asking about how you and Tim were handling living with each other. “What?- o-oh I didn’t know..you..knew..” he admitted sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly “she was..nice..definitely not my type though, she wouldn’t stop instagramming her food, like honestly why can’t people just enjoy a meal?” He ranted, you just watched him smiling as he continued on and on as he poured himself a drink “hey why aren’t..you..answering..” Tim trailed off noticing you watching him in awe “why are you watching me, you creep” he teased sitting down in the recliner not far from where you were on the couch.

“Seriously!” He groaned dropping his head “quit staring at me! It’s creepy and weird!” Tim continued setting his drink down walking over eyeing you suspiciously, you couldn’t hide your smile, you knew he wasn’t being serious, but the fact he was trying to be was adorable to you, he was doing his cop tatics on you like he would on a call, his hands firmly holding his regular belt, his glare stern and his eyes slowly clouding to a shade darker. “Ms. L/n, do I need to issue you a ticket for staring an officer of the law down?” He asked squinting his eyes “try it, I’ll take that ticket to court, officer Bradford” you smirked, the giddy smile never leaving your face once though, Tim stayed strong though, fighting every muscle in his body not to smile or laugh. “Unless..you explain yourself on why you’re staring at me?” He offered crossing his arms, all of his known intimidation tactics “you don’t scare me, Bradford!” You laughed leaning back on the couch, only for him to take a step closer “that’s officer Bradford to you” he corrected in a stern tone “oh my gooood! Fine! I was staring because it’s calming to see someone so…brutal and scary become so laid back and relaxed” you explained, Tim scoffed playfully “when have I ever been brutal!?” He asked sitting back down, this time next to you, on the floor “uhm, my first call? They shot at us and whenever you apprehended them I saw you, that body tackle was pretty brutal” you remarked “I did what I was trained in the academy to do!” He defended, you just laughed smiling as he just shook his head at you. “I just mean that..i don’t know” you sighed letting your head fall back “you’re just..comforting to watch” you shrugged looking towards him again, this time he was the one staring, taking in everything that was you.

You both kept taking turns for at least ten minutes before finally Tim broke the silence “alright it’s killing me” he huffed leaning up onto his knee placing a hand on your cheek “over the last year and a half..y/n I’ve loved you more and more everyday” he admitted, you watched him closely nodding your head before he pressed his lips firmly against yours, you weren’t sure if you should kiss him back or pull away, he was still technically your TO. You chose to kiss back though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he slowly made his way from the floor to the couch next to you “I never realized it until the night you made the backup call..I knew you were different from my other rookies but..not like this” he whispered pulling away from your lips, much to his minds dismay. “Don’t worry, Tim..I..I love you too, even if..you’re a rude asshole sometimes..and I wanna hit you..with a baton..-“ “hey! Where did all of this brutality come from!?” He yelped leaning away from you smiling “I’m just saying! I love you despite all the times you get on my nerves” you laughed leaning closer to him attempting to peck his lips, but he just kept leaning farther and farther back until he fell onto his back on the armrest, you kept moving though, eventually hovering over his body, your hair tickling his nose lightly. “Careful, rookie.” He warned, almost like you were going into dangerous territory, you were confused up until you realized just where your hand was, right above his growing erection, resting at the waistline of his jeans. “Shit sorry” you cursed moving it to hold his hand, you were now riddled with insecurities and embarrassment, why’d you put your hand there? What if he didn’t want things this fast? Were you a whore for moving this fast with him?

Tim could see the nervousness in your eyes, he kissed you once again, squeezing your hand gently before placing it back where it was only this time a few inches lower, you could feel a knot immediately form in your stomach as you felt how big his ‘package’ really was, I mean the police slacks were good to show things off but they could only do so much, so this was a lot bigger than expectations. “You’re alright, no need to apologize” he whispered running his hands through your hair pulling your head closer to his as he pressed his lips closer to yours, using his other hand to pull you basically onto his lap, only your hips were placed on his thighs. “Look at me, are you alright with this?..” he asked raising an eyebrow “we don’t have to, you know that, l/n, I’ll never force you into anything” he reassured, you knew every word he said was the truth, anytime a call was too much for you, he’d always make sure you were okay, never forcing you to do anything you were uncomfortable with (evictions were the worst for you growing up bouncing from house to house). You never answered him though, your mind starting to race again “I-i want to..” you whispered but your brain kept going back to the same topic, the moment he sees your scar he won’t be into you as much. Tim could almost read your face like a book, you wanted to but you were conflicted with something, he studied you, trying to figure out the cause without forcing you to speak, that’s whenever he spotted one of your hands fidgeting with your shirt, pulling and twisting, rolling the fabric between your fingers as you struggled to find the words.

You didn’t need to though, Tim effortlessly lifted you carrying you towards your bedroom before gently laying you on the bed, not wanting to hurt you anymore than you had already been hurt in your life. He pulled off your shirt running his eyes up and down your torso before his eyes landed on the distinct scar on your abdomen, he slowly lowered his head resting his chin on your hip bone “this is what’s bothering you?” He asked, at first you thought he was upset, you were probably being silly right? You shouldn’t be this stuck on a stupid scar. “Hey, I’ve got em too, from my time being deployed..my time serving as an officer..in our line of work those are like our little marks of how long we’ve been working as officers” he explained, your eyes were glued to him, watching as he sighed standing up, pulling his shirt and jeans off of his body “I’ve got them, it’s alright” he whispered slowly crawling onto the bed kissing your stomach all the way up to your lips “I’ve always thought you were beautiful..” he whispered against your lips, his words and kisses slowly became more aggressive, his hands running through your hair as you grinded your pussy against his thigh. “Fucking hell” he grunted gripping a fist full of his comforter, he so badly wanted to fuck you into the bed, show you just how badly he’s wanted to fuck you since the night he gave you a ride home from your friends party. You and your friend were sober but you weren’t dressed like it, he was completely shocked at the time, that someone as modest as you during your shifts would dress in such short shorts and such a tight t-shirt, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, perfectly masking it as annoyance, he was very much hiding that fact he wanted to tell you exactly how he felt right then and there, how much he loved you and wanted you.

You took notice to Tim’s face, he was concentrated on something heavy, something that was turning his knuckles white from the sheets, as you grinded your hips yet another time that’s whenever you felt it, he was harder than he had been that whole night. “Fuck me, Bradford.” You said sternly, using a fistful of his hair to pull him down to eye level “I want you, to fuck me however you want, just, with a condom please” you asked/demanded, you could see something in his eyes flicker, almost like he had been conflicted and then made up his mind. He quickly leaned away from you, ripping your sweatpants open down the thigh, giving him perfect access to press his fingers against your clit playing with it roughly watching as your back arched, all because of him. It was fueling Tim with something he never felt before, watching you do that all over his fingers made him feel powerful and more of a man than ever “oh just wait, baby, you think this is good, just wait” he whispered biting his lip smirking, he slowly lowered his body until he was eye level with your pussy, your thighs twitching with anticipation as he blew lightly over your lace thong. “You were these just for fun..or did you have a plan to seduce an officer tonight?” He asked slowly pulling them off, he had to keep them safe, just incase he wanted to see you in them again, you bit your lip anxiously, not wanting to answer his question in fear of answering wrong and not getting the pleasure you so desperately needed.

Tim growled furrowing his eyebrows landing a harsh slap to your inner thigh, resulting in a light squeal out of you in response “answer me whenever I’m speaking to you.” He growled resting your legs on his shoulder using barely any strength to tug you to the end of the bed, his lips barely ghosting over your bare pussy. “N-no I just h-hadn’t gotten around to laundry y-yet” you whimpered, squealing whenever you felt his warm tongue leave a strip across your clit, he wasn’t finished though, using the tip of his tongue to trace figure eights around your clit. Right as you approached your climax, Tim pulled his mouth away, you whined desperately trying to pull his face back down between your legs, but he quickly grabbed your hands pinning them to the side “ah ah.” He tsked, grabbing handcuffs from his side table using them to keep your hands restrained to the side of you to the bed frame “okay how long has that clasp been there?” You asked never really noticing how quickly the bed you’ve been sleeping on for the past months turned into a sex chamber “did it whenever I first moved in, didn’t mention it to you whenever you moved in because I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable” he explained casually as he placed a condom over himself lining his cock up before pushing into you quickly, it only took a few moments before he bottomed out inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a moan as you felt his tip brush against your cervix.

Tim groaned loudly, you felt so much tighter than he thought, he couldn’t stop his hips from moving though, desperate to chase the one high, fuck the one person he’s been dying to for the last year “fuck just like that, god damnit your pussy feels great” he growled, lifting your legs over his shoulders giving himself a new angle to fuck you at. You couldn’t process everything happening, you didn’t even know Tim could be this sex experienced, you always marked him off as more of a vanilla dude, but here he was, throat around your neck gently as he slammed his cock into you so hard you knew there’d be bruising tomorrow. “Fuck! Tim please! I’m gonna cum” you begged, his grip on your throat tightened as he halted his thrusts “what the hell did you just call me, rookie?” He growled, ghosting his lips over yours “I-I’m sorry, sir” you whimpered, trying to move your hips in any way that would get you some sort of release, but Tim just held your hips down, using your pussy to his own advantage “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long, fuck it’s better than I’d hoped it would be, holy shit” he panted, you whimpered loudly, desperately pulling your shirt off, screaming out Tim’s name as he latched his lips around one of your nipples, his teeth nibbling and biting as you squirmed under him.

You could barely think straight anymore, you hadn’t ever made yourself feel this much pleasure, no toy, hand, or man ever had you like this before, and Tim made it look so easy, like it was nothing to have you basically mush in his hands. Tim’s grip on the sheets were tightening, he had abandoned holding your neck long ago, not wanting to cause you any bruising above the waist or seriously hurt you, he could feel himself about to cum but he had to hold on, he needed to know how good it feels for you to squeeze around his cock. He could tell you weren’t going to last long either, your moans and whimpers were growing a lot more high pitched and frequent and you were basically dripping onto the bed you were so wet “come on, show me how much you want it, work for it, rookie” he teased, flipping you both over watching as you desperately rode his cock, your nails scraping down his chest as he bucked his hips up to meet yours pulling away. You gasped as his fingers started attacked your clit again, this time the knot in your stomach was too tight, immediately bursting, Tim moaned loudly throwing his head back as he felt you tighten around him, your pussy throbbing desperate to get every last drop from his cock as he came deep inside of you, the condom busting rather quickly. Both of your hips didn’t stop though, Tim’s just got rougher “god damnit your pussy feels so amazing, fuck” he cursed, you felt as he quickly got hard again inside of you, this time you felt every twitch and thrust, you were highly sensitive now and Tim was hungrier now for your second climax. He showed no mercy as he repeatedly pulled out only to push right back into you bottoming out, flipping you onto your stomach so he could lift your hips into the air, fucking you deeper, you swear you could feel his cock poking the inside of your stomach he was so deep, but he just kept going, wrapping his hand around your neck to pull your bare back against him, his lips ghosting over your ear “cum for me, rookie, wanna see that tight pussy squeeze my cock, like the desperate rookie you are” he spat, it just made you hotter, the way he talked down to you always did something to you, the way he had little regard over your feelings sometimes but then would turn around and care so much about you if anything happened.

“Fuck you like that, slut? Like whenever your commanding officer calls you out for the little desperate slut that you are?” He continued pushing your face back down into the pillows, you moaned loudly trying to push your hips back into his, but he continued to fuck you at his pace, only whenever he felt your body tense did he pull out replacing his cock with his mouth, licking up any cum that dare leaked past his lips, your legs twitched trying to close to get his mouth away from your clit but he just held your legs open, continuing to lick any part of your thighs and pussy clean. “Now, I think I deserve some payment for my amazing services” he panted leaning up glancing to his still hard cock back to you “I just wanted to see how good my girl tasted” he whispered, you whimpered sealing your fate as you dropped to your knees taking his cock into your mouth, you already knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the entire thing, so you took it slow, swallowing around him as he slowly bucked his hips into your mouth. It lasted about two minutes before Tim scoffed “may I show you how it’s done, slut?” He asked, you looked up at him through your lashes, nodding, never taking his cock out of your mouth, he grunted grabbing your hair and his cock leading it down your throat “breathe. Don’t stop breathing just breathe throw it” he coached, his tone no longer rough but more of caring, not wanting to see you choke (but secretly a little). As he nearly bottomed out you gagged around him, causing him to stumble slightly, stabilizing himself with your shoulders, he quickly thrusted into your mouth, sending his cock back down the back of your throat, remembering his words you moaned around him, his pace picking up, and his grip on your hair tightening before you felt a warm liquid shoot down your throat and pool in your cheeks as he pulled out, smirking as he slightly ran his tip over your lips leaving a coating of cum for you to lick clean. “Such a good girl” he whispered kneeling down to meet you “let’s get in the shower-“ you cut him off with a tired whine in protest, your legs felt like jelly and you were not about to stand in the shower for 30-45 minutes, no way. “Okay then let’s get in a bath, clean up, and we can watch this new true crime show I found, seems like something you’d be into” he shrugged, you smiled softly, even after calling you a desperate slut, he had already had a movie planned for afterwards “I guess…only if…you leave your shirt off..” you agreed using his hand to help yourself stand, Tim quick to stand to help stabilize you as he walked you to the bathroom “what is up with you and me being shirtless, l/n?” He asked as he helped you sit down next to the tub, allowing him to lean over to turn the water on and plug the drain “I dunno..you’re just..really nice to look at” you smirked giggling, before you knew it you were uncontrollably giggling “now what?” Tim asked, not being able to contain his smile as he watched you lean against the wall for support “I’m sorry! It’s just..we just..had sex!..” you whisper-yelled giggling loudly “seriously!? Are you a child or something!?” He laughed as he helped you into the warm bath, your muscles almost immediately relaxing as he slid in behind you, pulling you back to lean against his chest.

“I love you, y/n..and I know..with our jobs..but we can figure it out..right?” He asked softly, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, you leaned back resting your cheek on his shoulder “we can..and we will..” you whispered, reassuring him before placing a gentle kiss on his jawline and turning back around to face the faucet, letting Tim start to rinse your hair out.

Part 4 lovelies? Or start getting some one shots out there?

#officer tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #Tim Bradford smut #Tim Bradford x reader smut #the rookie #the rookie imagines #the rookie abc #Tim Bradford imagines #Tim Bradford one shots

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shiny-jr · 3 months ago

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THE CREATOR: chapter one

– Summary: In the Land of Rune, an emperor is unmatched in magic. In a world where one's survival and standing were dependent on magic, you had gotten accustomed to being at the very bottom of the food chain. For being a magicless servant, you could not expect change.

That is, until you discover you are a creator. The rarest type of witch that was previously hunted to near-extinction. The power comes with the ability to create life itself, but it comes at a great cost.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Female reader.

– Note: Yes, this is an original series. Uncompleted, but there, and I do plan to hopefully finish it one day. Will I continue to post this series here? I'm not sure.

– Pages: 7

chapter i | chapter ii

ONE FINAL SUNDAY

The worst day of the month was the final Sunday. Every other Sunday was a day of respite to prepare for the long tiring week that stretched again, but not the final Sunday.

Final Sundays made the plaza overflow, creating a sea of living people. All temples were abandoned in preference for the arena. Hymns and holy scripture were traded for jeers and front-row tickets. Rows were jam-packed with people swimming in crowds to reach their seats. Like sardines packed in a can, people squished together side by side to make room. The stench of sweat from the summer heat couldn’t be masked by the fried goods sold along stairs climbing up and down the aisles.

Normally even the cheapest ticket would be far out of her price range, about a year’s salary for a spot where the view wasn’t even decent. Where the contestants in the rink would look like tiny ants in a field. People from across the land traveled just to watch the show, and for most it was a dream to see it live at least once in their lifetime.

This was her fifth time sitting in the front row. Normally she was accompanied, but today (Y/n) would be sitting alone squished between a well-dressed aristocrat who’s umbrella provided partial shade and the General on her opposite side.

“(Y/n).” The woman greeted curtly, with a nod of her head instead of a welcoming smile. She had never once seen the frigid woman with hair as white as snow and thin eyes as cold as ice ever smile before. Seldom did she even grace the public with an appearance. Even sitting beside her, she could feel the dozens of eyes from surrounding aristocrats close enough to spot her, watching the woman beside her closely.

Although the General had intimidated her since their very first meeting, the younger woman still managed a smile. Normally, a girl of her status should never be rubbing elbows with such an esteemed figure, but it was the final Sunday. Anything could happen. “Hey, General Pranos. I didn’t expect to see you! You never come to these sort of events.”

General Pranos sat as rigid as a stone statue, and as immovable as one. With her hands folded in her lap, she gazed out at the long extensive surface of the center below. “Normally I wouldn’t, but I’d like to see the results of this particular match firsthand.”

That made sense. To be a chosen contestant on the final Sunday, was an honor, so long as someone could defeat another who wished for the same glory. Winning meant serving as an honorary member of the Emperor’s own personal guard, which was a highly valued role in society because only the best were worthy of such a highly esteemed position.

“Is the Emperor watching…?” (Y/n) discreetly scanned the highest stands and seats closest to the arena, searching for his unmistakable figure. To win a final Sunday match was one thing, but to win one with the Emperor actually in attendance, would be a tremendous honor even to someone equal to the status of General Pranos.

No matter how long she searched, there was no sign of him. Close enough to speak without raising her voice above the crowd, Pranos answered calmly without taking her eyes off the arena walls where the contestants would emerge. “No doubt.” Never once did her eyes leave the entrances in the walls of the arena. She waited like a feline stalking a mouse, waiting for it to poke its tiny nose out of a crevice. “Cenra is Emperor Desire’s own pupil. Of course he will be watching her magical advancements very closely.”

Magical. It felt like she stressed the word purposefully. “Right, right…”

The reason as to why (Y/n)’s least favorite day was Sunday, was because the final Sunday was to honor all magic users, they had the privilege of partaking should they ever choose. While not everyone was worthy enough to even step onto the arena, everyone had a chance. Except her. Not that she ever wished to even step foot into what was essentially a gladiator’s ring, but it was the mere reminder that she couldn’t. Ever.

For some odd reason no one ever understood, (Y/n) never developed magic. All around her, it was there. The parents at home could, her mother was a professional potion brewer who concocted affordable medicines for their unfortunate patients, and her father was a beast tamer that worked in procuring goods directly from beasts. Professional healers insisted that nothing was wrong, but something was wrong with her. How could even the youngest children learn how to form simple night light spells in their palms or shakily manage to levitate their binkies a few inches closer, but she was over twenty years old and had never once managed a single spell in her entire life? She was the outlier.

Everyday of her life was a reminder. Asking what magic someone specialized in was like asking their age, it was an essential common question. Each time, the reactions were the same when she said none. Looks of confusion and pity, awkward apologies and intrusive questions. The looks were piercing, as if she had a defect, because a person without even an ounce of magic was simply unheard of.

No place would hire a magicless person. As if to rub it in her face, fate dangled opportunity in front of her nose. The only one who would offer her work was the palace, where she ultimately ended up as servant to Cenra, a magical prodigy. And yet, (Y/n) could never hate her dear friend, but it was difficult to not be jealous. Cenra was so gifted that she was Emperor Desire’s prodigy; she was rumored to be a rare type of witch, a creator just like the emperor, the likes of which hasn’t been seen in decades.

And now here she was, waiting for the fight to begin, a duel where she would witness her friend take on the challenge to become a knight. For years, since she was sixteen, (Y/n) stood beside Cenra. For every morning Cenra overslept due to pouring over scrolls and ancient texts for hours at night, her servant shook her awake before she could be late. For every training exercise where Cenra received injuries, her servant was there to bandage her wounds. For every time Cenra felt as if she would scream and lash out from the stress, her servant was there to hear her vent. If anyone deserved glory, it would be Cenra. Even the common folk knew it, as many believed she would become the very heart of the royal guards.

(Y/n) shook her head, ridding her brain of the thoughts clouding the forefront of her mind.

For the last four months, she had accompanied the witch she served to final Sunday matches. As Cenra took copious notes on techniques, type advantages, fighting styles, and countless other variables vital to a match that she didn’t particularly care to understand, (Y/n) was audience to contestants ripping into each other like ravenous wolves. Sundays are meant to be peaceful, but final Sundays could quickly become a bloodbath if the participants are equally savage. Another reason she hated Sunday.

That first month an arrogant redhead had tricked her opponent into thinking she was weak, and upon being stabbed, she solidified her own spilt blood to impale her victim. In the second month, a small uncommon shadow being used force fields to bubble their opponent until they suffocated. At the third match, a blonde beast tamer with a rare wyvern very nearly allowed her pet to devour her enemy, but only stopped when there was begging for mercy. And just last month, an oracle had won simply by predicting and dodging every move until she made a fatal strike in turn. All the victors were granted the right to directly serve Emperor Desire in his elite forces.

Interrupting her thoughts once again were deafening cheers that erupted throughout the arena, as people all looked and pointed at the very top of the arena behind her. In the highest stands where many nobles preferred it as it was further from the rabble, stood Emperor Desire. The Emperor was recognizable anywhere. Dressed in all black, with heavy armor shoulder pads and a black cloak that flowed behind him swirling like a void. Over his face he wore the coal-colored signature mask of the great creator, a bird with a curved beak.

Even in her years working at the palace, the Emperor remained an enigma. Like an apparition, he could be at one event and gone the next moment, never making appearances without good reason. Always, always, he kept up appearances, dressed like death and ready for battle, even if there hadn’t been a war in nearly a century. With a single raised hand, he silenced the crowd as he sat down. That was the emperor, the man who taught her dear friend, and who citizens would lay their life down for.

When a hush fell over the crowd, he lowered his hand and gave a nod to the speaker in the very middle of the arena. General Pranos glanced at her as they both shifted to face forward, gesturing to the sight of Emperor Desire sitting on high as if saying see? He came.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the Final Sunday of the Pearl!––”

(Y/n) began to zone out, not paying much attention to the words being spoken and spread throughout the entire space. It was all praise, introductions, speeches, that turned to gibberish which went in one ear and right out the other. Her gaze remained honed in on the dirt of the arena, until movement caught her eye and the crowd roared even louder.

The first to walk out is Cenra Uza, the witch from the capital. Each strand was in place, braided into neat locs that went from brown to strawberry blonde where it puffed out at the ends. Despite the small black bow at the back of her skull, she looked deadly. Even if she walked without a tome and without a weapon, anyone in the middle of that arena was far more than just deadly.

Her eyes appeared to scan the rows as she walked, row by row. When her eyes landed on her servant, a familiar face in a sea of strangers and during such a monumental moment in her life, she instantly beamed and her nose crinkled when she smiled. Raising her hand in a delicate wave, even with all the resounding cheers of excitement (Y/n) could make out the movement of her lips as the witch mouthed: hi.

(Y/n) clapped her hands together, sending an encouraging smile her way as she waved in return. Well wishes and prayers for good luck were useless when she already knew what the outcome would be. Everyone knew how this would end. At this point it was more of a formality that she partake in Final Sunday. There were more feelings of pity for her opponent, whomever they may be, instead of concern for the witch.

The delight on Cenra’s face as she met her gaze, twisted into genuine surprise as her eyes wandered to the imposing black figure in the high stands behind her servant. The smile on her face quickly vanished, pulling over a stoic mask. No doubt it was because she had spotted her master, Emperor Desire, looking down over the bowl-shaped arena.

On the opposite end of the wall, in entered the other magic user that would be vying for the win. It was a rather plain looking young man, with shaggy brown hair, an impressive build, and the greenest eyes she had ever seen. For some reason she couldn’t place, he looked ever so slightly familiar. Perhaps she had passed him once or twice in town. Over his sleeve was a crest tied by a ribbon, a sign of his family lineage. “Is that a noble…?” She inquired quietly, hoping that her question was picked up by the General. General Pranos would have knowledge on all the nobility, knowledge which (Y/n) never bothered memorizing even when she was practically flittering among them whenever she trailed behind Cenra at frivolous and pointless balls.

“Yes, he’s an invocationer.” Pranos folded her arms and crossed one leg over the other as she sat straight in her seat. No doubt she was taking mental note of everything, from the clothes they wore to the tools they brought to the brawl.

An invocationer, an uncommon type of magic user who specialized in controlling a single element or multiple, so likely the son of a nobleman with a long lineage that could be traced back to a creation made at the hand of witches and wizards like Cenra Uza and Emperor Desire. The enemy in the ring was a descendant of mystical beings made purely of the elements, the sort of which only a creator could ever summon. It was said they and their masters used to be quite prevalent centuries ago, but now the only four creators left in the world were Cenra, the Emperor, and his two closest allies General Pranos and Advisor Livisus. As for a creation, one of those mythical beings, one hasn’t been summoned in over a hundred years. Cenra was expected to one day bring about a new one.

There was a chance she had passed this particular invocationer whenever the noble families congregated, but she was never once acknowledged by him. If she had, she couldn’t recall the exact moment it might’ve happened.

“This is the best challenge they can present?” The General sneered, as if she was looking at a miserable rodent scuttering underfoot. To her, he probably was. But to be fair, most people were insignificant in her eyes when judged by magic alone.

(Y/n) managed a bit of a quiet and awkward laugh, brief but it was hard not to feel for him. “Give him a break. It’s not like many would be willing considering who they’d have to face. I think it’s brave of him.”

“You’re supporting the wrong side.” A pointed response.

There was no time to respond, because once the announcer was out of the way and the pop of a magic spell broke the silence. In an instant, the once empty and flat surface of the arena became encased in greenery and dirt like a terrarium. Sprouting greens grew in weaving lines like a snake itching to strangle with vines and levitating boulders flew with near-precision, just barely missing his opponent each and every time. If the invocationer could use both plant and earth magic with ease, then he must’ve been an esteemed dual-wielder. The only reason the match wasn’t already over was because his opponent was Cenra Uza.

When a vine managed to snag around her waist, locking her arms against her torso, she stumbled on her feet but quickly caught herself. In the blink of an eye, she was gone. Teleportation magic, her speciality. It was a difficult one which usually required the assistance of a staff, but she perfected the spell and claimed it as her own. When she had teleported a few yards away from the plant that had snagged her, she managed to rip off the vines that remained on her torso. It allowed her to dodge the massive boulders hurled at her. One moment she was there, blink and she’s gone and on the other side, blink again and she’s elsewhere. The only traces of her were a black elongated shadow which created a blur whenever she vanished.

Somehow (Y/n) resisted the urge to yell out, knowing that even if she warned her of incoming attacks, it would only distract her. So all she could do was grip her seat, wincing and biting down on her tongue to stop any gasps for whenever a vine or a boulder got too close for comfort.

Beside her, General Pranos remained unflinching, watching with her nose lifted up and her cold gaze peering below. Turning around, she could see the Emperor sitting in the stand, as still as a statue. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak, and it was impossible to tell what he could’ve possibly been thinking with that mask.

Sucking in a breath as her sights are returned to the match in front of her, “Poor guy…”

At this rate, it was obvious to everyone in the arena that Cenra was prolonging the battle, toying with her enemy. With her teleportation magic, she closed the distance until they were only feet away trading blows. The witch evaded each hit, disappearing before she could be stricken. Her own strikes with a dagger were blocked by rocks but because she moved so fast, the invocationer was swiftly being overwhelmed.

The magicless girl squeezed her eyes shut, turning away just in time to avoid witnessing the spray of blood that drove the mass into an uncontrolled frenzy. There was no need for flashy magic, just simple spells and technique along with a trusty old weapon. There’s the sickening squelch of a dagger through flesh and blood, but (Y/n) doesn’t dare to look or risk losing her lunch.

Magic was the basis for everything in this world. It was everywhere, in the air and in the earth. It was prevalent in everyday life. The strong wield it like a breath of life, as all attempt to hone their skill in hopes they may achieve mastery over it. Until the end of her life, she would remain subservient to magic users. For (Y/n) there was nothing to improve, nothing to master, and no hope for change.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere series #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #the creator

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conclover · 13 days ago

Text

Mr. Tenna x GN! Reader | Static Hearts Part 1

Next chapter

Summary: Just a weird dreamcore fanfic with the lovely Mr. Tenna from Deltarune.

Warnings: This turned out to have more of a sexual undertone than I thought it would. So, just in case: +18. Yandere if you squint your eyes.

Notes: Yet another pathetic old man for the collection <3

Word count: 2K

The room was dim, lit only by the colorful flickering glow of the old television. You were slouched deep into the couch, barely able to grasp anything since it was almost 2:15 a.m. The only energy you had left was just enough to flip through channels, searching for something either interesting enough to keep you awake or dull enough to finally lull you to sleep.

CLICK.

“Mom, I love this dress. I don’t care what you say. This is the dress of my dreams—”

CLICK.

“He was a normal guy. Very caring with everyone in the neighborhood. How could we have possibly known he was a—”

CLICK.

“And then we take our dough that’s rested for at least two hours, and we—”

CLICK.

“Tired of scrubbing those impossible stains? From blood to any other type of—!”

Your thumb paused. Weird.

CLICK.

“Who killed them?”

The audio glitched for a second.

“W̸͈͉̜̏ḧ̸̢̧̻̥͐̉̇̐ò̸̫̱̠́̌͝ͅ ̶̡̥̹̟͊̉͆͠w̴̰̤̔̆̍ą̴͓̞͎̌̉s̵̩͙͉̭͛͋̆͂ ̵̧̼̪̳̄ȋ̶̩́̉t̶͈̠͍̃?̶̟̖̹̙̓̅͛͑͠ ”

A high pitched whine cut through the room.

“W̶̗͖͈̑̈́̏͠A̷̛͚͖͕Ş̵͖̜̖̮̃̂͒ ̸̡̲̪̟̀͊Ĩ̸̯̻͍̻̈̀̂͜͝T̴͎̍͘͘ ̸̟̙̰̪͛Ÿ̶̡̳̥̯̗͆̈́͠Ö̶͕̖̦̠͊̄̑̈́U̴͓̦͇̾?̷̨̧̼̭̾̌̓ͅ ”

Then, silence.

You blinked, suddenly more awake. The haze in your head cleared just enough to realize something wasn’t right.

“Alone on a Friday night?” a chipper voice echoed from the television, though it was warped, barely cutting through the thick hiss of static.

Your breath caught as your vision tunneled.

“Me too!”

The static wasn’t only on the screen anymore. It was around you, inside you, crackling at your fingertips. You could feel it everywhere, surrounding you.

You tried to move and tried to reach for the remote. But the static cocooned you, with its warm electricity, wrapping itself tight around your body and thoughts.

“Now, now... Don’t change the channel... we’re just getting started…”

The voice coiled around you like a soft blanket, whispering straight to the back of your mind. It was comforting in a way that felt too precise, like it knew you. Like it knew exactly how to speak to you.

It smoothed over your fear and pulled you gently toward the edge. And as the static wrapped around you like a warm blanket against your skin, you let your eyes slip shut and surrendered to the voice.

...

Darkness.

That’s all you remember. Not how you got here. Not how long it’s been.

“Ladies and germs!”

A voice sliced through your thoughts, bright, sharp, too close. It caught your attention without even trying, like it was wired into your nerves.

“Let’s have a big round of applause for our lovely contestant!”

A crowd erupted around you, if you could call them a crowd. Their shapes were odd, all teeth, horns and shadows. Demons, maybe. Or something worse. But they cheered like this was their favorite part of the night.

You blinked, your body suddenly lighter, more alert, like the energy of the place was crawling under your skin.

“Where the fuck am I?” you asked, your voice oddly clear, stronger than it should’ve been.

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

Color exploded across your vision. Neon lights pulsed. Spinning signs hung from nowhere. Glittering confetti surrounded you. It looked like something out of a retro game show from a fever dream. It was probably a quiz show, if someone had built it from dead channels and nightmares.

But where was the host?

“Oh, you’re too funny,” he said, voice twice as odd than the crowd cheering.

He was closer now, his voice curling in your ear like heat.

“You’re on the show, of course!”

Gloved hands slipped around your shoulders, firm and gentle, fingertips pressing just a little too long against your collarbone as he leaned in.

“Mmm. There we go,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. “Center stage suits you!”

He guided you forward slowly, almost like a dance, his body brushing lightly against yours as he walked you to the podium.

The podium gleamed under the spotlight, elegant and ominous. Below it, a nameplate. Your name. Already there. Etched in with the kind of certainty that sent a chill up your spine.

“Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. This is your moment. I know you can do it…”

His voice was smooth as velvet, reassuring almost. His fingers ghosted along the small of your back, just long enough to make your breath hitch.

Then he stepped in front of you and for the first time, you saw him fully.

He had no eyes, but his smile was expressive enough to speak in paragraphs. And his head... it was a literal television!

This has to be a dream.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured, trailing a single gloved finger along your jaw.

You grabbed his gloved hand, not to push him away, but to demand an explanation for all of this. But he only smiled, gently slipping from your grip to begin the show.

Now he was standing across the stage, perfectly lit by a snapping spotlight, as if he’d always belonged there. The crowd erupted again as he twirled his microphone with lazy, practiced flair. He soaked in the attention like he was born for the spotlight.

You turned to the microphone in your own podium, hoping maybe speaking would wake you up from whatever the fuck was this.

“Hey,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “I have a question—”

Before you could finish, the host raised a single finger, his TV screen face focused sharply on you.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we’d swapped roles,” he said, flipping casually through a set of cue cards that hadn’t been there a second ago. “Next time you’ve got original ideas, darling, feel free to spring them on me right in the middle of the show. That’s the perfect time.”

H̴̛͙͖̖̦̯̮̘̿̚À̵̡̧̟̪̪̻̹̺͔͈̥̫̼͙̆̋̿͒̓̈́̈̇̀̌͋̒̌́H̸̨͚̥̭̱̳̺̬̰̹̥͔̅̓͑̌̾̍͑͆͐̕͜Ȁ̴̘̩̞͚̭̏̆̍̅̈̒͋H̴̢̡͉̘̲̖̙̭͇͈̃̈́̋̽̎͛̀͝͝A̵̙̼̻̣̗̰͈͛͗̒͒͆̀̆͝ͅH̵̢̧͚̮̦̤͇̤͇̞͔͊̉Ḁ̶̰̜̜͇̖̤͙̖̗̀H̴͙̫̗̟̗̝̮̯̒͛̊́̏̔͛̃̍̕͘͘͝Ą̶͎̩̣̼̺͎̼̻̻͈̫͇͎̦́̃͌́̎̀̾̉͋̽̌͋Ḥ̴̨̧̝͇̭̦̞̌̽͊͋̃̋͋̂ͅẮ̷̧̮̻̻̪͖̝̰̥̑͠H̶̢̨̩̰͕̭͈͍̫̱̚ͅĀ̴̢͍̼̙͚̐͝Ḩ̸̨̧͇̪̝̗̬̳͚̲̤̖͛́̈̓͘͘͜A̶̛͖̪̺̤͕̒̿̈̉̈́̊̂͜͠H̴̡̛̛͔̺̙̤͖̿̔̿̀̎̾̃̅͗̐A̵̪̫̩̓̾̓̐̐͂̚͝Ḥ̷͖͓̗̖̳̹̪̱̙̙͉̰̱̈́͋̅̔̔͜Ả̴̬̇̆̆̑̂̇

“First question, cutie. What is the name of this show’s host?”

His voice rang out playfully, echoing across the set. The screen behind him glitched slightly, displaying four answer choices, each one flickering in that old school game show font.

A) MR. TV GUY

B) MR. LIL’ NOSE

C) MR. TENNA

D) MR. EMAIL

The lights dimmed, the demons went silent and his smile widened.

You stared at answers, unsure if you were supposed to laugh or run. None of them made any sense, but one of them felt just plausible enough.

“Mr... Tenna?”

You hovered your hand over the button, then pressed it down.

A chime sounded, loud and triumphant.

The host, Mr. Tenna, lit up like someone had just proposed to him on live television.

“Ohhh, you sweet thing! How did you know?” he cried, clapping his hands with delight, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

He spun in place, his red suit catching the light, with a smirk that practically dripped from the edge of the screen.

“Next question! Pay attention, darling.”

Mr. Tenna brought the cue card closer to his screen like face, squinting theatrically as if struggling to read it, though of course, he had no eyes.

“What is Mr. Tenna’s biggest... fear?”

A) Loneliness.

B) Being forgotten.

C) No one loves him.

D) Betrayal.

“Stop. Don’t answer.”

Mr. Tenna’s smile froze. Then, just for a second, the screen that was his face went blank. Completely lifeless. His shoulders slouched. Arms limp. Static buzzed faintly in the silence.

“You know what?” he said suddenly, snapping back to life, posture upright, voice sparkling with renewed enthusiasm. “I actually loved your enthusiasm!”

Without warning, he tossed his cue cards high into the air like confetti. They fluttered down in slow motion, catching the stage lights like paper snow. He strode toward you with a spring in his step, that same feverish energy returning to his every movement.

“My enthusiasm?” you asked, voice a little smaller than before.

“Uh-huh,” he cooed, clasping his hands together with something disturbingly close to adoration.

A faint blush glowed across the lower corners of his screen, making his appearance oddly endearing and almost charming.

Tenna turned, glancing offstage, though there was no visible place like that, just darkness.

“Mike, bring the polygraph!”

His voice rang out with the giddy excitement of someone hosting a game they’d waited centuries to play.

Somewhere in the shadows, something began to stir and just like that Mr. Tenna vanished.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, my dear,” his voice cooed softly, suddenly right against your ear. “This won’t hurt a bit. It’s just for fun.”

Before you could react, you felt gloved hands slip around your waist. They moved with urgency, moving up your torso to fasten a strange belt just above your chest. Cool metal brushed your skin as electrodes were carefully pressed to your fingertips. He gently guided your hand back onto the podium, holding it down for a moment longer than necessary.

“Just be sure not to move...” he whispered, voice dipping into something lower, almost dangerous, “...as it could affect your results negatively.”

The last thing he placed on you was a blood pressure cuff. He cinched it tighter than it needed to be, enough to make a point. And you weren’t in much of a position to complain.

Then his warm lips hovered by your ear.

“Oh, and one more thing... I want sincere answers. Am I clear?”

You nodded carefully, trying not to shift too much beneath the wires and straps.

His gloved hand cupped your face with an unsettling gentleness, and without warning, he gave your cheeks a soft, playful squeeze.

“Good contestant!” he chirped, like he was praising a pet.

“Let’s continue then,” Tenna said smoothly, turning on his heel with a little flourish.

He strolled back toward the screen, not to far, but still close enough to watch you.

“With my very special, improvised questions crafted just for our star contestant...” he purred, spreading his arms like a magician about to pull a dove out of a hat.

He stepped closer again, until his screen was just inches away from your face. His glow bathed your skin in soft static. You didn’t move, couldn’t. You simply tried to breathe, to brace yourself for whatever came next.

“Where do you want to be right now?” he asked, voice softer this time, almost curious.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, like he was scanning you.

A) ON THE TV!

B) IN MY HOUSE???

C) ON THE BACKSTAGE ALONE WITH MR. TENNA.

D) CLAPPING AMONG THE CROWD.

Your heart told you one thing. Your nerves another. But Tenna... he was watching you closely. So you swallowed hard and pressed the button for A.

“Yes! Excellent choice. You’re telling me the truth,” he gasped, clapping his hands together like a delighted host with his favorite contestant. “But you know…”

He turned slightly toward the audience, voice dipping into a conspiratorial purr.

“I would’ve also accepted C.”

Tenna glanced back at you, his smile flashing with the glow of his screen.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you...”

He took a slow step closer, then another, until his presence practically buzzed against your skin. A gloved hand slipped casually around your waist, fingers resting there like he had every right.

“Let’s make this more difficult.”

He turned his head just enough to gesture toward the glowing screen, then brought his face back to yours, closer now, watching for the tiniest twitch in your expression.

The question appeared behind him: who have you been longing for?

A) Elnina and Lanino. They come in the same pack.

B) My ex.

C) Mike.

D) Mr. Tenna!

Oh my. How did I get myself into this?

You couldn’t tell if the audience was laughing or glitching. Either way, Tenna was grinning.

“Oh, how spicy,” he said, his voice practically brimming with joy. “I love these kinds of questions. They put the contestants right under the spotlight where they belong.”

He gestured upward, and in an instant, a searing beam of light dropped down on you, hotter than before.

“Now then. Tell us, sweetheart...” he said, his voice lowering in your ear like a secret. “Who has your heart been aching for?”

The light above you seemed to burn a little, or maybe that was just the flush creeping up your neck.

“We’re dying to know.”

You swallowed before answering.

“Mr. Tenna.”

He froze. Not with fear, but with intrigue. You’d answered so quickly, and that alone seemed to catch him off guard. The edges of his smile wavered just slightly, like a corrupted frame struggling to hold itself together.

“I don’t know anyone,” you continued, voice quiet. “Except for you.”

You looked up at him, as if expecting him to stop this nonsense. But he didn’t. If anything, your vulnerability lit him up even more.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he stammered, his voice losing some of its usual smoothness, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Careful what you confess in front of a live audience.”

“Ahem... Next question.” He tried to sound more authoritative, but his voice came out softer, like he was still trying to collect himself.

He quickly grabbed some cue cards from the floor, flipping them over a little too fast, his fingers trembling just enough to betray his nerves.

“Okay, okay…” He muttered to himself as he scanned the questions. “Who would you choose... if you had to kiss someone... in this room?”

A̴̛͚̬̙̗̳̭̅̔̊̀́͗̈́̄̈́̃̇A̴̞͍̫̹̣͖̮̗̠̳͖͔͂̈́́̑͜A̶̹͇̯̝̰͎̣̯̅̾̽́̈̓̅̇͗̆͋̀͘̕͝Ą̷̻̘̝̥̱̪̯̗̮͕̩̳͒̍́͛̋̊̈́͊͂̀͘̕A̶̜͓̾̉̆̈̑̎̊͂͗̎͘A̶̛̼͖̜͖͔͇͇̼͚̖͎̎̊̅͗́̈́̒̆́̎̾͐̓̈Ȃ̸̢̡̨̮̮͓̱̟̹̤̘̼̬̙͗̍̈́̃̑͆͝Ă̶̙̈͑́́̉́̊͘Ą̶̢̧̲̟̫̟̝͔̱͉̲̭̜͗̑̋̄̄͂̿̈́̄̽͐̈́̚A̶̛̭͍͍̞͈̬̻͈̱̱̲͎̍́̈́ͅA̷̳̟̠̞͔̦̒̆̂́͋͊̕A̴̰͍̪͆̐̔̀͆̈͐̂̑̀̃̽͘͝͝Ẁ̷̗̼̭͙͓̦͈͕̘̠͊W̵̠͈̮͛̕͝Ŵ̵̨̗͕͖̣̺̘͍̞̓̇͆̌͒̃̑̽͠Ẇ̸̪̝̺͊̒̉́ͅW̴̡̨͙̖̬̰̱̟̪̠͙͔̒̈́͊͊͌̿̑̔͗

Then, looking back at you, his smile reappeared, but it was a little more strained now, corners twitching with a nervous energy.

“Just kidding! Just kidding! It’s a silly ques—”

“Mr. Tenna,” you said quickly, already understanding the game, already seeing how this would unfold.

Tenna’s expression faltered. His smile flickered briefly, like he was processing the answer but didn’t quite know how to handle it.

“Oh, dear,” he breathed, his hand sliding to his collar and tugging it as if the air had suddenly grown warmer. “You sure know how to keep things interesting.”

He turned on his heel, facing the audience with a sudden flourish, clearly in desperate need of a breather.

“And with that...” he declared, still a little breathless, “...we’ll be right back after the commercial break!”

He didn’t wait for the cameras to cut. No final wink. No flashy exit. Just a quiet turn and a quick walk toward the edge of the stage. So you decided to follow him, just to get more answers.

Backstage was… bizarre. It didn’t have the chaos you would have expected for a place like this. It actually looked cozy with potted plants and comfy couches. And people. Or… something close to people.

Among them stood a curious couple that looked like they were made for each other. Like the moon and the sun, though the moon was actually... a cloud?

They noticed you staring at them and the taller one gave you a polite nod.

“You lost, love?” asked the taller one, his face oddly shiny, like he’d just returned from a luxurious vacation somewhere far too sunny for this kind of place. His smile shimmered with the same glow, just slightly too perfect to feel real.

You blinked, still stunned to be meeting these… people. Weather systems? TV spirits? You weren’t sure.

“I’m looking for Mr. Tenna,” you said cautiously. “Have you seen him?”

The other one leaned in, voice warm and breezy. “Hmm. I don’t know. He’s never left a show like that before.”

“Very rare,” the taller one added with a knowing smile. “And very cute.”

The cloudy one, her white hair subtly shifting with looping wind currents gazed lovingly at her partner.

“They have to be together or something,” she whispered to the sunny man.

You blinked surprised. “I just met this man like… ten minutes ago.”

The couple looked at eachother with an unreadable expression only they could understand. Then, in perfect sync, they lifted their arms and pointed towards a door.

“He went that way.”

...

Next chapter

#tenna deltarune #deltarune #deltarune x reader #tenna x reader #utdr #gn reader #lanino #elnina

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