#GOOD GOD I WAS COMMISSIONED BY ABS!!!!

[iznsfw]

Lucid Dream

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

8,525 words

Categories | married man!You, wife!Wonyoung, daddy kink, degradation, rough sex, OC is not a good person

Content warning | cheating, humiliation, Wonyoung slander (it hurt to write but I read "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn recently so I guess that went into the whole wife-hating thing)

Skipping again a bit (still will do Chaeyeon and Chaewon and everyone because IZ*ONE best girls). Expect a commission and an IZ Days of Xmas fics this month again <3 I love you all, you make me happy. And as always, sorry for the inconsistency!

Wonyoung is beautiful.

You stare at her as she undresses in front of the full-length mirror. She’s the kind of woman whose vanity seldom rolls eyes because her adoration for herself—smoothing down her dark hair, strictly adhering herself to that keto diet, doing her skincare with the dedication of one who prays nightly to god (pick any)—is wholly justifiable. Look at her. Anyone would understand.

The dress she wore for her hosting show slips off her body. Her abs reflect in the mirror, the result of hard work in the gym. Wonyoung’s waist is impeccable. Magazines have written over and over tips to attain it but it seems that the signature Bratz doll feature can only belong to Wonyoung. The makeup was cleaned up by her stylist but her eyes still shine, her lashes are still long, and her lips are still plump.

Wonyoung is standing there in nothing but her underwear, an attractive set of lace. 

Wonyoung is the perfect female form, a goddess from above choosing a man from below.

Wonyoung is beautiful, a feat that no matter how amazing besides true, she remains the same old fucking bore.

“Did you like my MCing, babe?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Her legs, long and thin, move in planned strides down the room. To the bed. You know where this is going.

Your feet are killing you. Recline, welcoming yourself into the softness of the expensive mattress and pillows your wife paid for all in all. “Wonyoung, I’m tired.” 

She’s a celebrity. Of course, endless days filled to the edge with schedules chase after her. She ought to understand. The nights are her only rest hours, yet with this energy, it’s like Jang Wonyoung never gets exhausted. Always bubbly, always sweet, always so seductive. 

All these are positive traits that any other man would adore and own had you not married her. 

Wonyoung makes an adorable sigh. “But you say that everytime,” she replies sullenly.

She’s pushing her lips out into this cute pout while her brown puppy eyes beg you to give in like you used to. Once upon a time, you were putty around Wonyoung. Never could give an answer without your voice shaking. Never could come near her without blushing. 

She’s the prettiest woman in the world.

You’re the most awful, undeserving man in the world, for all you could think, as you look at her, is: Fucking bitch. 

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m always tired.”

“How about,” she puts a finger on her chin, “I do the job for you?”

Her knees are bruised. You notice this when she drops to them so she could pull your pants to the ground. So she’s been doing this for so long? Lowering herself for you? Sucking you off? You thought that she’d get the hint by now: you don’t want to have sex with her.

So instead, she uses her mouth. Better than her pussy anyway. What are you saying? She’s a tight woman. But it’s the same thing everyday: she gets on your cock and you hear her annoying voice straining as she rides you. Her cunt, soaked and useless, makes you want to call her its name. She’s always needy. It isn’t flattering when you don’t reciprocate it.

It’s a goddamned chore. Wonyoung’s throat welcomes you. The other way around, actually: your cock welcomes a claustrophobically closed passageway and has to deal with it until you cum. It’s an unwanted visitor. She rang the bell, said hi, and you let her in. Doesn’t mean you like her there.

“Doing so good, baby,” you say. Oh, yeah, doesn’t mean you mean it either—although you do feel Wonyoung smile happily. She’s happy when she makes you happy. When she makes you give her the illusion that you have any happiness in this worn-out marriage.

Her lips seal around you. You can feel them suckling. Your knees are tense. The moans are forced, though. Hearing them come out from your own mouth makes you want to place a pillow over your face and press it down as hard as you can.

She slides you down her throat. Admittedly, you love the way she chokes. Her eyes get all watery, like she’s crying from pain. That sounds appealing. 

You’re a critically messed up man, you know. But they’re what make the world go ‘round. Why do you think they write romance books about them—the bad boy, the mafia boss, the killer? Plus, one of those “terrible” people inspires the biggest Korean celebrity to continue hosting, dancing, and singing. So who’s so terrible now?

To conclude, if anything, you’re the one responsible for Wonyoung’s success.

To conclude, you groan as desperately as you can then release in her mouth. Wonyoung gags. Another pretty sound. Her eyes look up while she attempts to swallow. Saliva sticks to her chin. Semen floods up to the roof of her mouth. It reminds you of how it ends up there more often than in her womb.

You would’ve made beautiful children with Wonyoung in another world where she wasn’t famous and you actually loved her. You would have been a softer, kinder man. She would have been a person who’s easier to love and make love with.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, that… was incredible.”

If you weren’t a director, you’d be the one on camera. You’re a great actor when it comes to your wife. Your incompetence in the house is masked by husbandly exhaustion; an artificial gaze of attentiveness hides your indifference to conversation. 

She smiles coquettishly. “I try.”

The wide closet parts. She chooses a pair of silk pajamas that hang around her thin frame. She climbs onto the bed and wraps an arm around you. Her skin is always cold to the touch. Like she’s dead or something. How interesting.

You stroke her hair. “I’d return the favor but… I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She kisses your forehead. Wonyoung’s a sweet girl. “Good night.”

You smile. Say it back. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her palms are flat against each other and are placed under her cheek. Cute, you guess. She sleeps. 

You don’t. 

You should have—nothing good ever happens after midnight.

-

2:05 a.m., more specifically.

-

Amazing how time slips through your grasp like air. You reach and reach, desperate for a return, desperate for a flash to the past. As always, your efforts aren’t fruitful. The seconds pour through the pinched waist of the hourglass and you can’t stand it on its other head. You’re unable to revert back to the moment you took your arm from underneath your wife’s skull. The moment you opened your phone. If you hadn’t, maybe things would have been different.

But it’s past two, and you’re resting your back on the pillowy headboard with your phone in your hands. The circumstances just play right into danger: Wonyoung’s asleep, the night is eerily quiet, and the screen is there, awaiting the secret routine. Which girls would you cum for today? Why aren’t your thumbs clicking over censored sites?

Your feed shows a naked woman, her eyes staring up and her mouth wide. Scroll past that—you prefer the amateur videos, where the expressions balance between exaggerated and naturally provoked. A ton of videos could help in the bathroom where you take your nightly “shower,” and it’s not one of those.

Maybe you need the real thing.

Look at Wonyoung. Perhaps you should have let her ride you just so you could cum in a warm pussy again. After all, it’s the least you could do when you were once a fan of her. That’s how everyone starts: puppy-like adoration. But she doesn’t have the star quality she once did onstage; the coy thoughtful princess you envisioned her as. That’s why you haven’t fucked her in weeks. 

You’re about to wrap your hand around your cock and ready yourself for another night of conflicted pleasure. This video is perfect for that already. You could jerk yourself off then get a good night’s sleep. Simple. This is the safest option for a dangerous want. By just watching, you’re not cheating on your wife. It’s just porn. Jerk off, cum, cum again probably, then sleep. Nobody gets hurt.

“Fuck me… please,” whimpers the woman in the video. Her legs are spread open. Her partner’s swiping his cock at her lips while she looks at him with equal hunger, equal desire. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, a text message notifies you, peeking from the top of your screen. It dares you to click it.

And it says the exact same thing.

fuck me please, i cant take it anymore. 

i miss you 

You look around, like you’re afraid someone might see it. There’s only the dimness of your bedroom that greets you. It’s safe, but this message isn’t. 

The number is familiar. Has one of your friends gone crazy? Or did they send a text to the wrong person? Take it for spam, a perfectly coincidental one, or a scam, a typical, preying-on-the-married, pwning message.

But why would a contact spam you at a time so strangely perfect?

Don’t bother. Your fist works on your dick as you watch the video. The woman’s so wet that although she isn’t squirting, her juices start to stick to the man’s thighs. Her mouth is wide open as he finally pounds her. 

What you’d give to have good sex like that again. 

XXX-XXX-XXX sent a video message.

Fine. Click it, you’re curious.

Oh, so apparently, the answer is your marriage.

The video shows a face that’s more intimate than familiar. The ebony-black hair already tells you who she is, as does her body. Her form is encased in a floral tank top and nothing else. Although her chest is covered, she’s still a little daring with how her nipples stamp the fabric. She turns herself around to let you admire the curve of her wide hips and her round butt.

There’s only one woman with a body so perfect. And she’s the one and only Kim Minju.

There are reasons for everything. This is yours for why you didn’t give this number a name: 

No one needs to know just from a text that you cheated on Jang Wonyoung.

That was so long ago, back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend. You were drunk and missed Wonyoung’s old self. Why did she have to be such a bitch? Why did she dedicate herself to work and leave you dry? It’s not like the industry would go bankrupt without her. Minju came over, listened to your complaints—every little whine about Wonyoung being busy, every little jab at her workaholic character—then said something along the lines of, why don’t you have a little fun while she’s away. 

And you thought… yeah, that was a really great idea. 

That was the beginning of the end. After multiple secret meet-ups and raunchy sex in alleyways, you didn’t contact Minju again. You forgot her. You thought she did, too. She should have understood that your infidelity, albeit alluring, would be a thing of the past. 

But here she is, in your messages, with a pornographic clip of herself in a round-cornered bubble. She’s waiting for a reply. 

Although you’ve long lost your aspirations to be a better husband, you type what a good man should. This man is proper, faithful, and loving. He loves his wife only and the only other people he loves with this deep of a bond is his family. 

Stop texting me or I’ll block you. 

It’s not enough. You’re not a good man. You aren’t proper or faithful or loving or any of that shit. You were about to masturbate to an internet celebrity after turning down sex with your wife. What about that makes you a good person?

:( you miss me sooooo bad it’s pathetic, Minju replies.

You look at her again. You may not be able to turn back time with your metaphorical hourglass, but you can turn this hourglass body into any position you want. You could push her against a window for all to see, perhaps fuck her to the floor, or slam her on a desk like a teacher would to a test paper. Minju would let you do anything to her.

Stop it.

She really has to. As much as you dislike Wonyoung, she’s your wife, and you vowed on your wedding day to only have eyes for her. 

But you’re only one man against a body like Minju’s that curves in every right place.

Three circles float up and down in a contained bubble before she texts you back:

alright…what a pity :( i’m already outside!! i guess ill have to go back…

You’ve never bolted out of bed so fast. 

You look back at Wonyoung as you stand in the doorway. She’s still in deep slumber. Now, are the curtains closed? The entrances locked? Scan the house thoroughly, until you inch your way to the front door. 

Hesitate. You didn’t know you had a conscience but here it is. It tells you to wonder if Minju really is behind it, like she said. She knows how to use the privilege of being Wonyoung’s close friend. That’s how she came to your house like she used to with no worry for paparazzi or suspicion. Best friends don’t fuck their best friends’ husbands, right?

Open the door. This one did.

Minju grew more beautiful in her absence. Her hair is silkier this time and her shy smile is brighter. The long coat is smoothed by her fingers, and you wish you could be the brown piece of fabric her pale hands run down. What makes you guilty for thinking it, even when you’ve done it, is the fact that she looks so innocent. It’s like it would be a crime to even buy her a drink. 

How could she be innocent with that photo she sent? The time you spent together: you folding her over a table and promising to fill her up? Fucking her while Wonyoung is busy and counting on you to welcome her home? Sending nudes like there’s no tomorrow? Nothing about Minju is pure, yet she acts like she could do no wrong.

“Minju,” you say. Your voice sounds fragile. She has a way of breaking you befote you’re breaking her into breaking another bed. 

She blinks theatrically. Everything she does is angelic. “Glad you opened the door.”

The knob is cold in your fist. It chills your animalistic brain and urges you to consider the consequences. Right, it says, here’s what a human—a good one—would think. If Wonyoung wakes and sees you with Minju, she’d have a lot of questions. If paparazzi are somehow hiding in the forest that extends to acres before your house, everyone would know you’re cheating on her. Most of all, you’re married, monogamy and everything. 

So what will it be? This is your last and only chance to send her away.

You know what you have to do. Take a few breaths. “You have to leave. I’m not joking, it isn’t right.”

In response, Minju unravels the ribbon of the layers sealed around her waist. It falls apart. You do, too.

She’s a real danger. As it turns out, the girl isn’t wearing anything underneath that trench coat. She’s an artist’s naked muse—bare long legs, wide hips, and a sizable bust that has sculptors carving something else.

The cold hardens her pink nipples. You notice how her breasts are much bigger than your wife’s. How her hips are more tempting to grab, so you do. How her body is meatier, a lot more enticing that you wouldn’t refuse a day without touching it.

Minju fuels your infidelity, and you won’t stop for it if it kills you.

She simpers, fingers curling into your work shirt. “Still wanna make me leave,” she asks, “when you can breed me all night long?”

You laugh, huffing it out as you pull her inside and close the door behind her. Minju looks gorgeous pressed to it. She looks gorgeous in whatever situation, actually. Her thighs squish against the carved design and look thicker as a result. More reasons to dive into that shaven cunt and abuse it.

“You’re not leaving until we make a fucking mess, Minju.” You take your shirt off. Throw it on the ground. “And we better make it quick.”

“Of course.” She nods. She’s slyer than a fox, but she submits to you without a second thought.

You lean in to kiss her. The heat is unbearable. You can feel it from Minju’s body transferring to yours. It’s the effect of her natural skills as your personal slut: trying to fit her tongue deeper in your mouth while you pull her close like she’d dare to run away. 

You haven’t gotten this hard for anyone else. It’s always been Minju you fall for. You miss the way she kisses, the way she roams her hands all over your torso, the way she’s goddamned insatiable. Feeling it all now in one, heated moment makes you dizzy. You’re taking in too much of her, but without her, you’d go thirsty again. 

Your fingers are in her hair; hers are on your waist. Your teeth are clamped down on Minju’s bottom lip; hers are apart and allow soft moans to pass through—one, two, three. You fit each other in so many wicked ways. They did say misery loves company.

Open your eyes. The dream doesn’t stop. Minju’s still pushing her mouth in your face and you’re letting her. You don’t know if you ought to be relieved or downright horrified. You’re cheating on Wonyoung again with a woman whose body is just a bit nicer. You should be furious at yourself. You aren’t.

You’ve made out with each other on the way to the dining room. You and your wife worked hard for its designed walls and sturdy, well-furnished ornaments. A lot of money was raked out to make this house the best place to call home. So, why do you want to ruin it?

Well, because of her.

Minju leans on the dining table with a funny smile on her face. “She really doesn’t do it for you, huh?” she asks.

It makes you wince how you know who she’s talking about. Who else is she referring to other than poor Wonyoung? Poor, skinny, ugly Wonyoung?

Nibble at her earlobe. Hear little gasps come out of her. “Don’t talk about her,” you say.

You don’t want to have any afterthoughts about fucking Minju. Besides, being reminded that you’re disloyal to a woman who loves you very much is painful, even to a man like you.

Wonyoung is an angel. Minju isn’t—but you run after her to darkness.

“Ohh, come on, I know I’m better than her.” Minju squirms with erotic moans. Your kisses are going south, and she loves their little detour. “You don’t fuck her like you fuck me.”

When was the last time you worshiped Wonyoung? Like what you’re doing to Minju now? Your lips haven’t passed over it in ages that you probably wouldn’t know where the bigs and smalls of her body are. Like there’s anything to know. 

“Actually,” you snort, “I don’t fuck her at all.”

You stop chuckling. That was the wrong thing to say. That was the wrongest thing to say out of the millions of other cocky phrases you could’ve thrown to Minju. The look on her face, the one that’s of pride and submission and dangerous knowledge united, tells you to watch your mouth. 

You’re five seconds minimum too late to listen. 

Minju grins. There’s the answer she wanted. “That’s how it is? Just looking at a girl and thinking you wanna stamp a divorce approval on her forehead? Jesus. This is why I never got married.”

“First off, nobody put a ring on you because you’re a slut, Minju.”

“That’s only the third reason.” Her fingers drape the sides of your face and tugs you in. You’re invited to the sight of her infallible tits. “These are the first two.”

The girl isn’t as busty as that woman Wonyoung likes to call her industry mom, but you bet they’re better. No, it’s a matter of truth. Minju’s boobs aren’t too big or too small; just the perfect, filling size to hold onto when you’re railing her from behind.

You choose to suck on them for now. It’s like a trip down memory lane when you kiss down her neck and collarbone. You remember how good her smooth, soft skin feels beneath you, how her moans are a favorite tune. Minju bites her lip while you do so to her shoulder.

It’s crazy to think that she just so happened to be born with this. She was born to be a pretty face with a sex-defined body that you pull and push and pry apart. Best thing is, she’ll lay back down and beg for more. It’s like she knows her purpose, which would’ve shot down her dignity and humanity.

Her nipple pops in your mouth. Your sucking guarantees its hardness, and Minju starts whining. She arcs her body, wanting something rougher. Thus, you seize the span of her hip to rub her pearl with fierce speed.

“Oh, fuck, god—” What others might take for blasphemy, you take for praise. Minju’s already soaking wet. She would have had embarrassing laundry to do if she wore panties. Maybe it’s a good thing she arrived wearing nothing.

She’s still so sensitive. You caress her clit after a few kisses down her midriff. She fidgets needily like you aren’t already touching her. You’re nearly right—this touch is nothing when she needs something harsher. That something involves you treating her less than a human being, putting her down and tearing at her hair. 

“Please just fuck me,” she whispers. “Breed me, breed me, breed me—”

Yeah, that’s what she wants.

You don’t need further motivation, not when you’re presented with the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen. Her fat lips are soaked. They frame the clitoris you’ve been stimulating that shines with slick. Then there’s the tiniest hole below it that begs to be used.

Your digits shove past all tightness. Her wetness allows a deeper exploration, so you curl your digits like you’re beckoning the orgasm forward. You know how easily you can get it out of her. All it needs to get Minju cumming around you is a slap, roughness, and giving her what she wants anyway. You know your methods, she knows hers. It’s a recognizable cycle that despite this, you can’t break.

Part your fingers widely to spread her. She’s so wet that she soaks your knuckles. There’s an ocean inside her waiting to be waved to shore. A storm, too, brews from the base of her throat as Minju whimpers. Her body lifts off the table but you force her down on it. She isn’t going anywhere, not without a fight.

Oh, and fight she does. She was an idol before an actress, so her muscles still memorize the circling motions that repeat on your fingers rather than move onstage. She sang once. That was a long time ago yet her voice sounds perfect as it strains her moans. Every little thing she does is a reflection of her past. 

That’s why when she leans back, pupils dilating north, and says “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you get deja vu.

Your palm hits her clit, adding impact to your strokes. “There you go, little slut,” you snarl. “Are you happy now? Maybe even a little grateful?”

If Minju’s ass isn’t pressed down on the glass mantling your dining table, it hovers so her pink little hole receives you better. It’s not without the help of her weak hands clinging to the table for dear life, but she seems to be losing her balance. Her hips are shuddering. Her beautiful face is squeezed up into a blissful wince. Her breaths are becoming blunt little gasps that say none of the gratitude you want to hear.

You slap her boob. Red blooms from her pale skin that deepens when another impacts her bosom. The recoil dizzies you. If anyone’s getting the impression that you’ll slap her bouncy tits until you hear a proper word of thanks, they’d be right. First impressions are right just for once.

“T-thank you—” Her voice cracks, breaking like her. “Fuck, shit, thank you, thank you.”

Squeeze her cruelly and pull on the perky nipple. Your thrusts become mindlessly paced. Your hand returns to your cock while the other ruins her pussy. The pleasure is telepathic. It’s connecting you; her screams and squirms make you do the same. The electricity firing up in your veins is a shared network. When you point your fingers to her spot, she arcs her back in the same direction. How beautifully fucked up is that? 

“That’s not enough. You didn’t come here for nothing. What do you want, Minju?”

Minju babbles. You got your gratitude but not a proper answer. To be fair, she can’t speak when you’re fucking her like it’s your dick inside her, and when your lips are all over her collarbone. 

“And you better keep quiet,” you add, curling your thrusts, “or Wonyoung‘s gonna hear. Do you really want her to know her precious friend is a big slut?”

However, despite the rumors she starts, Minju could be a very good girl when needed. 

“Need you to make me cum,” she whispers. Her midriff is fluid as water with the way it rolls, showing off the hourglass shape of her waist and a soft tummy. “Do everything to me you can’t with Wonyoung. P-please, I can’t take it.”

Even if she can’t (wrong by the way), you’ll make her. She asked for it. She walked up to your house with a purpose: to be used, to be treated like less of a human being. So it’s understandable that you slam her down the table and seal a hand around her neck. 

She’s so light that the forceful push doesn’t break the fragile glass. But there’s something of hers instead that’s going to be broken.

“Oh fuck! It’s so–” Minju’s eyes roll back. “Ohh… oh!”

Little sparks of wetness shoot in the air. Your pace turns merciless. With just three fingers, you puppet her body. Strings are pulled—her arms raise and her long legs strain to pull you in. You push and she keens, you pull and she yells. You’re making her desecrate the place with her water.

“C-can’t breathe.” A squeeze of her beautiful features—eyelids wrinkling, mouth parting, cheeks filling with scarlet—occurs before she squirts again. She whimpers pathetically, sounding so pitiful you want to laugh. “Ah, fuck, daddy—”

Something stirs inside you. When men hear that name, it ought to feel purely platonic and familial. They’d hear it from their daughter and feel compelled to protect them from men who’d do to them what you do to Minju. But you much prefer hearing that two-syllable word when it comes from a naked woman squirting all over the floor, from whom once you register it, you’re urged to pin her down, tie her down, hold her down.

Ironically, you release her. That isn’t because it’s over though. “On your knees. Follow me.”

Minju releases a gasp, grateful for the oxygen. The color returns to her face yet she barely has the energy to get off the table. You’re a generous man, and hey, it still counts as helping. So you yank her hair and force her on the ground. She fucking moans, a feat deserving of a healthy spank to her ass.

You walk to the living room. She follows you withher hands and knees bearing the cold tiles. You lead her to the place where you spend your time watching movies, rehearsing, and hanging out with Wonyoung if she’s ever home.

Speaking of, glance at the door of your bedroom. It’s still closed. It’ll stay that way.

Look down after wondering why Minju’s noisier. She’s playing with herself on the floor with no care for the cold chill of the tiles or the little dirt wedged between them. She lightly rubs her abused clit, quivering at the contact. You expect that from her—she’s corrupted, an irredeemable cause. She’ll get herself off anytime anywhere.

But what’s unexpected is what those watery eyes are focused on: you, in a framed picture on the wall. You look younger, happier. You’re in formal garments standing next to Wonyoung in a church.

It was you on your wedding day.

You spit on Minju. “Filthy cumslut.”

The drool slides down her cheek like a tear. She darts her tongue out and licks it. One could’ve thought it was candy considering the lift of a smile. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she says resolutely. Her fingers still toy with her entrance. They won’t serve her well when there’s a bigger, better thing behind your pants to do it for her.

Your pants are already off. “Get up. Get the fuck up,” you command, but you do it for her. 

You grab her neck and force her up. The look on her face is addicting, the way the shock turns into carnal need, the way she bites her lip. You press her to the wall, right under the framed wedding pictures, and finally plunge yourself inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh!” 

What did Minju do to get this tight? Her walls are squeezed closer around you than you remember. They’re still wet from her squirting, easing your burden of fighting against the tautness of her core.

Her groans are pitched just like how you pitch yourself in her and make her fight for it. She tries everything: gathering the strength she has to push her ass into your crotch, rolling her body, looking back to watch your cock disappear between her lips. 

“So big, daddy!” she cries. With a lick of her lips, she turns to face you. “Mmm, d-do you ever get this massive when you’re fucking Wonyoung?”

That seals it. There’s no restraint in using her body. Her plump ass leading to her toned back is a temptation by itself. You’d burst all over it (maybe in it) if you weren’t already firm in breeding her. But dear god—it rises and descends into your angled pumps so effortlessly that you aren’t afraid to spank it like you’re angry at her. 

“Keep your whore mouth shut.”

Spank after spank you bestow and you realize, oh, you and Minju are really made for each other. The more her ass reddens, the more hot pain sparks on your palm. She throws herself back hard, you piston her harder. 

Your puzzle pieces stick together so perfectly that it’s a shame you didn’t meet under different circumstances. She could’ve been an adorable girl next door and you could have been a guy looking to slip her a love letter. She would’ve been your loving girlfriend, a beautiful wife, someone you’d actually enjoy touching, so different from the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.

But that’s never happening. Minju’s a slut through and through, and she’ll forever be a sin you won’t go to confessions for. She was made to be fucked then discarded of when she’s no longer of use. You see it in the way she’s in a mantra of craziness, the way she yells, the way she looks back at you like she’s daring you to hurt her.

You choose the dare rather than to tell her the truth. You curl her hair into a fist and pull her into you. 

“God, I’m so close.” Minju’s trembling body grows warmer in your touch. “I’m gonna cum all over your big gorgeous cock. I can’t hold out longer, daddy.”

Your teeth dig into her earlobe. You could make her bleed and she’d still find a way to make the pain heavenly. “I thought I told you to be quiet. Is Wonyoung waking up and ending your life worth it for this?”

“What if I say yes?” 

“Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice, making her see you’d give her away to get a night with me? You’ll give up all this stupid shit t-to be my daddy. Because Wonyoung’s just sooo worthless, isn’t she?”

Savage her cunt and shove your fingers down her mouth just so she could shut up. You love this. Minju’s always so ready for you. 

No, actually—now that you think about it, you hate it. You hate how she’s curvier than your wife, how she’s more alluring than she could ever be, how she moans despite the blockage in her throat. Everything about her is so sexy that the sound of her choking up spit makes you throb. 

This is the wrong time to have a conscience. You’ve already split her apart. You’ve already got your fingers in her hair that pull hard to the point that damage is highly likely. You’ve already—

—got Minju screaming, biting down on your skin as her legs spread. What a strange thing to have as a natural reflex. That’s all she knows to do: spread her legs, hope her innocent face attracts a guy into her home and his dick into her pussy. Her skin, white as snow, has become impure with red blemishes. You see her purple-bruised neck flex when she yells into your hand. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Minju yells. Her fingernails leave fine scratches on the wall. “Fuck, I’m squirting so much I don’t know what to do—oh fuck!”

You bump the manic girl up on your knee before spreading her legs. A godless squirt of her juices hits Wonyoung’s face, the savior being the glass protecting the picture. Others bless their homes with water blessed by esteemed priests; you like to stand out. Choose to have Minju’s unholy juice flood the photo you once held dear. 

Did something possess you? An evil spirit, a god of fertility? All are clichés but you can’t help but think so when you notice how fast you’re pumping Minju. It’s like greed’s finally reigned you. It’s difficult to resist. Minju just wrings your cock perfectly dry with her tight cunt, keeps you speedy with her desperate moans. You’re vandalizing her with your climax and she doesn’t want to be clean ever again.

“You think you’re special, Minju?” You press her to the ruined picture. Her side profile mashes on the glass. “You’re nothing, only a useless hole, just like that bitch. Now clean it up.”

Her eyes light up in shock. Excitement? “What?”

You pull her head back in order to have her full lips pressed against Wonyoung’s face. The clear squirt is still dripping from it. Minju’s face is red, and although your cock left her moments ago, she insists on tensing like it’s there. Is that how she lives? Her way of bonding is riding on the high she got the night before and the night before that. She always has sex in her mind that thoughts of it occur to her as they would to an animal. 

That’s right; she’s an animal. Perhaps even a dog would have more self-control than her, ironically. 

“Lick your mess,” you command. “Now.”

Minju whimpers. You bury your fingernails in her scalp until she loses her fake hesitance. Her tongue glides on Wonyoung’s face and relieves her of the mess. Her lips part and close, taking in her own taste. 

She looks like she’s making out with your wife. Her pretty face smudges the other pretty face in the picture and it’s so much hotter than it’s got the permit to be. Wonder how it’ll look if she’s actually kissing the real Wonyoung—picture them with their legs locked together and tongues coming out to play—and you’re hard enough for another round.

“That’s right. You want to be Wonyoung so bad? You want to be the one I drive into the bed everyday? So fucking make out with her.”

“Y-yes, daddy. Oh.” Minju’s moans fog the glass. “I taste delicious.”

 It’s probably a hygienically reprehensible thing to do. But her mouth is dirtier than the picture anyway. You force her lips deeper into it until you pull her away, satisfied.

Not quite.

Rub her clit a few more times. Hose her squirt all over the floor. You’ll have a mess to clean up. Oh, there’s all the evidence: her squirt on the floor, her lipstick in the shape of a languid kiss on the picture frame, the mess she made in the dining table where you ate her rather than your food. 

But it’s all worth it. An evil idea plants and sprouts in your mind. “Bedroom.”

Minju pants. Her hands are flat on the wall. She turns to you, saliva and lipstick smeared on her chin, and asks, “W-which one?” 

“You know exactly where.”

Her wide eyes tell you wordlessly that she got the point. She’s well aware of what room you want to use her body next. It’s not even supposed to be a question given the ways and moments you fucked her there.

“But daddy—if, if she hears us?”

You grin. “Then you’ll have to be pretty fucking quiet.”

The best thing about Minju besides her body is her passiveness. She may act up sometimes but she still needs your cock, and she’ll do anything to get it. So when she hangs her head to hide her smile, you spank her. It speeds her steps to the staircase. Continue doing so all the way.

It’s funny how she struggles to even lift a foot. Streams of your cum and hers slide down her legs, staining the carpet. You’ll have to wash that out, too. If you have the maid do it, she’s likely to put two and two together. 

Even from the back, Minju’s body is beautiful. Her reddened ass twists from side to side and brings attention to her wide hips. The deep line on her spine is a path you trace your fingertips on. She quivers. 

“Daddy,” she whines.

Hit her butt. Let it fill your palm. “Keep on walking.”

It’s borderline dehumanizing. You’re treating her with a ferociousness a woman like her should never have to go through. The eyes of the painted men and women on your walls lock on her. It’s like their hard stares are real. Minju bears the blows to her cheeks during her walk of humiliation up the stairs. Tiny yelps are caused by each one. It’s in her to be quiet now that Wonyoung is quite near, although not as close as she is to another heavy orgasm.

You slap her pussy, making her shake, then lead the juices mingling in it up to her asshole. She chews on the inside of her cheek to hide her moan. She reaches the last step with a huge sigh of relief. 

The finality of the torture doesn’t last long. Fuck, it doesn’t even exist. You collect the semen and wetness from her legs, then drag it right back to her pussy.

You shove your fingers deep in her cave. There. Now your cum stays inside her. After that, it’ll drip all the way to her womb. She screams through pursed lips. 

Push her hard against your bedroom door. Her stomach’s flatness goes up to the point that it’s the only thing engendered into the wood. Minju’s tiny gasp is already loud for you. Her beautiful side profile is mashed deep into the solid barrier between the two women.

Minju whimpers. Is she scared or heavily turned on? The thing with her is she likes both. So, yeah—she’s wet at the thought of being caught with you, being fucked within a distance of your wife wherein she could finally pin down your infidelity. 

The little angel closes her eyes when your words hover near her prone ear. “Shut up,” you warn, “unless you want to lose your career. Or this dick.”

You slip your shaft between Minju’s shapely thighs. A friction is nurtured and grown into rough, pant-accompanied humping that leaves both of you breathless. Her pussy lips splay warmly on you and you’re allowed to rub yourself on her clit. 

Minju tenses up. Her breaths are kept to a hummed volume yet their huskiness gets you to fuck her legs faster. The core between them is so warm and you haven’t even welcomed yourself in it again. 

You carefully open the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting: Wonyoung crying with her face in her knees? An anger you never knew she could have? But what shows calms you. There’s your wife who remains asleep on the bed. From the soft snores, it’s easy to tell she’s deep in a dream.

“Wonyoung’s so pretty, daddy,” whispers Minju. You push her to the footboard where she holds on tight. “Do you think she’ll want to join if she wakes up? Or she’ll leave you for me?”

“Are you sure you want to act like that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Depends on what you’re gonna do to me.”

Everything. You’re planning on doing everything to her. 

Push her to the small pole of the wood. You’re forced to shove your fingers in her mouth again to keep her from yelling. The contact it makes to her clit is already overwhelming. But she’s all for overwhelming—she wants the kind of sex that leaves her beaten and bruised, the kind that leaves her sore and not knowing if she should tell you to keep going or halt. 

You know what she’d choose.

Minju grinds on the pole. She’s dancing her hips again. Somehow, things of the past don’t leave her. Her idol days still leave an impact on her. The guy she made cheat on his wife a long time ago returned to her life to cheat again. 

No, you’ve never been one for sentimentality, but things have somehow stayed the same. The slut that is Minju today was a slut all those years ago, too. 

Grab her hips and force her to hump the ball of the pole. She soaks it instantly. Minju is corrupted to no hope of return. There’s your cum, leaking from her pussy and to the bedsheets. Her juices wet the pole and increase the creaking noises that would wake Wonyoung up if not for whatever dream she’s having.

“Oh, daddy! Oh, daaaddy—” she stammers, words bitten and broken in the major need to be quiet.  “Just… fuck me. Please?”

“As long as you—”

“Be a good quiet girl, yes. I’ll do anything, daddy. Anything for this cock.” 

She kneels down. Her tender mouth seals around your left testicle. You nearly shout right there and then. Minju’s running her lips on the underside of your swelling dick. She feels so good, and she is so good. She has all the tips and tricks to keep you hard memorized, if her brain wasn’t too full of other dirty thoughts.

The rasp in your throat materializes and makes her squirm her legs together. She puckers her lips then slips your cock through their joined entrance. Her almond eyes look wider tonight. Your tip pokes the back of her throat. She lets it rub there for now. You find pleasure in the texture that makes you leak. No, you can’t cum. Not yet.

Take a last look at Wonyoung before diving your rod to the depths of Minju’s throat.

It’s funny that the girl still has a gag reflex. Sucking dick is second nature to her. So is getting throatfucked. The walls of her oral hole flex to keep you in. She makes sharp inhalations only to take in the musky scent you thrust on her. In her?

Choking comes after. The orifice grows tighter which makes you fuck it harder. Saliva’s slick liquid state sheens your erection. Minju’s lost her breath a long time ago but she’s lost more than that now. The regular beat of her heart is gone. You can’t search her face for any color other than the palest white. 

“You have to stop gagging, Minju,” you say. Don’t help her though; keep ruining that throat. “Maybe you really do wanna get caught. Makes you really wet, doesn’t it?”

She nods. Your hard tip bobs in her mouth as she does. Her pretty eyes, with their long lashes and big pupils that always seem to gleam with innocence, fill with watery tears. 

“How cute.” You’re surprised that her hair is intact to her scalp after you pull it back. “But I make the rules around here. And I need you to seal that mouth shut and use it for good.”

There’s a possibility that, like Minju, you’re a dancer as well. But the upward grind of your body has no grace in it. It’s a rough, punked up beat that renders the girl humming and screaming.  This roughness is nowhere close to natural.

You dip your cock in her just to see how far you could go, how far is needed to keep her quiet. Feed her more than she could suck. Every sensitive spot of yours is on fire thanks to Minju’s dutiful tongue and hard sucking. Your sack slaps her chin so hard it’s surprising it doesn’t hurt. 

But, like you iterated, Minju isn’t normal. She takes the pain for pleasure and doesn’t give a damn if she gets wounded because of it. 

The tears finally fall from her eyes. 

The lines blur. Who is she—the woman asleep on your bed or the woman you fucked to be disloyal to her? Minju’s beautiful; so is Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung is beautiful but there’s a category of beauty wherein the girl you’re destroying right now falls in. That’s the section for women who look pretty when they cry, who’ve accepted they’re as fucked up as whoever finds them and takes them in for who they are.

Your wife is pretty. You guess. But Minju is a beauty who lets you do everything to her, and that makes her a little bit more important.

Defile, defile, defile. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you get cum in her hair—(”I have a photoshoot, babe, you can’t!”). Semen sticks to Minju’s locks right now. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you be this rough with her—(“And what if they see? I shouldn’t look dirty to the fans.”) Minju is sitting there taking it like she’s just a cum dump. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you tear off her clothes because “they’re couture so it’s not really mine.” The coat Minju wore coming here lies discarded on the first floor.

Wonyoung doesn’t let anyone defile her. It’s her most fatal flaw. It’s the flaw that makes her husband see all the tiny imperfections she doesn’t allow the camera to see and chase highs in another woman’s throat.

So when Minju cries, gags, chokes—you realize it’s all so simple.

Slip out of her. The delusions clouding your head make you steal a look at the bed. Oh, now it’s unbelievable. Wonyoung is still asleep.

Not that it’s any inconvenience to you.

You prop Minju up to the vanity table. The counter carries the heave of her small chest. She can barely lift her head up. It makes her carry a look of humiliation that’s not at all true. She’s the most shameless woman you’ve ever met.

“Daddy… daddy…” 

Twist her chin so she can look at herself in the mirror. Her body is amazing despite the handprints and bruises peppered on her stomach, butt, and neck. She flusters but your finger presses on her lips before she can look away.

“Not a single sound,” you remind her. 

She nods. Good girl.

Minju’s a capable girl. Well, mostly. She offers those amazing dicksucking lips, shapely curves, and sometimes, her ass for ruining its own tightness. But nothing beats the feeling of her cunt. It’s all the right things: wet, tight, and perfectly quivering as they wrap around your shaft.

Minju closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. She fights to be true to her promise of silence. Being a good girl and bad girl simultaneously is one of her versatile traits. The table creaks louder than expected. You would’ve shot another look at your spouse again, but Minju’s pretty face is in the way. Her cheeks are scarlet and her brows bead with sweat. She really is a beauty.

Your strokes are ceaseless. The thing that shocks you the least is the fact that her legs look as if they spread wider and wider. She splits while you split her apart. Place a hand on her tummy to muffle the sounds of skin colliding and wood creaking, and reach a better end: your cock is hitting her guts, making a bobbing print on her flat stomach.

“Look how deep I am, Minju.” You grin wickedly at her reflection. “You call me daddy anywhere, don’t you? How about I become a real one?”

Minju bounces herself on you. That’s a yes. A definite, enthusiastic yes. 

Your penetration is rougher, gliding on places she can’t even imagine. If you cum right now, and this far in, you’ll live up to your name of “daddy.” Minju isn’t the only one who has to keep promises.

Corner a pulse point on her neck. Her core squeezes and although its resistance is tough, your pumps are more so.

“You’ll be my secret good girl. Daddy’s gonna put a fucking baby in your stomach, and no one has to know it’s mine. No one has to know you’re mine.”

Minju pouts, not out of sadness but of the orgasm that’s creeping from her feet to her center. It’s so close she could reach for it, taste it like a strong wind. You allow the tiny breaths and pants that leave her to be exemptions from your bedroom law.

“Wonyoung would be so happy for you.” You lick the sensitive spot behind her ear. “‘That’s so great, unnie! Come on, tell us who’s the lucky guy.’ And you’ll have to stop yourself from telling her that I did it. Can you do that?”

Minju emphasizes each repetition with a responding throb and push of her cunt. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Allow that, too. Burst inside Minju. Flood her insides with cum that shall infiltrate her fertile womb. Soon, that tummy would be round rather than flat. It’ll be your baby. 

Minju got what she wanted in the end.

-

The next day, Wonyoung will wake up crying. 

It’ll happen early in the morning, when the moon is still up and sheets still wrap your exhausted form. But she’s sobbing so loud that it’ll rouse you. 

“What’s wrong?” you’ll say. 

She’ll tell you about a dream she had. Wonyoung’s going to narrate a complex dream of Minju, her beloved former member and best friend, seducing you. It happened right in the house and in front of her. You dared to do it to her while she was sleeping and thought she didn’t know.

And you?

You’ll take her in your arms, kiss the inside of her trembling wrist, and say, “Oh, honey—it’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #fanfic #kpop fic #fic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #izone smut #actress smut #kim minju smut #izone minju smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #idol x reader #idol x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #minju smut #pov smut #kofimission #commission #iz days of christmas 2023 #iz days of christmas 2023 day 7

[malebodyexhibit]

Gives an inch, takes a mile (a free commission tale)

I nuzzled my face into my boyfriend’s chest. After his gym workout, he smelled so good. I was usually not into the smell of sweat or BO, but smelling his musk with lavender body wash was soothing as he held me in his arm. His body warmed me through my gray pullover. He knew I didn’t jock out like him. I was a bit of a geek. I preferred to stay in and play video games; but I hoped the home-cooked meals, muscle massages, and my love were enough. Yet, he posed with me in a selfie for his Facebook. He did his best to capture his good side and mine as well, but I didn’t have many good sides. Not like him. Leaning against him, I could feel his muscles and the bulge of his erection. I tried to think that it was for me, but he was still friends with his ex on Facebook. That was who the pictures were for. It was a silent competition between the two of them.

“Look at my cute boyfriend whom I snuggle with after a hard gym workout!” My boyfriend’s selfie implied. He’d take pictures of my home-cooked meals with heart emojis. Then some of us while we hung out with friends. All of this to “get back” at his ex. An emotionally manipulative asshole.

The type of asshole who posted obvious bulge pics on Facebook. He flaunted his body like it was God’s gift. He always did lewd gestures with his tongue and fingers. His photos always had him showing off his muscles, posing with other men, and partying. I tried to tell myself that my boyfriend was over him, because that dick would tease him. He would share my boyfriend’s secrets with his friends behind his back. He made my boyfriend do sexual things that made him uncomfortable. My boyfriend told me that his ex even had him wear a chastity belt to work. If he wanted it off, he’d have to beg his ex to unlock him, but his ex wouldn’t until my boyfriend submitted to him and sucked him off. This wasn’t even mentioning the times his ex cheated with other guys and gaslit my boyfriend into thinking it was his fault.

I kept think why my boyfriend had put up with it for so long. But I knew the answer.

It’s because he’s hot obviously. He had the abs, the shoulders, and the 12-inch cock that would make men put up with his shit. Someone like me had to rely on kindness and being a decent human being. I loved my boyfriend so much and wondered why he just didn’t settle down with me. If I was hot, then he would have proposed to me already. But I was just too kindhearted and unremarkable.

But I heard about a different website that could help me… It was an underground thing that was spread by word of mouth. A man walking down the street stopped me and looked me up and down. He said, “I think I got something for you.” He told me about the website and that it was built for “people like you.” The website promised to make you the “man of your lover’s dreams.” The website could make me his ex.

Well.. it did more than that. I entered my and my boyfriend’s information. It promised to turn me into someone my boyfriend loved. Someone he wanted with his whole body and mind. The next morning, I was in his ex’s body.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I played with his light-brown hair, so fair and soft unlike my original hair. I ran my hands over my biceps, then my abs. The first time I ever had abs! His body was so sensitive and I was so turned on my the sight of me controlling his ex’s body that I felt myself getting hard. I pulled down his underwear and saw the massive cock. I understood why so many people wanted this asshole now. I stroked one out right there. My jizz sprayed over my abs and chest. He had a long reach. I dug through his laundry hamper and pulled out clothes. They smelled ripe, but I noticed he didn’t have much clean clothes.

I had access to his memories and I knew that around this time he would be at the gym. That’s when I realized my boyfriend and his ex went around the gym at the same time. In his ex���s memories, I saw that they checked each other out while they worked out. They showered just a few feet apart. The whole time his ex would tease and mock my boyfriend by showing off his body to him. Not anymore.

I headed to the gym and found my boyfriend there. We made eye contact and throughout my workout, I watched my boyfriend watching me in the body of his ex. And let me tell you, it was hard to workout with a massive erection. I kept taking breaks to find ways to hide my boner. But this body was so hot, I eventually went to the showers to finish up. Then my boyfriend came in. He tried to keep things casual, saying hi and doing his shower. But I couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Babe, it’s me.” I then told my boyfriend everything that happened. How I switched bodies and how I was his ex now. My boyfriend was shocked but suddenly realized it was me when I told him I loved him. “Wouldn’t it be awesome if I stayed in this body?” I said, smiling. “You could have a sweet boyfriend and an incredibly hot one too.”

“But, I thought you hated him?” My boyfriend said. “Every time I mentioned what he did to me, you always got mad that someone treated me so badly.”

“Yes, but I know you like his body—don’t deny it. He’s pretty hot. I got to rub one out and I honestly want to see what else it can do.” I held my boyfriend and took a picture. I loved how I look and how small my boyfriend was now.

The next few weeks were awesome. I cared for my boyfriend and gave him the attention he needed. I cooked for him and let him top this hot body, something his ex would never let him do. The first time after he tried to pin me down (he’s shorter than my new body) and shot a load in my ass, he held me and told me he loved me. He asked if it was almost the right time to get married. I was excited, but kept my cool. I told him, let’s get used to the changes first. We kissed and he explored my body with his mouth.

Some of the new changes were that my boyfriend wanted me to go with him to the gym though. And I actually got into it. I hardly play video games anymore or do that geeky shit, but I love pumping iron. The guys at the gym also can’t help checking me out. My boyfriend started to get insecure, but I tried to reassure him that I loved him and wouldn’t cheat, unless he got fat. I meant it as a joke, but he took it pretty seriously. He started working out a bit more, and I loved the results actually. So sometimes I would poke his stomach just to give him a reminder. I found that my boyfriend also had trouble making me cum during sex. He tried his best to satisfy me, but I jokingly asked if he needed another guy to help. So now I top him. It’s just easier for us that way. I also noticed I was getting cocky. The past day I got sidetracked at the gym. I was chatting with these couple hotties and just having a casual flirt. I mean it’s not cheating unless I actually fuck them, right? Well, I told my boyfriend he needed to cook dinner since I was busy. He threw a big fit, so I just decided to eat some ass. The two bros I met at the gym took me back to their place and I went to town tonguing their holes and fingering them open. While I fucked one, the other jerked off and came on me. I didn’t even wash up when I got back home. I wanted my boyfriend to see he couldn’t take me for granted.

Now I don’t even care if my boyfriend goes with me to the gym as long as he is facedown on the bed when I get home so I can pound his ass. He’s so afraid that I’d leave him. I understand why his ex was so hard on him. Give him 12 inches and he tries to take a mile. You got to keep him down so he knows who the alpha is.

#male transformation #male tf #transform #male transform #transformation #nerd to jock #mental change #personality change #alpha #male body exhibit

[virgincels]

SUBSTITUTE LOVER !

ft. jack krauser x fem!reader, jack krauser x leon s. kennedy

tags. p in v, daddy-daughter incest, internalised homophobia, referenced domestic abuse, use of the f slur im so sorry, some kreon, smut, a little voyeurism, blood at the end

note. commission for @d10nyx !!!! feeding people what they want :3 nyxie wyxie i hope this is good n i hope u enjoy it!!!!’ LUV U MWAH.. ignore any mistakes… my editing sucks 😓 goes back n forth between krauser n reader pov pretty fast n the smut is a little boring 😓 pretend bootcamp is like not super top secret !!! also idk how american military works so ignore my attempt at that

As a young girl, you understand love to be an unconditional, non-negotiable and non-refundable thing. It’s human nature to love, it is your god given right to love and for your father to deny you of the only thing your heart knows to do—It’s downright cruel.

He’s a military man and that comes with perks. You get to visit his platoon and get an eyeful of bulging quads and strong jaws and sweaty abs— That is the only perk now that you think about it. Oh, and that cute blond dude who still has all his hair. Duh. Otherwise he wouldn’t be blond. He’s a total babe and when he smiles, blinking at you with feline eyes as he watches quietly from behind his bangs, you find yourself keeling over to support the weight of your aching heart.

(Pussyache, heartache, it’s all the same to you.)

Whenever you ask your dad what’s so special about him, why’s he got such shiny hair? What shampoo does he use? Is it a medical condition, does he have to keep the hair? Does his head get cold or something? He goes all stiff like you’ve asked too much of him, which you never have, you ask for nothing but love.

Ever since your mother left—Well, no it’s not even that. He didn’t change when she left. Dad is the same ol’ dad you’ve had for years. Jack is Jack and your mother isn’t going to change that, she didn’t change that, so she left and never looked back. She left you ‘cause you’re Jack’s girl and nothing is going to change that. You carry a part of your father wherever you go and that would be unwelcome in her house. She told you over the phone that she no longer needed all that medication - it was just your father.

Oh, he’s not so bad. Jack keeps you fed and clothed and what else are you meant to expect from a dad? No dads love is adequate to the way you love them. Never has and never will be.

Still, he’s changed and that you’re sure of.

His temper is short, you’re well aware. You live with the guy, of course you know all about it. He flips out when the toilet lid isn’t closed, and when you give him a gentle reminder that you don’t carry the same junk he does down there, Jack gives you the cold shoulder. It’s all about gentle parenting with your dad, but the sulking has escalated into full blown temper tantrums and you don’t know where you’ve gone wrong.

Dad’s never gotten physical. Until he does. And now you don’t remember a time where he was ever kind. You’re beaten into a pulp by the hand that feeds you and you’re not quite sure where it all went wrong, what you’ve done to be on the receiving end of such intense resentment.

All you’ve ever known is a man devoted to anger, but he’s not violent. Your dad is not violent. He’s the one who picked you up when you toppled over, he taught you how to ride a bike and he put you on his shoulders to see the world from his point of view— And that is it really. Nothing more, nothing less.

You don’t have daddy issues so to say, more so it’s your father that has issues in general, and those issues are untouched by any flame, they burn brighter than tiger eyes. It seems that they’ve started to fracture, and now the only thing that brings him relief is his fist on your supple skin, a cathartic end to a hard fucking day.

Let’s get one thing straight - Jack Krauser is not a faggot. Jack had a wife and he fucked that wife in the marriage bed once and they never fucked again. You were conceived on the first try.

A faggot couldn’t do that.

It starts with Leon S. Kennedy. He’s wet behind the ears and wet in his pink mouth and pink hole. He stares at Jack like he’s seen something nice, then he looks away a moment later, unable to hold his gaze.

Jack Krauser isn’t gay. It just gets lonely out here. It gets hard to keep his men in line and nothing scares them more than dick. Jack Krauser is not gay—And when Kennedy’s tight little hole cranks him in like a wine cork, it means nothing. This is how you get through to insolent brats, it’s the only way, no other method has worked as well as this.

If Jack Krauser was gay he would lounge in the bunk with Kennedy, he would tenderly wipe the sweat from his blond brows and kiss him stupid. But he does none of that. Kennedy is sent to shower, limping as he goes.

(Not before Jack gives him a nice hard smack on his backside and tells him to Pack it up, Boy Scout. Not before Leon presses his nose into the hollows of his neck, his boyish beam is that of a cat that got the cream, sweat gleaming to highlight the shape of his collarbones.)

So yeah. Jack is straight, and he can prove it. He would be able to prove it but the only bitch for miles left him. There’s you. But that’s fucked up. Jack wouldn’t go there.

Then you start to ask questions about Kennedy. And of course it’s him, with the petal lips and tawny lashes that remind Jack of toffee drizzled on coffee cake, of course he caught your attention— Of course he did.

(Like father, like daughter.)

You prod and he snaps, icy eyes a frigid landscape as his gaze pierces you with bone-chilling intensity. You shift from foot to foot, toying with loose threads at the hemline of your frayed nightdress.

“Sorry, dad.” You look down at your feet, wiggle your toes against the kitchen tiles and get sent into the edge of the counter when Jack lands a solid hit on your cheek.

Why, he oughta use some of that military training on you. Not the dick. Not ‘cause he’s gay, but because you’re his daughter. Obviously.

Definitely not ‘cause he’s gay.

Jack could fuck you if he really wanted. You have some, uh, assets. Yeah, you have tits, those are interesting. You have an ass, that’s nice. Got a pussy, an extra bonus. All of those are things that Jack loves. Really, he does, and he doesn’t need to prove it to anyone.

Jack takes your chin in his crushing grip, tilts your head to the left and then to the right, you tremble and make yourself small, clutching at the counter behind like you intend to saw yourself in half so your top half can make a quick escape.

“Dad…” Your little hand wraps around his wrist, fingers barely touching as you try to get him off, shaken up by his sudden burst of violence. “I’m sorry.”

He grunts, releasing you from his hold and watching your body crumple in on itself. You cup your cheek to check for damage, pressing the pads of your fingers into your jaw with a groan.

It throbs with each pulse of Jack’s heart.

You think your dad has a crush on the rookie. It might be a stretch, but he never looked at your mom that way. It transcends love and turns into hatred and heat ‘cause your dad is incapable of producing any positive feelings towards anyone ever. You would know that better than anyone, you know him better than anyone, better than he knows himself.

His tongue runs along his white canines as he watches Kennedy hold a plank and man, he’s got it bad for the rookie. You don’t blame him - look at that form, at that ass. Dad has good taste, he gets it! Now that the two of you have found some common ground, maybe he’ll stop backhanding you into next year.

Kennedy’s given mercy by your oh-so gracious father and his body caves in, hitting the mud with a soft thump—He gets up ass first and you suck in a breath at the same time your dad lets one out. His hips raise and his hands find grip in the ground before he plants his feet, lifting his body despite the discomfort that tinges his muscles. Kennedy hobbles away and you love watching him leave. Dad must think the same ‘cause he reaches down to adjust his cargos. Gross.

You catch them in the showers a week later.

You got bored waiting around for him, okay? The showers were your main priority—Not to see this, but to catch some hunks mid scrub down and turn the place into a porn set. Life has a funny way of taking all your wants and twisting them into half-wants. Seeing Leon naked? Great, amazing, no notes. Seeing your father naked? Dear fucking lord, you need a bullet put through your brain stat.

They're giving each other a muscle massage or whatever. Code for the most tender groping you have ever seen in your life. Dad cradles the back of Leon’s head sweetly. Jesus, you don’t think you’ve ever used that word to describe him. Their lips brush and Kennedy is the one that pulls back, Jack’s head moves forward to chase them, settling with ghosting kisses along the soft skin of Leon’s neck, dotted in cocoa dust moles and a protruding Adam’s apple that gets the same delicate treatment. Along with a quick lick that draws a moan from the base of Leon’s throat.

You think you might be intruding on something more personal than sex. Holy fuck, you didn’t know your dad could do personal, you didn’t know he had the ability to love so ardently. To love at all. What a dick. You don’t know whether to look away or not.

Like, Leon is—He’s cute. You like when his feathery lashes dust his cheeks each time he closes his eyes, you like how his body, soft with baby fat, gives away to the roughness of your father’s touch. The flesh of his hips divots when Jack grips them. Your father presses his back to the cool shower wall, the buttery flesh of Leon’s ass moulds to the shape of his fingers when he tugs him close to his broad chest— Cute, he has back dimples. Jack slots his thumbs in them, and then he makes the mistake of lifting his eyes from Leon’s angel face.

The running water is not enough to stop him from spotting you, head poked into the shower room as you gape. For your sake, you dip out the door to make your exit and head back to the car, not sure on whether you should be traumatised or enlightened by the possibly harrowing image that’s burned into your retinas like the worst form of LASIK.

The ride home is silent. Dad is silent most of the time, he talks but not to you. There’s one thing to talk about, but you doubt either of you want to touch on that.

Jack lets you in first. The door clicks shut behind him and you’re both alone. He’s always alone with you. He’s never missed his wife until this very moment. Not out of love for her, but out of pure convenience. She would break up the silence, she would remind him that he is in fact attracted to women and what you saw back there was nothing. Hell, he could give you another sibling if you asked—He could do that.

In one try, like a real man.

He could get it up, he can get it up, he only gets it up for women. Kennedy is the closest thing to a girl, alright? That’s all there is. Wait till you find out about what they do in prison. Every guy at camp has had a turn with Kennedy—That’s just how it works. It’s not about being gay, it’s not— It’s just tradition, isn’t it? Picking on pretty boys like that, it’s the only way to get rid of all that pent up testosterone or whatever it is that swelters within Jack.

When you turn on your heels to leave for your bedroom, Jack calls your name. You freeze so fast it’s almost comical. Like you’re playing musical chairs.

“Yes, dad?” Your gaze is stuck to your white socks, the print of the floorboards is mighty interesting.

His brow dips and his scowl morphs into a pained smile that brings you more fear than comfort, his hand is heavy on your shoulder and Jack thinks this expression suits you well.

“You think you're smart?” Barging in like that, making assumptions that only women would make—You don’t get it. You’ll never get it.

“No, sir.” The chill that runs down your spine straightens it.

“On your knees, girl.” The way you’re looking at him—He hates it. You think you got him all figured out, putting him together like a puzzle, but you’re missing one piece—He’s not gay.

“No,” you say while doing as he says.

(Kennedy does that, cries out No! as the plush of his ass meets Jack’s thighs, as he fucks himself like a faggot on a dick that belongs to a man who once had a wife, a man with a daughter.)

“Dad, no—Daddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t even see anything.” You hang your head, pleading with the ground as Jack fishes his soft cock from his cargos, refusing to meet the tip with your eyes.

Your apology is lost to the softness of his dick, hanging huge and limp against his thigh like a deflated balloon. Fuck—No, no, it’s not because Jack is gay, it’s the daughter thing. You’re his daughter, and to get hard at the sight of your daughter would only ever elicit a prison sentence.

“Daddy,” you try again, cradling what you have with him close to your chest, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—Please, daddy, I don’t—Dad.” You fail to plead your case, you fail to garner any interest from his cock. “If it’s about—I don’t like him, I don’t like Leon, dad, you can have him, he’s all yours I swear—Just don’t do this to me, daddy, please.”

Jack’s cock twitches at the mere mention of his name.

“What did I tell you ‘bout running that stupid mouth of yours, girl? Where are your fuckin’ manners?” He rubs the ruddy tip along the crease of your jutting lips, the bottom one trembles. “Thought I taught you well.”

“No… No, don’t do that, dad—God, no.” Your complaints are snuffed out by the fat dick that stuffs itself down your throat, half-hard and thick enough to be a choking hazard.

(It poses a threat to you, but not to Kennedy. Man can that kid suck cock, with a face like that he’s lucky he’s not begging for his life.)

You gag and Jack pinches your nose. If he had a son, he would’ve taught him to play ball. But he’s stuck with a daughter, and the most you can do is dig your nails into his thighs, mucusy spit hanging from your chin in stringy strands.

“You’re made for this,” Jack tells you, and he’s right. Biologically, those lips of yours have evolved to maximum pout to suck cock. They bear resemblance to Leon’s—The vein on the underside of his dick throbs. Jack’s jaw is offset as his teeth grind together, splintering into thin shards of bone. Not the fucking time to be thinking of the rookie and his floppy hair, softer than cotton beneath Jack’s fingers, the rookie who is shaven clean save the shadow that lines his lips, the rookie that sports hardened lines on his otherwise plush abdomen, pink skin leading to an even pinker dick—Holy shit, what’s wrong with him?

At this pace, Jack’s going to contact a fucking therapist—Have it out with his bitch wife. That’s exactly what it is. Sexual frustration he's not been able to take out on your mother.

His cock slips from your mouth, it rests heavy on your face, casts a shadow as you cower at the sheer size. “Dad…” You cough wetly, hacking up bile that you push back down with a pained gulp. “Daddy… Don’t do it to me, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to look, dad, I’m not—I’m not mad at you.”

He scoffs, lifting you by the Peter Pan collar of your floral blouse—You look like a fucking Mormon. That pisses him off. Jack’s not a Mormon or a faggot, there are so many accusations in the air and it all rises to crescendo. You’re bent over the dining table, the fullness of your skirt is hoisted up to ruche around your waist in makeshift pleats and your white cotton panties are dangling around your ankles.

The lips of your puffy cunt cushion his dick and Jack starts to feel a little queasy. Not because—Not ‘cause of the pussy. It’s not that. It’s the daughter thing. Seriously—There’s no time to waste, Jack forces himself into your pussy before his dick folds in on itself. As he pistons himself in and out of your only partially wet cunt, it feels like nothing. Jack is numb.

Feels nothing, hears nothing—Sees nothing but him. The anger inside of him rises like a devastating wave, ready to engulf every skyscraper in its path. You end up being on the receiving end as you have been for as long as you’ve been alive—His very own punching bag. What else are kids for, huh?

Your stubborn pussy pushes him out, you dig your nails into the glazed wood of the table, clawing like they might find purchase in the grooves. Dad, dad, daddy, dad—It doesn’t work on him, you do nothing for him. When you cry, he doesn’t feel sad, and when your cunt clamps down on him, it brings him no pleasure.

A hand comes to rest on your back, forcing you into a sharp arch as Jack’s hips smack into yours at a bruising pace. Somewhere along the line, a very thin line that Jack snorts, it blurs—Your salty tears become the tang of Leon’s sweat, your hips become buttercream smooth in his grip, and your pussy—Your hole milks Jack for all he’s worth. The shroud has lifted from his shoulders and Jack feels weightless.

You lift your head, blood leaking from your nose, it congeals in fat lumps on your skin. “Daddy…” You sniffle, having had your head held down, grinding your bloody nose to a pulp against the smooth of the dinner table.

“Clean yourself up, girl.” Jack rolls his shoulders back, fists tightly balled by his side as he has proved nothing. Nothing at all. He’ll have to try again. No father of yours is a faggot. Can’t do that to his little girl.

(Excuse after fucking excuse.)

#jack krauser x reader #jack krauser smut #krauser smut #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #jack krauser x you #krauser x reader #dead dove do not eat

[chrollohearttags]

i love musician eren and his influencer wife !!!!! we need more content abt eren being jealous 😜

you know what? This is too cute because spoiler alert: Mr. Jaeger is very jealous when it comes to miss (y/n). And not in a possessive, toxic way but in the most adorable, bratty way.

imagine doing a photo shoot or starring in the music video of another artist, or just in general and someone having their hands on you for any given reason…he would not be happy! I mean, a brown ass man, full blown pouting about the fact that someone held you or put a kiss on your cheek. You come home and he’s on the couch, arms folded across his chest with lip stuck out like a child. He asks you how your day went and you can tell something’s wrong but he’s trying to be cool about it! “You looked pretty today.” Or “..you looked real good in that video.” All the while, he won’t even look you in the eye. It’s so sad, it’s almost cute! So you start scrolling through other pictures and you happen to land on one with another artist hugging you. And finally, you realize what’s wrong. “Oh my gosh, baby. You’re jealoussss, that’s so cute!” Of course he denies it though and dismisses you! Waving you away when you try to kiss him and acting all bratty. “I’m not jealous, I just don’t understand why he’s all on you like that. Fuck is his problem?” He knows he can’t stop you from your grind, hell, it’s what he finds most attractive about you so he just tries to play it off. But God forbid, he scrolls the comment section and sees ball players and other rappers trying to spit game under your newest post in a bikini or some skimpy dress where you’re twerking and oh my gosh, all hell is about to break loose. “Can your man fight?” And he’s quick to respond. “Yeah and I shoot too. Don’t die behind that one.” Just out of control.

or when you decide to come home after a long day and he’s been in the house, missing you, watching your story and seeing other men in the mentions or trying to get near you..he most certainly likes to take his frustrations out. You don’t notice until things get more intense but that sex hits a little differently when he’s mad. The two of you start making out and he puts his hand around your throat, sucking on your tongue, kissing on your neck and nipples ..just trying to drive you crazy. Trying to rip you up out your clothes, forcing your legs open; he’s doing everything that you love. Ask him what’s gotten into him and he answers so aggressively. “I missed you..looking so fucking good today.” Angry about the fact that someone else was all up on his baby (y/n). So he has a little something to prove. And he doesn’t slow up. He eats you out for nearly an hour as revenge for being away from him. Barely even speaks but you hear him moaning against your mound, constantly sucking on your clit and making you come. “Babeeee, I can’t take it.” You can beg all you want but this is all his and he’ll eat until he’s satisfied. Pinning your legs back and fucking like he’s trying to have you out of commission for a few days. Tearing your shit UP. His hand on the headboard, standing up in it while he’s pounding you. Giving you the greatest dick ever. “Why are you fucking me like thissss?” Whining while you try to push at his abs but he just slaps your hands away and hisses at you. “It’s mine so I’ll do what I want..this my pussy, right? Tell me..” And he knows the answer but he needs the validation..to know that no one could ever take his place!

#black fem reader #aot x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #musician eren #musician x influencer au #musician au #black reader smut #black reader #black fanfiction #black fanfic writer #smut fanfiction #eren #eren x black reader #eren jeager smut #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren x black y/n #eren x reader #eren aot #eren yeager x y/n #eren headcanons #eren imagines #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger x black fem reader #eren yeager x reader #attack on titan eren #eren yeager x black reader #eren yeager headcanons #eren jaeger headcanons #aot eren #cherry’s asks 🍒

[teyums]

okay so i can see this idea in my head SO well, but i’m not a writer. i love your writing so i really hope you’ll somehow be able to put this together. 😭 can i request #3, #7, #11 and #17 from the modern au prompts, with Lo’ak? So ig like a mini fic where reader is super annoyed by Lo’ak and the fact that they live together but is slowly starting to like him and it shows through how she acts! i’m srry if it’s too much </3

ofc sweetie, dw i see your vision! honestly, the modern au prompts do require some background since the setting is switched, so throwing a few of them together at once is a perfect idea.💗 this was fun to write, i hope it’s to your liking! sixth commission for the party. wc: 1,724

Human!Lo’ak x fem reader

prompt: #3, #7, #11, and #17 from modern au prompts

warnings: none!

It had been a little over a month now since you and Lo’ak found out that your supposed ‘temporary’ lease, wasn’t so temporary.

If someone had told you that you’d be living under the same roof as the youngest Sully brother, you would’ve looked at them like they were crazy. But back then when you made the decision, rent was ridiculously high, and you needed a roommate as soon as possible— just until you could catch up on your bills.

You’d asked almost everyone in your contact list to sign in on your lease before you’d picked up the phone and called him. And though he was a last resort, Lo’ak was someone you knew fairly well. Him and your brother were pretty good friends back in highschool and had him over pretty often, so scribbling your signature at the bottom of the contract next to his hadn’t worried you at the time.

It was only for three months, anyway. Or it was supposed to be. Then before you knew it, three months turned to four; four months into five.

And as each day went on, you were beginning to realize things about him that you could not stand, as if your life wasn’t annoying enough. Kudos to your shitty landlord.

If there had been an award for irritating the hell out of you, Lo’ak would have the trophy displayed on the shelf above his bed.

You were someone who liked to keep a very neat space and you hated when even a single thing was out of order. And Lo’ak, as chaotic as he is, was exactly the opposite.

You’d find lone pairs of his socks in the living room, on the couch, and even once— on top of the fridge.

“Lo’ak, for the love of God, stop leaving your dirty socks in my kitchen!” You’d yelled that day, barging into his room and dumping the armful you’d found around the apartment, down onto his startled figure.

He’d been laying in his bed with nothing other than boxers on before you kicked his door in, yet he made no move to cover himself, and you made no move to drop your gaze towards the toned abs on his stomach, even though you wanted to.

Luckily, you were able to pass off the flush of your cheeks as unbridled anger in that moment.

“Okay, okay, sorry. Jeez, someone’s got their panties in a twist.” He’d held his hands up on either side of his head in mock surrender as he spoke. Your eye had twitched so hard, you were almost certain it’d get stuck like that.

It aggravated you to your core how he’d constantly blast music with zero regard for the fact that your rooms shared a wall. And when you’d bang your fist against the thin barrier between you, telling him to turn it down, he’d respond by kicking the volume up a few notches to drown out your yelling.

Or other times, when he’d perch himself on the couch in the living room, as if he didn’t have his own room. It wouldn’t be an issue if he actually used the tv, wasn’t perpetually shirtless, or careless to the fact that you liked to invite your girlfriends over pretty often. And to make matters worse, he’d even made a pass at one of them one day, and she’d actually blushed. Gross.

“You are aware that you have your own room, right? Why the hell are you always sitting here?” You snapped, and they’d tore their gazes from each other, both looking at you with puzzled expressions as if you’d overreacted.

Maybe now, you see that you did, because after they’d left he told you he could’ve sworn he saw the steam puffing from your ears.

And yes, while these were seemingly insignificant things, you couldn’t help how much they ticked you off.

But what irked you even more than the random socks you’d find in the kitchen, or his childish antics that had you turning on the captions to your shows, were the little moments where you’d found yourself… caring about him.

“What do you mean you’re going to be away for a week?” You’d asked that day, arms crossed as you leaned your back against the countertop.

“It’s just a fishing trip my dad forces me and my brother to go on every year. Trust me, I’d get out of it if I could.” He scoffed out a laugh, and watched as you nodded and shifted your gaze off to the side.

“Wait a minute,” He quirked a brow and your heart skipped for some reason when he inched closer. He leaned both hands against the counter, on either side of your hips and effectively caged you between his arms. “Why do you care?” He tilted his head.

The two of you were face to face while his eyes searched yours for an answer. He hadn’t even touched you but for some reason your legs nearly turned to putty.

You were quick to come up with an excuse and kept your arms folded over your chest, though the subtle flush of your cheeks contrasted terribly with your reasoning.

“Oh, I don’t. I’m just making sure I have all the details so I can cherish the days while they last.” You quipped.

“Mm, alright then.”

His lips puckered slightly and his head turned when he nodded, but it was clear he didn’t believe you. You tried not to make it obvious when you heaved out a breath you’d been holding once he retreated back to his room.

You thought you were in the clear, until you’d heard his voice project from down the hall.

“I leave tomorrow, try not to miss me too much!”

It’d already been a month since that odd exchange between you two, yet the memory clouded your mind every time you tried to deny the odd feeling that made your stomach flip.

You figured a moment like that was just a fluke, something you could easily brush off and leave to your forgotten memories. But now, it‘s well past midnight, and Lo’ak still hasn’t come home. And for some reason you’re still awake with that same fluttering feeling, except this time it’s worse. You’re unable to sleep because you’re actually worried about him.

You’ve checked his location at least five times and you’re resisting the urge to bite your nails off as you pace the small confines of your room. The small ‘L’ you’ve been staring at on your screen hasn’t moved from its spot on the map in the last hour, and you‘re seriously starting to get scared.

What if something happened to him?

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide the only way to calm your nerves, is to swallow your pride, and just call him. Lo’ak always picks up your calls, so if he didn’t this time, maybe you wouldn’t feel so ridiculous for assuming something was going on. Maybe then, you wouldn’t feel crazy for thinking the worst, for thinking that his car was somewhere upside down in a ditch-

*Click*

“Hello?”

Lo’ak’s slightly fuzzied voice cutting in from the phone held up to your ear has your spine straightening at attention. You blink a few times as your shoulders relax and place a hand over the fast beating of your heart, and it takes him repeating himself for you to realize you haven’t answered with more than a relieved exhale.

“H-hey, I haven’t heard from you in a while, and It’s almost one in the morning…”

There’s a pause before he responds.

“Yeah, I’m at my boy’s crib. I stepped away to answer your call, though. Is everything alright?” Perhaps you were mistaken, but he sounded the smallest bit concerned.

“Yes!” How fast your answer comes has you silently mouthing curses at yourself, and you repeat it, calmly this time with a clearing of your throat. “Yes, I’m fine. Just checking in.”

Another pause.

“Hold on, you-“ It was nearly impossible not to hear the shit-eating grin on his face through the phone as he spoke. “You miss me, don’t you?”

You’re denying his claim almost instantly.

“I do not!”

The sound of him chuckling on the other end has a smile curling your lips before you quickly get rid of it, along with the butterflies swarming your belly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon.” He jests.

You fake a gag and it only makes him laugh harder.

“Hell no, please, take your time. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t like… dead in a ditch, or something.” You murmur, the confidence in your tone dwindling with each word spoken.

“Oh, my apologies. So you care about me, then.” It’s not even a question, it’s a statement, because he already knows the answer.

“You know what, I hope you have your keys, cause I’m not letting your ass in again.”

“Wait-“

You hastily press your finger to the red X, tossing your phone from your hands like it burns as you fall backwards onto your bed.

“Yeah, I’m definitely an idiot.” You sigh.

And after only three steady knocks not even an hour later, the intensity of your bluff is made known when you open the door in nothing but a large t-shirt, to meet a smug Lo’ak standing in the hallway.

“Mhm, thought you weren’t gonna open the door?” He teases.

“Just get your ass in here, I’d rather not let everybody and their mother see me without pants.” And with a roll of your eyes and a grab of his wrist, you pull him into your shared apartment, shutting the door behind him.

You’re ready to call it a night and go to bed until he stops dead in his tracks, his back facing you before he turns on his heels. Your stance shifts as his eyes trail from your head to your feet, and shyness immediately takes over for a reason you’d rather not read deeper into.

“What?”

His head cocks to the side, then he answers.

“Is that my shirt?”

Your lids raise, eyes widening suddenly as you quickly drop your head to look down at the graphic t-shirt you’d mindlessly thrown on— though you vaguely recall realizing it was his the second you’d caught a whiff of how good his cologne smelled.

You go to scratch your head, mind racing for a way to explain why it was even in your possession, let alone on your body. Crossing your arms and acting nonchalant is the fastest recovery you can think of, and that’s what you go with.

“Well if you’re gonna leave your clothes around everywhere, then I’m gonna assume they’re free game.” You shrug and quickly shuffle past him, into the direction of your room, and you miss the way a knowing grin splits his lips.

Likes + Comments + Reblogs are much appreciated 💗

©teyums 2023

#— teyums’ 2k party #lo’ak sully #lo’ak x fem!reader #lo’ak x you #lo’ak x reader #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #lo’ak fluff #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak avatar #lo’ak fic #lo’ak fanfiction #lo’ak x human reader #avatar twow

[angelfoxx]

Please go on about sub Dehya 🙏🙏🙏

i’ve been gone too long and nobody else has seen my vision so i’m back to feed u. sub!dehya who meets up with you at the tavern after a hard day of merc’ing and gets something stronger than usual. when you ask her about it, she just laughs and tells you that she pulled something in her back today, no big deal, she just wants something to let her relax and take the edge off.

sub!dehya, who finds herself back at your place, only you’re giggling as you work your hands against the column of her back and she’s biting her lip so hard she can taste blood because if she doesn’t, she’s gonna moan and you’re gonna hear her. and that’s embarrassing. because it won’t be deep and growly, it’ll be whiny and breathless and god, what if you think it’s annoying? ugly?

but oh, the way you’re working her back in your hands, your hands…god, your hands, the way your hands…

sub!dehya who, when a whine slips out between her clenched teeth, goes rigid so fast it pushes your hands away. sub!dehya, who sits up on her elbows and immediately starts apologizing for making noise because i didn’t mean to, that just felt really good—i’m so sorry, i’m so, so sorry.

sub!dehya, who stares at you with wide eyes when you laugh and brush it off with an easy wave. when you tell her it’s not a big deal, and you’re glad you can help—and when you throw a halfhearted tease into the mix (you’re a little sensitive, then?)she flushes fifteen shades darker and visibly short-circuits.

sub!dehya, who, despite your insistence on going back to trying to work out the knots in her back, is stuck on her noise and how you reacted. so sub!dehya, who sits up on her elbows again, much to your dismay, and looks you dead in the eyes and asks, point-blank, if you like her. like, not just as a friend. your hand is still on her back and so, despite her bravery in asking you straight-up, you can feel the way her heart starts beating faster and her breathing gets heavier and oh, the poor girl is shaking.

you aren’t stupid. you know how she feels about you. she’s tall and beefy and draws attention and so her “sneaky” glances at you haven’t been so sneaky and her “discreet” once-overs haven’t been so discreet and obviously the girl is helpful but the way sub!dehya drops everything to help you with anything, be it commissions or chores, and the way she grins at everyone’s praise but beams at yours…oh, she isn’t so good at keeping those feelings invisible.

so sub!dehya, who feels that surge of confidence start to ebb and feels almost sick with anxiety just as you grin and lean forward and holy fucking shit you’re straddling her ass and leaning over her side as you smirk and ask, voice honeyed, why?

sub!dehya, who short-circuits and swallows and aw, all those big muscles can’t protect her now, against you, because you’re inside of her, you’re under her skin and beneath her bones and you’re choking her heart like a vice in your hands. she starts to back off; you’re suddenly too close and you’re laughing, and she can’t take that. she barks out a breathless laugh and she starts to roll onto her back, hands pawing for a hold on the floor as she looks at you and looks away and tells you stop it, don’t do that. and you say do what? i’m not doing anything and she says yes you are, you know you are. stop it.

and sub!dehya, who gets fully on her back now and suddenly has you sitting on her lower stomach, legs splayed casually to either side, hands reaching down around her waist and thumbs skimming across her abs, all of which clench like clockwork under your touch. sub!dehya who holds her breath when you tilt your head and tell her no, really, i’m not doing anything. what do you think i’m doing? and she wants to reply with being mean but she can’t find the words. because for some reason, they come out sounding more like kiss me and then when she tries to correct herself they come out more like please and she can’t get the words right, but suddenly that’s okay, because you’re laughing again but then you’re leaning down and forking a hand through her hair and then you’re…so close, and she’s watching your face get so close it’s blurry, and…

…and sub!dehya, who’s waited for so long, shudders and gasps into your mouth as you kiss her and you taste sun and sand under a fresh layer of cherry lipstick

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #dehya smut #dehya x reader #angelfoxx

[moraygrotto]

Chapter 2 of Xiè Lián's story!

Many, many thanks to @askbloatedbellyblog for commissioning this fic!

This is a stuffing, bloating, measuring, and referenced vore story featuring Xiè Lián from TGϹF with some HuāLián. It's also a direct sequel to this fic, so please open this link to read it first !

Enjoy! 🍁🧡

~🍁~

Xie Lian’s meals thereafter were all rather large. By almost a full week later, he had not had another proper training session like his first. No tables were laid out entirely with food for him, but he made sure that every time he ate, his stomach was always left packed full. Often, his fullness came with Hua Cheng’s aid, for the demonic devotee seemed more eager than ever to serve his beloved prince.

For Xie Lian’s part, he found it odd that daily meals were now part of his training. In his life as a quasi-member of the newly re-established Heavenly Court, he spent much of his time training his spirit and muscles to address concerns in his territory, and then came home to share hearty meals with his husband.

He still worked out now, still paid due attention to his strength and stamina, but each meal had now become a challenge, a thrilling new avenue for struggle, strain, and personal growth. His human worshipper and their strange request occupied his mind; he became devoted to them as could be.

Hua Cheng provided more food than ever, often in opposition to Xie Lian’s pleas to let him cook, fastidiously making sure his god was well-fed.

“I am arranging another training feast for you,” he told him at one of such meals, lounging on his side before the low table. “How would Your Highness feel about tomorrow?”

“I’d be happy to,” Xie Lian said, mouth full of a bite of chicken. “I think I’m seeing growth, but it’s hard to tell.” After swallowing, he laid a hand on his belly, and was greeted only by the six firm rises of his bulky abs. Being an active martial artist and so well in shape, he could gorge himself all he wanted at regular meals, and it would still be difficult to tell that his stomach was expanding. However, this ever-so-regular dinner had just begun.

Hua Cheng blew on a spoonful of soup. “How would you care to take a measurement tonight, and use that as a baseline?”

A measurement? He must mean of the girth his belly reached after eating. “But this isn’t an intense feast,” Xie Lian blurted out. “I’m not sure it would accurately reflect my true capacity.”

“That’s certainly true,” said Hua Cheng, after gulping down his bite of soup. “I’d promise, though, to keep the measure between you and me. The world doesn’t need to know such details about Your Highness, and if they do, it should be a number reflecting your belly’s size at its most godly.”

Hua Cheng, in all his Ghost King’s self-assuredness, was letting himself blush. Xie Lian could not help but find him cute. 

“Alright,” he replied, “we can take one little measurement. Let’s do it again after tomorrow’s training, though. That reading will be a bit better, yes?”

“Of course!” Hua Cheng chirped, and drained his bowl before standing up.

“I’ll still eat well tonight, though!” Xie Lian assured him, digging into his food as Hua Cheng went to the shelves across the room.

With lightning precision, Hua Cheng selected a drawer. After sliding it open, his gentlemanly fingers extracted a long, soft tape measure, white with its units printed on in red. He then returned to sit by the table, unfurling and curling it, looping it idly around his fingers as he gazed calmly at Xie Lian.

“Bored?” Xie Lian said, lifting a mouthful of rice to his lips.

Hua Cheng shook his head rapidly. “I could never be bored watching Gege eat,” he replied.

It took a while, at Xie Lian’s deliberate pace, to finish his food. As usual, he felt pleasantly stuffed, the pressure of the large meal inside him like the burn of well-worked muscles after a good session of exercise. He pressed a comfortable, gut-rumbling burp into one fist, and smiled up at Hua Cheng. “San Lang,” he said at last, “I’m ready.”

“Gege’s words are like music to this devotee’s ears,” Hua Cheng said. He waved his hand, and in a flurry of demonic magic, the dishes stacked themselves at the corner of the table.

Xie Lian swigged down the last dregs of tea from his cup, feeling the liquid sink into the already bloated space within him, and placed it atop the table. “Shall I stand up?” he asked.

“However you prefer,” Hua Cheng replied, “though standing up would grant this humble San Lang more of His Highness to touch and adore…”

Stretching his work-weary thighs, then, Xie Lian rose. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said. “What a needy boy I have for my partner.” He then stretched his arms up, shoulders cracking pleasantly, full belly jutting out for Hua Cheng to admire as the latter stood and walked over to Xie Lian’s side.

“But of course I’ll oblige him,” Xie Lian said softly, scritching a hand through Hua Cheng’s fine hair. “After all, I must ever strive for magnanimity.”

“Your Highness, so noble,” Hua Cheng simpered, voice muffled as he nuzzled into Xie Lian’s shoulder. “So handsome, too, and with a stomach so big… It was hardly this big before dinner, Your Highness. You must have eaten sooo much…”

“You wanted me to eat!” Xie Lian said, raising his arms as Hua Cheng touched and caressed all around his middle. He was about to chide him further to quit teasing and take out his tape measure already, but fell silent at the touch of something cool and smooth at his silk-clad abdomen. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, stroking Hua Cheng’s back. “But, I think you might need to lift up your head and look to see where the widest part of my belly is to measure, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng, Xie Lian’s very own Ghost King, gave a little groan, then pulled his head away reluctantly. “I’ll be good for Gege,” he said.

As Xie Lian stood with his arms raised patiently, Hua Cheng knelt, tall figure sinking to the level of Xie Lian’s abdomen. With careful hands, he snaked the tape measure around his post-meal gut. He began making small adjustments to its height and positioning, and he looked so studious, Xie Lian could not hold in a laugh, making his belly jump and disrupting Hua Cheng’s work. As was often the case, Hua Cheng’s entire attention was trained on Xie Lian.

Xie Lian was a god of martial arts. He could stay still. It was, nevertheless, difficult, with Hua Cheng so restless. “San Lang,” he whispered, “your carefulness is appreciated, but your fingers are so cold. They tickle!”

“Ah!” Hua Cheng said, and paused. “Please forgive this San Lang!”

It took Xie Lian a moment to realize that Hua Cheng had made his fingers warmer. “That’s better,” he said through a chuckle of mirth, “but I really meant hurry up!”

Hua Cheng laughed as well. “As you wish,” he said. His hands made one smooth, full circle around Xie Lian’s abdomen, then came together at the spot where the tape measure met its other end. “Impressive,” he cooed.

“What is it?” Xie Lian asked.

“A perfect forty cun,” he replied in a glowing voice. “Your Highness expanded so much.”

“Only forty,” Xie Lian said pensively.

Worry flashed in Hua Cheng’s eye. “Does Gege not feel satisfied with that number?”

“No,” Xie Lian said, placing both hands on his belly and examining himself ruefully. “It is a person I’m training to eat, after all. I want my physical form to be as capable as it can be for the task, and unfortunately, where I’m at won’t cut it.”

Hua Cheng frowned.

Xie Lian knew Hua Cheng. He was probably thinking of ways to obliterate Xie Lian’s discontent, ideas cartwheeling over each other through his mind as to how he could stretch Xie Lian’s stomach for him, wielding the full might of his supernatural power if necessary.

Smiling down at him, Xie Lian shook his head. “This is something I need to improve for myself, San Lang. I’m so grateful for the help you’ve given me so far, and I hope you’ll continue to be with me every step of the way.” As the tape measure fell away from Xie Lian’s middle and through Hua Cheng’s fingers, Xie Lian leaned down over his own paunch, and gave Hua Cheng a kiss on the forehead. “Like measuring my belly,” he said softly. “You’re doing such a good job. But this progress can only come incrementally. Do not worry for me. I am a martial artist; I am used to hard work.”

Looking up at Xie Lian, Hua Cheng took one of his hands, and pressed a reverent kiss to its back. “As Your Highness wishes,” he said after breaking away. “You have all my devotion. If there is anything you need, at any time during this process, do not hesitate to ask me. I will do all I can for you.”

Xie Lian chuckled, and petted his hair. “Half the time, you know what I need even before I do, and are there in the blink of an eye!”

Hua Cheng beamed.

“So, perhaps,” Xie Lian said in a soft, babying tone of voice, “San Lang would like to come cuddle with Gege before bed? I have a big day tomorrow, after all.”

“Absolutely,” Hua Cheng said, voice dripping with solemnity.

“Besides,” he added, continuing to play with his soft hair, “you will need to familiarize yourself with a forty-cun belly on me now, if you hope to at all!”

Immediately, Hua Cheng pressed his head against Xie Lian’s side, brazenly squishing his hands into his postprandial bloat. “That’s right,” he said dreamily. “Gege is mighty; Gege will improve, and improve, and improve…”

“And Gege will get bigger, and bigger, and bigger,” Xie Lian finished for him. “But right now, he would like to lie down. Okay, San Lang?”

“Okay~”

As night fell, the pair turned in together, cuddled up in bed, sharing warmth amidst the deepening autumn chill. Hua Cheng pressed himself close to Xie Lian, as if he, too, wished he could become part of him, no doubt seeking contact with every curve of Xie Lian’s body, memorizing its shape, fighting fruitlessly against time while it digested back down to its usual lithe muscularity.

Soon, Xie Lian sank into a deep, comfortable sleep, grateful for his Hua Cheng and his godly metabolism.

The next morning, Xie Lian was awoken by the sound of his own stomach, whining with piteous want. He cracked his eyes open, and looked around the room. Hua Cheng was nowhere to be found. Slowly, he sat up, and stretched, then ran a hand down his tummy. All of the previous night’s bloating was gone, leaving behind only his firm abdominal muscles—he was lithe as ever again, thanks to his hardworking digestive system. He smiled. A day of stretching himself to new limits was ahead of him.

“San Lang!” he called. “Where have you run off to?”

“Your Highness,” came the voice of Hua Cheng from outside their little room. The quality of his voice sounded different, but Xie Lian could not place how.

Nevertheless, the mere reminder of Hua Cheng’s presence made him brighten up. “Good morning, my love!” he called back. “Give me a moment to get ready, and then I will come find you!”

In spite of how he planned to spend the first half of his day, Xie Lian performed his morning stretches carefully. He figured that if he were really going to stretch himself to the limit, it followed that his body needed to be stretchy. What was more, a stuffed enough tummy might have him stuck in place for a while, and if any of his muscles stiffened or even cramped while he was sitting, feeding, and digesting, he would sorely regret not having attended to them with the usual care.

Centuries prior, he would have cringed at the thought of eating so much he could not move. Now, knowing that he and his godly status were safe under Hua Cheng’s care, he allowed himself to indulge in the idea, the sheer vulnerability of it. At his previous session, in the little cabin on the beach, he had felt so good being full, especially as his belly began to digest, and Hua Cheng had rubbed him attentively. He was a new and different man from his past self. This Xie Lian could welcome moments of softness with open arms.

Smiling, he then began to change into his day clothes. 

Frowning down at the belt around his waist, he thought about how tight it would become in the span of one morning. If he could fit as much inside his tummy as he hoped to, then the fabric would no doubt need to open; he would be in pain otherwise.

He tied his belt somewhat low on his body. The amount of cloth that made it up was simply not long enough to accommodate his desired waist size. He would have to tie it all the way beneath his belly, if he were to expand to a size fit for swallowing people. Such an arrangement did not fit his aesthetic sense, but he supposed, tying it now around his hungering middle, that he would have to settle for it. Cutting a different physical form meant making adjustments, and Xie Lian was nothing if not well-acquainted with change.

After tying his hair up into his graceful half-bun, he slid open the bedroom door. What greeted his eyes froze him in his tracks.

Instead of the cozy study which had before lay on this side of the wall, the space was wide open, with high, palatial ceilings, and distant, red-painted walls. Silver decorations hung all around, and stood atop a veritable sea of sturdy, round tables. At the far end of this space which could only be called a banquet hall, there stood a stage, where a clutch of dancers in flowing robes swayed to quiet music. To Xie Lian’s side, near the wall, sat a massive, jewel-encrusted chair, heading the biggest table of them all.

Before Xie Lian had the chance to call out to him, Hua Cheng was by his side. “Your Highness,” he said softly, snaking a hand around Xie Lian’s waist, “how do you feel?”

Xie Lian gazed at the huge nearby table, and saw several plates of food steaming atop it. Footsteps and chattering lost to the room’s spacious echo, a few servants bustled about, laying the neighboring tables with a few dishes each.

“Oh, San Lang,” Xie Lian said.

“Is Gege pleased?”

He took another moment to take in his surroundings, and nodded. “I’m reminded of you everywhere I look.”

Hua Cheng smiled, and, with the slightest pressure at his waist, guided him to the immense, sparkling throne. “Then,” he said, “you should see a lot of yourself in here, too. I take my inspiration from only one source, you see.”

Xie Lian could not hold back a chuckle. It was sweet that Hua Cheng could think of him as so grand, even when he was still bleary-eyed from bed, and dressed in his old white clothes. Guided by Hua Cheng, he let himself take a seat in the chair.

He sighed, somewhat entranced by the dancers as he relaxed into his seat. The smell of incense hung faintly in the air, and silver tableware, furniture, and decorations gleamed every which way he looked.

Suddenly, he was startled by the touch of something on his stomach. Hua Cheng’s long fingers were walking all around the still-flat area, pressing a little, getting a feel for the chiseled muscles below.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered, “that tickles…”

Hua Cheng muttered a droll apology, and smoothed his hand to caress gentle circles with his palm. “Your Highness,” he said, “are you ready for a deliciously wholesome breakfast?”

“I believe I am,” Xie Lian replied sweetly, squeezing his hand in his. “The next time you touch here, it will be much, much more full.”

“I have no doubt,” Hua Cheng said, then snapped his fingers.

At once, the bustling servants rushed to Xie Lian’s table, filling his plate with food, pouring a silken stream of what appeared to be oolong tea into his cup.

“Thank you,” he said, making those demons closest to him giggle and smile. In their delight, they actually splashed some tea over the edge of his cup. 

They froze, eyes going wide.

A noise came from Hua Cheng, his very spiritual presence at Xie Lian’s side turning stormy, but Xie Lian held up his hand.

“It’s alright,” he said, picking up the teacup, and using a corner of his sleeve to soak up the liquid clinging to its base. He took a sip, and smiled. “Mmm,” he said, “it’s perfectly brewed. Everybody makes mistakes sometimes, and it would be such a pity for Lord Hua to punish a fellow in his employ who is so good at making tea, right?”

Nodding diffidently, the demon scurried off.

Hua Cheng took Xie Lian’s wrist in his hand, and in a moment, the sleeve was completely clean and dry. “You know,” Hua Cheng said, “the demon who poured the tea might not be the same one who brewed it.”

“They’re all trying so hard,” Xie Lian replied, patting his hand lovingly. “All for you and me. It pays off to treat one’s servants nicely, my dear.”

“I suppose,” Hua Cheng sighed. “Then one of them might ask their lord to consensually eat them.”

Xie Lian laughed. “Exactly.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Xie Lian spotted a squat demon carrying a large bowl over to him from a neighboring table. Quietly, he breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed like, similarly to how Feng Xin and Mu Qing had fed him last time, Hua Cheng and his servants would help him decide what to eat. There was so much before him and all around that he would have trouble choosing on his own.

Hua Cheng seemed to notice, and ran a hand through Xie Lian’s hair. “All you need to do is relax,” he said, and Xie Lian could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes, Lord Hua,” Xie Lian teased, and leaned back into the chair.

As the cool, flaxen pillows upon its silver back sunk perfectly to the contours of his body, he saw that the bowl was filled with rice porridge, a breakfast food he had eaten much of throughout his life. However, this bowl was swimming with meat, beans, vegetables, and spices, altogether nothing he would have ever dreamed of while living in poverty. Secretly, he gave thanks for how committed Hua Cheng was to treating him like a prince. Some pleasures simply could not be matched.

Hua Cheng eyed Xie Lian’s comfortable posture up and down, raised one eyebrow, then sank onto the arm of the throne. He balanced there perfectly, the image of servile grace as he spread napkins over Xie Lian’s lap and chest, and a less godly corner of Xie Lian’s mind fixated briefly on the evident strength of Hua Cheng’s core muscles beneath his ruby robes.

In his distraction, he failed to notice a spoonful of porridge in Hua Cheng’s hands, until it was right before his face.

“Your Royal Highness,” Hua Cheng purred, “let this servant feed you.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian chided, “you’re already my husband. You don’t have to be my servant, too.” He looked up to Hua Cheng, who was pouting, and sighed. “I will let my beloved feed me,” he said, and opened his mouth. “Aaah~”

Miraculously, despite how the bowl steamed before him, the porridge was the perfect temperature. It warmed his mouth as he lapped it off the spoon, and he could feel its heat sinking all the way down his gullet and into his belly, never once scalding him.

“Mmm!” He placed a hand on his tummy, and could already feel how warm it was inside. “This is perfect!”

“I’m so glad,” Hua Cheng said, and fed him another spoonful.

Quickly for the serene vigor of the morning, Xie Lian sunk into a comfortable, trancelike state, breaking his eyes from the undulating dancers on the distant stage only occasionally to reach for his teacup or shoot a grateful smile up at Hua Cheng. As the soothing weight of rice began to settle in is stomach, he ruminated that this porridge alone would be an excellent preparation for a big workout—the carbs would fuel his initial stamina, the vegetable pieces would replenish his vitamins and ensure quick metabolism, and the protein would keep him going until the time came to eat a much heartier meal that would truly nourish his burning muscles. As the sound of porcelain on porcelain signalled the end of the dish, however, he reminded himself that today was a day for a very different type of training.

He thumped his chest with one fist, let out a deep burp into the other, and felt his stomach shifting around, making ready for much, much more.

Hua Cheng gave an adoring little whimper, and stroked Xie Lian’s arm. “How does Your Highness’s belly feel?” he asked.

Xie Lian took a moment to appraise him. His legs were crossed; he looked so submissive in spite of his huge stature. “Perhaps you would make a good servant,” he blurted out.

Hua Cheng blinked.

“And my belly feels wonderful,” he replied, giving it a little squeeze. His stomach gurgled in response, turning over the porridge inside. “I am quite ready to continue this training session.”

“As Your Highness wishes,” Hua Cheng said at once, and snapped the dish nearest to him up into his hands, a little plate of pan-fried bok choy. “Here,” he said, and in a flash of chopsticks, offered him a bite. “Please eat, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, dear,” he said, and opened his mouth to accept it.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he replied warmly.

Hua Cheng called him Your Highness often, but this seemed gratuitous. It was clear to Xie Lian that he loved feeding him, loved lounging by his side and doing all within his power to help his belly grow. As Xie Lian chewed, he smiled. Hua Cheng was so easy to indulge, it made his heart sing.

In what seemed like no time at all, the vegetables had vanished into him, and his belly barely felt any tighter, much less visibly round at his waist.

“San Lang,” he whispered, “have you got anything… a little heavier? …Fluffier, perhaps?”

Giving a little purr, Hua Cheng squished his belly with his fingertips. “Anything your heart desires, I can have ready for you,” he said softly. “Would you like something… with a little more starch?” He gave a loving prod. “Something that’ll fill you all the way up? Or something a little richer? Oilier?” His fingers wriggled under Xie Lian’s belt, utterly shameless in front of the multitude of serving demons still scuttling around and sneaking glances at the couple. “Something,” he said, voice low and smooth in his ear, “that will slip and slide inside Gege’s tummy, sending effervescent little bubbles of gas up to his lips, going around, telling all the other foods inside him to join together, and make him big and round?”

Xie Lian giggled. Hua Cheng’s fingers on his stomach were making the food inside shift and glorp, and every word coming out of his mouth sounded appealing, silly though they all were. He pressed one impeccably polite little burp into his finger, then smiled. “I’ll let you decide, San Lang.” An idea struck him, and he closed his eyes, shutting out the vision of the glittering room and endless sea of food. “Here,” he said, “I’ll let you surprise me.”

A pleased hum came from Hua Cheng’s direction. “As you wish,” he said. “But only… if Gege promises not to fall back asleep.”

“Oh, believe me, I couldn’t!” Xie Lian replied. “I’m fully in training mode right now, as comfortable as this training may be.” He paused. “I’ll eat everything you give me, San Lang; you have my word.” Xie Lian did not give promises lightly, but he trusted Hua Cheng. He opened his mouth, and waited.

A delicious smell hit him before the first bite of food landed on his tongue. Rich and savory, something smooth and soft entered his mouth, opening easily between his teeth to release tender chunks of meat, egg, boiled vegetables, and cellophane noodles. It was a boiled crystal dumpling, salty, and, as Hua Cheng had promised, oily.

“Mmm!” he said as he chewed and swallowed. “Excellent choice, San Lang!”

“I am so happy to hear Gege say that,” Hua Cheng replied. “There are many more here, all for my Gege.”

“Yay!”

Over the gentle music, he could still hear himself chew and swallow, as Hua Cheng fed him dumpling after dumpling, what could no doubt be multiple steamers full of them. He was grateful for the relative quiet; with his eyes closed, he could immerse himself fully in eating, in feeling his insides grow gradually more full.

After what seemed to Xie Lian an unnaturally long time spent eating dumplings, he stopped, and held up a finger. “San Lang,” he said, eyes still closed, “could you please give my back a pat?” He leaned forward for him, and placed a hand on his mouth. His belly felt overly full, stuffed with oily dumpling skin and noodles.

Somehow, Hua Cheng knew the perfect amount of force to dislodge a hefty belch from Xie Lian. At the strike to Xie Lian’s back, it pushed its way up his throat, inhumanly loud, seizing his whole body with its greasy, thick vibrations.

His stomach, liberated from the pressure of the gas, felt so good. He should be embarrassed of the sound; there were others around, after all, but all he could feel was relief. “Haah,” he sighed, placing one hand on his belly. “Excuse me.”

“I would never excuse Your Highness, because Your Highness can do no wrong,” Hua Cheng replied in a singsong voice.

As he groped his belly, Xie Lian realized that he still felt constricted, the room freed up by burping notwithstanding. “San Lang,” he said, “I’m going to open my eyes, and try to adjust my clothes.”

The moment he opened his eyes, however, he was distracted by what he saw. The table looked much different than it had before he had begun to feed on the dumplings; several of the dishes were empty or missing, and a few he recognized from the other tables had been shoved in their places. Only when he saw a dish that he knew had previously contained a whole roast quail did the realization dawn on him.

“San Lang,” he said to Hua Cheng, “did you use your powers to transform the other dishes into these dumplings, just because I said I liked them?”

Hua Cheng’s face split into a mischievous grin, tensing up like a child who had been caught stealing candy, until his whole bearing buckled, and he leaned in to press Xie Lian’s head with a kiss. “Gege has found this San Lang out,” he whispered. “This San Lang will accept any punishment that—”

“No, no, no,” said Xie Lian, gently swatting his arm. “San Lang was just being considerate.” He smiled. “This Gege is beginning to fill up, though. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a moment to adjust my belt.”

“Of course, Gege.”

Even with Hua Cheng by his side, Xie Lian still felt awkward untying his belt in front of strangers. Luckily, only Hua Cheng was looking right at him; only he paid close attention as his fingers worked the cloth. At the moment his belly sprang free of the restricting material, however, thoughts of all else blinked out of Xie Lian’s mind.

Moments prior, he had tried to shift his belt lower, until he realized he had shifted it as far as it could comfortably go, and still felt tight. His stomach was pushing out on his robe; more of his chest had begun to show in a smooth, flesh-colored triangle beneath the white, and almost by instinct, his fingers fiddled with the belt now hugging his hips, keeping the robe that contained his belly in place, until it was undone, and the round dome of his gut practically popped out before him.

“Aaaah…” The sigh was flowing from Xie Lian’s lungs involuntarily; he felt so much better. His throat shifted, and the noise deepened into a long, delicious burp, ten thousand times as rude as his previous one, but right now, he could not bring himself to care.

As he panted softly for air, he looked down at his exposed belly. It was so round already, bigger than it had been last night, fully hiding the waistband of his pants, crowned with the shadow of his navel.

“Please pardon me,” he said softly to Hua Cheng. “I will admit, though, that this feels much better.”

“Your Highness,” said Hua Cheng, voice no more than a breath.

“Hm? What is it?” He gave his belly a pat, loving the way the food-filled flesh bounced under his touch, and the feeling of digestion already taking place inside him. He smiled at Hua Cheng. “Is there something you want, my love?”

“Only what Your Highness has to offer,” Hua Cheng said solemnly.

He chuckled. “Well,” he said, “I can offer you a touch, before we move on to more food.” He took Hua Cheng’s hand. “I hope you understand that I am far from finished.”

“Yes, this servant understands,” said Hua Cheng, and, with Xie Lian’s hand as his guide, gently touched his belly.

His hand was cool, but immediately warmed up again, as if to correct himself. Xie Lian let go, and Hua Cheng began to gently caress, gaining a feel for its full expanse.

“If you like,” said Xie Lian, “you may keep rubbing while I eat some by myself.” He gave his arm a reassuring pat. “That way,” he said, “you can quite literally feel my belly fill up. How does that sound?”

“...Is Your Highness sure—”

“Oh, San Lang!” Xie Lian burst out, “of course I’m sure! You’re welcome to all of me, my dear.”

Hua Cheng blushed.

“Besides,” Xie Lian continued, “your hand feels sooo wonderful on my tummy. If you don’t mind, though, I'm going to keep training myself. That roast duck looks just too yummy!”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Hua Cheng replied.

For the first time, then, Xie Lian picked up his own chopsticks, and ate.

The food was fantastic, and even those dishes that had been out the longest were still hot, thanks no doubt to Hua Cheng’s mystical care. He ate as princes ate, with no thought of scarcity, allowing himself to banish every trace of hunger from his body. Best of all, Hua Cheng did not stop rubbing him for a single second as he fed, gentle hand seeming to always find the place on his belly most in need of care. With all tension in his digestive organs prematurely eased by Hua Cheng, each bite Xie Lian swallowed settled magnificently down, and little burbling sounds chimed from within his stomach now and then, letting the world know that digestion was at work.

Belly free to the open air and Hua Cheng’s sublime caress, Xie Lian felt awash in comfort as he ate. Thus, the feeling of overfullness crept stealthily up on him, and before he himself realized he was doing it, he had set his chopsticks down, and was thumping his chest, seeking any release of pressure from his insides.

He let out a short, sickly burp, his stomach giving an accompanying whine, and Hua Cheng paused, looking at him with concern. “Gege,” he said, using his free hand to give him a few pats on the back. “What’s wrong?”

Xie Lian gave a shallow sigh, and looked up at him. “This belly is getting a little bit full, that’s all.”

“Oh, no,” said Hua Cheng. “But Gege has so much more food left to eat.”

The music hand stopped; the dancers were likely taking a break. Both of them looked out at the table. Though all of the food had now been consolidated onto the one table before them, several hearty dishes still remained. 

“That is my concern, too,” said Xie Lian. “I want to train to my fullest capability, and I would prefer no food to go to waste.” He sighed once more, and gave his tummy a tender pat. “Say, San Lang,” he said, “would it be too much trouble for you to feed me the rest of the food yourself? That way, I can think only about chewing, swallowing, and digesting it.” He shot a sheepish look up at Hua Cheng’s adoring face. “I do promise that sometime soon, I’ll be able to consume a whole feast’s worth of food in one go. Unfortunately, though, I think I still have some training left to do before I reach that point.”

“My love,” Hua Cheng said, using his thumb to wipe a fleck of food off his cheek, “I do not mind at all. Here, why don’t you lay back for me?”

Xie Lian obeyed, letting his body go slack into the cushions of the chair, and his belly at once thanked him for the pressure relieved when he relaxed his abdominal muscles. Just like before, he closed his eyes, and let his mouth fall open wide, willing, a ready receptacle for food that could only bloat him bigger, stuff him tighter.

Feeding him, Hua Cheng was achingly caring. Once or twice, he even moved his jaw, helping him chew around a chunk of meat or glob of rice that would be unwise to swallow without properly chewing first. He rubbed his belly, too, soothing all his tenderest spots.

The food was good, but Xie Lian quickly lost his palate. Hua Cheng’s tender touch atop his belly soon devolved, to Xie Lian’s senses, to just another source of pressure on his overtaxed guts. He belched whenever he could, no longer bothering to excuse himself, and willed his digestive tract to take from his stomach, shift the food’s weight lower, in spite of how dearly he did want to stretch his stomach.

Eventually, he clamped his mouth shut. The mass of food within him was enough to make him nauseous; every burp came up wet; the very skin of his belly felt stretched taut. “San Lang,” he slurred from between ajar lips, “I think… that’s enough…”

“Please, Gege,” Hua Cheng said, voice coming soft through the still air. “Just eat a little bit more.”

Xie Lian licked a crumb off the corner of his mouth, then let it sit there on his tongue. “Heh… San Lang, do you want me to burst?”

“Gege,” Hua Cheng urged, “there are only a few bites left.” Then, quieter, “I know in my heart that you can do it. You are the mightiest man I have ever known.”

At this, Xie Lian could only let out a thin, quavering breath. 

“Alright,” he said. “for you, San Lang… I’ll eat…”

“Thank you,” Hua Cheng said. “Dear, wonderful Xie Lian… Open your mouth, and bite down, my beloved.”

Xie Lian’s jaw opened as far as it could. He fought back the urge to vomit, not by retching, but merely by allowing the reflux of overeaten food to flow from him. The urge passed, and something soft touched his lips.

A bun, he realized. Silly San Lang. He was so bloated as he was, there was no room in his belly for carbs. 

He bit down anyway.

Something sweet, delightfully refreshing, hit his tongue. Read bean, he realized, and he tore a bite off and slowly chewed. In spite of his fullness, it was delicious.

He swallowed.

“Good,” Hua Cheng said. “Ready for another bite?”

“Mm-hm…”

Xie Lian took another bite, chewed and swallowed, then took another, ate, ate, until there was nothing left but the tips of Hua Cheng’s long fingers.

“That was pretty good,” he confessed.

“I’m blessed to hear you say that.”

Xie Lian tried to shift in his seat, lean toward Hua Cheng, but pain lanced through his belly. “I think,” he said, “I need to lie very still for a while.” He cracked one eye open to look at Hua Cheng. “Will San Lang keep me safe while I rest?”

“It would be my sacred duty,” Hua Cheng replied, and kissed the back of Xie Lian’s hand.

Pinned to his chair by his own mass, Xie Lian relaxed as best he could. It felt good to be so still; this was a much needed rest after he had crammed himself to the brim with food.

Through the quiet, he could hear footsteps once more bustling around his table, and the sound of porcelain softly clinking, as well as the burbling of his own belly. The Ghost City demons who served Hua Cheng were usually much more boisterous than this; they must have special orders from their lord to maintain Xie Lian’s peace and quiet. Silently, he thanked Hua Cheng, and slipped into a food-dazed torpor.

He was not sure how much time had passed when he felt the touch of something cool atop his middle. With a start, he realized he had never checked to see how big he had grown by the end of the feast, and he snapped his eyes open.

The vast, dish-filled table was nowhere to be seen, and in its place knelt Hua Cheng, eye twinkling up at Xie Lian, his tape measure in his hands.

“Gege!” he said brightly. “You are awake! I hope you do not mind my taking the liberty to measure your growth now. I wanted to check before you’ve had too much time to digest, while your tummy is still at its peak.”

“Not at all!” Xie Lian replied, and the broader tones of his voice were still cut off by the pressure on his lungs. “To be honest,” he said, “I had forgotten about it myself. Please, San Lang, measure away.”

As Hua Cheng snaked the tape measure around Xie Lian’s back, Xie Lian finally took a moment to admire the size of his own belly.

Hua Cheng had stuffed him well. He looked absolutely enormous; occasionally Hua Cheng’s head dipped entirely beneath the mass of it all. He had never been this engorged before in his life, and he felt it, too. Barely mobile atop his shining chair, unable to even think of swallowing another bite, he felt like a stuffed pig on a silver platter.

But nobody would take a bite out of Xie Lian, of that both he and Hua Cheng would make sure. In fact, quite the contrary would take place soon—Xie Lian almost felt as if he had eaten an entire human figure.

Hua Cheng’s fingers shifted and slid, inching all around Xie Lian’s middle as he adjusted the tape measure. Surely, this had to be enough. He could train in perpetuity, but at some point he must be able to stretch enough to fit his dear little worshipper.

The white tape ran over the tan skin of his bloated abdomen like a bridge of divine light, pleasantly cool to the touch, bearing the weight of his fate.

Finally, Hua Cheng looked up at him, smiling gently. “Your Highness’s belly is seventy-three cun in circumference,” he said.

Xie Lian let out a breath. “Whew! Seventy-three!” A moment later, he glanced down at Hua Cheng, and raised an eyebrow. “Do you think, San Lang… that seventy-three cun is big enough for my purposes?”

Hua Cheng paused. “In truth, Your Highness,” he said softly, “that might be the absolute minimum needed. You could… perhaps digest a little old man at this size.”

Xie Lian thought back to his worshipper. They were not tall, but nonetheless burly from working the fields. “...Ah.”

Hua Cheng shook his head, and ran a soothing hand over Xie Lian’s belly, below the line of the tape measure. “You’ve done so well this morning, though, my love. All this means is that you have a little training left to do. Nobody else could improve this fast. Nobody.”

“You’re right,” Xie Lian replied softly. “There’s nothing wrong with putting in more work to improve. Of course not.” He gave a little hiccup, belly hitching. “For now, however… I unfortunately must rest some more.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” replied Hua Cheng. “I will be here for you. If you’d like assistance with anything at all, I am at your command. You need only call.”

“Thank you, San Lang.” He gave his head a pat, and his fingers skidded gracelessly away, falling down upon the expanse of his giant gut.

A few hours later, Xie Lian felt well enough to rise, and, belly still bloated as ever, he trundled back to his bedroom, where bright sunlight now streamed through the curtains. Unsteady from the weight of his massive meal, he fell upon his bed, and was immediately grateful for the softness of the blankets, the pillow cradling his head. Although he had tasks to do that day, he knew how important rest was as a part of training. He fell willingly into the temptation of a midday nap, letting the heaviness of his gut keep him securely in place, and the lingering trails of food-coma drowsiness wash over him.

Having devoted his life to caring for all creatures, and spent much of it eating sparingly and sharing his meager findings with others, Xie Lian was not very familiar with the feeling of being a predator, of glutting oneself with the fruits of one’s conquest, then basking in utter satisfaction, secure in the place as master of one’s meals, with the whole world as platter.

The last thing he felt before sinking into sleep was a tingling excitement to swallow his willing prey.

By late afternoon, he was possibly energized again, and, though still bloated, felt euphoric inside. All thoughts of hedonistic indulgence were gone from his mind; he had duties to complete, which he could not ignore. Rising to his feet, he managed to fit his robe around his middle, and tie it with his belt. More of his chest than he was entirely comfortable exposing in full dress peeked through, as well as much of his belly; there was no denying to an outside eye just how much he had eaten that day.

Nevertheless, he was a god, and a god must serve his followers.

As usual after waking up, he performed a few stretches, trying valiantly to keep his clothes modest, but ended up needing to tie them down again after his belly sprang out from them in its entirety, bouncing out free and round.

Finally ready, then, he set out the door, and through the massive hall which Hua Cheng had constructed.

That afternoon, Xie Lian planned to check up on a few of his shrines, answer prayers, and, if he felt at all more mobile by evening, spend some time training his body in the more conventional sense. His plans were interrupted, however, by an all-too-familiar sound outside the vast hall’s main doors.

“I told you, he’ll skin us alive, and bejewel our hides to use as doormats! It would be insane to just—”

“What’s insane is standing here until the sun blinks out of the fucking sky. I say we—”

“Of course General Nan Yang wants to slam through the first unguarded doors he sees, regardless of—”

“Say that one more FUCKING TIME, Mu Qing!”

Xie Lian had wanted to be quiet, wanted merely to peep out at the commotion, but as he cracked open the doors, their hinges gave a brash creak.

Silence fell on both sides. Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing faced the door, eyes wide as saucers, but when Xie Lian’s face came into view, both of them relaxed in comical unison.

“Thank fuck,” Feng Xin said under his breath.

Stepping out into the afternoon daylight, Xie Lian clucked his tongue. “I could hear you from indoors,” he said. “The two of you were not discussing anyone I know, correct?”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing looked at each other.

Xie Lian shook his head. “You two must not have been standing out here for long, afraid to come in for fear of Hua Cheng. Certainly not, because neither of you has reason to fear him; my San Lang would never—” He stopped himself. However he thought to finish that sentence, he could only concede that Hua Cheng would. He shook his head again. “It’s no matter,” he said. “As always, it is lovely to see you two.” 

He opened the door wider, and gestured inside. “Please, come in; don’t worry, it’s entirely safe here. Have either of you eaten yet? There is no doubt tea somewhere, if you’re thirsty, and I’d be happy to prepare some myself, but as for food, I’m afraid I—HIC!” Interrupting himself with a hefty hiccup, he laid a hand on his tummy, and looked sheepishly over his shoulder at the two former deputies now following him in. “I’m not entirely sure I can cook right now,” he said apologetically. “I would need to track down San Lang.”

“I… wouldn’t take you up on either of those options if I was about to die of starvation,” Mu Qing said flatly.

“Sorry,” Feng Xin muttered.

“No worries,” Xie Lian replied, affectedly pleasant. “Here, take a seat—” Reaching around his own inhumanly stuffed middle, he drew two chairs out from a central, yet unused table, before flopping down into a chair of his own. “Pardon my sluggishness,” he said, giving his tummy an apologetic pat. “I trained again today.”

“I can tell,” replied Feng Xin. His eyes were roving freely over Xie Lian’s body, as if he were unable to tear them away.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Mu Qing said gruffly. “Um, Your Royal Highness, we…” He trailed off, then hissed at Feng Xin, “You explain it.”

Feng Xin startled, then assumed a cordial expression toward Xie Lian, before clamping his mouth shut once more, and taking a moment to study him further.

“Take your time,” Xie Lian said sweetly.

Feng Xin shook his head hard, like a dog shaking off water, and crossed his legs beneath the table. “General Xuan Zhen and I,” he began, “have agreed on something.”

“I’m proud of you,” Xie Lian chirped, folding his hands atop his belly.

“Yeah, it’s about you,” Feng Xin continued. “We both support your training, and support you, and since all three of us are now important heavenly officials, well—”

Feng Xin looked pained. Mu Qing looked worse; he was not even looking at either of them. Talk of women could make Feng Xin act this way, and talk of wealth could thusly fluster Mu Qing, so whatever they were dancing around either had to do with both those topics, or one scruple the two of them shared—their pride.

Xie Lian smiled. “People remember that the two of you used to be my deputies,” he supplied. “So, you want them to know just what a happy, prosperous family we made, and how well all three of us are doing now.”

Feng Xin seemed to melt. “YES!”

“So you can’t go around dressed like that,” Mu Qing burst out immediately. “Like, seriously, your belly looks like it’s about to to explode out of that old outfit. You’re Prince Xian Le; it’s in your damn name; you have no reason to pretend you can’t do better than—” He gestured at Xie Lian.

Xie Lian blinked.

“This is just a travesty of what you’ve actually had to do to get to this point in your godhood. Come on.”

Running a hand down a hem of his robe, Xie Lian smiled. “I’m not entirely sure what you want from me, Mu Qing, but I am always happy to listen to your frustrations.”

“I’m not—” began Mu Qing, but Feng Xin interrupted him.

“I believe what he means to say,” he said, “is that both of us want better for you. He’s just terrible at expressing that.”

Mu Qing did not reply, only huffed.

“And,” Feng Xin continued, “we both agree that you deserve better. Which is why—” He stopped, and raised an eyebrow at Mu Qing.

“We thought we’d bestow an offering upon you,” he sneered.

“Well, thank you,” Xie Lian replied. “I will gladly accept any offering. May I ask what it is?”

Mu Qing snorted. “You idiot,” he said, “it’s clothes. General Nan Yang and I commissioned a robe which can be let out to a total girth of two hundred cun, or drawn in to a smaller size. It should be able to accommodate even your most intense stomach capacity training, Your Highness.”

He pulled a white bundle of shimmering silk out from a bag at his shoulder, and handed it with stiff decorum to Xie Lian, as if he were still a prince’s deputy in the High Court of the heavens.

“Please,” he said, voice somber, “we would be much obliged if you tried it on at your earliest convenience.”

“What he said,” added Feng Xin.

Xie Lian blinked, then accepted the parcel. It was soft in his hands, and much lighter than he would have expected. The silk was a pure and glossy white, and from within the folds, he glimpsed shimmers of gold trim.

“Okay,” Xie Lian said after a moment of admiration. “Thank you; this is very kind of you. How about if I try it on now?”

It was Feng Xin’s and Mu Qing’s turn to stare silently.

To the awkward silence, Xie Lian raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t stop you, I guess,” said Feng Xin.

“Lovely!” Xie Lian cheered.

Rising to his feet was not as easy a task as it usually was for Xie Lian’s spry and strapping body. Even as his belly happily digested its charge, it still took up space and weight upon his lap, and hence mobility. Gripping the table, he rose to his full height, and the girth of his middle loomed before Feng Xin and Mu Qing, who stayed seated.

Watching Xie Lian slip his outer robe off to reveal the bare expanse of his globelike gut, Feng Xin furrowed his brow and pressed a finger to his mouth, and Mu Qing faintly blushed.

“I know, I know,” Xie Lian said amiably, draping his old clothes over the back of a nearby chair. “Shameless old Xian Le, back at it again.”

“Just keep your pants on,” snapped Mu Qing. “We didn’t get you any new ones of those. Sorry.”

“I promise,” Xie Lian said.

Setting the silken bundle on a tabletop, he had to crane over himself to unwrap it. Nevertheless, he did so meticulously, glad for his clean hands so as not to stain the fine white cloth. After unfolding the garment, he shook it out before himself, watching its expansive folds billow through the air. He had never thought much of fancy clothes back when he wore them regularly, but something about this one warmed his heart.

It was absolutely massive, the size of a small room—though, as he draped it gracefully over his shoulders, he was surprised at how much of it was needed to cover him up.

The fabric fell light and soft atop his arms, and the fine gold patterns embroidered on the collar shimmered down his chest. After he had pulled the silk around his entire self, he felt blanketed in coolness, his belly enveloped in its gentle caress. He would feel like a king, draped in majesty and worship, if he could figure out how properly to wear it.

As Mu Qing had promised, there was much extra fabric around his chest and belly, falling atop him in big, rippling folds. Somewhere lower, more gold embroidery was stitched into some sort of pattern, and something that might have been the ends of a belt hung down at his sides. He frowned.

“Here,” Feng Xin said, rising to his feet, “if I may—”

Feng Xin approached Xie Lian, stepping before him to take the robe’s lapels into his hands, and carefully folded them into an attractively crisp pattern.

“Thanks for that,” Mu Qing said, crossing his arms.

Xie Lian smiled. “How wonderfully clever.”

“Yeah,” replied, Feng Xin. “We figured you’d need something that could continue to fit you, even as you… as your training sees better and better results.”

“How thoughtful!”

Feng Xin’s callused fingertips were careful as he smoothed the folds over Xie Lian’s still-sensitive belly. “And you tie it like this,” he said, and knelt to reach a spot below his belly’s mass. “Hopefully,” he said from beneath, “it won’t ever be uncomfortably tight.”

“You two have put a lot of care into this, haven't you?”

As Feng Xin emerged from tying his clothes, Xie Lian struck a feminine little pose, reminiscent of his days as a street performer, in spite of how different he looked here and now. As he attempted a twirl, his stomach sloshed, and he almost lost his balance, but steadied himself on the back of a chair. “Hehe, sorry.”

“Well,” said Mu Qing, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Likewise,” said Feng Xin. “I hope this will benefit your training.”

It sounded as if the pair of them were far more interested in Xie Lian’s unique training regimen than they let on. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’ve already had my big session for today. While the pair of you are welcome to come by for supper tonight, I’m afraid it will only be an average-sized meal.” He gave his tummy a pat. “You know what I always say about rest as a part of training.”

Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing rolled their eyes. “Yes,” they said in unison.

Xie Lian brightened. “But,” he said, “I do have some errands planned for this afternoon, upon which I would be tickled if you decided to join me.”

Feng Xin snorted.

“Errands?” Mu Qing said. “Your Highness, please. We’re not your servants anymore, remember?”

Xie Lian grinned. “Very well,” he said. “If your pride outweighs any desire to relive old times, I shan’t spite you for it.” He cocked his head apologetically. “I do have to go, though. I am so happy to see you two here, but my tasks for the day are waiting for me.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Feng Xin, forcibly averting his gaze from the bloated Xie Lian now clad in gold-trimmed silk. “This is all we really came here to do.”

“Yeah,” said Mu Qing, “we’re done. Both of us are our own gods, and have better things to do than sit here and ogle our old Crown Prince.”

This made Xie Lian smile. “Very well,” he said. “I’m off to check up on a few of my new shrines, then. Thank you again for these wonderful clothes.”

Turning with nothing more than a little nod, Xie Lian left his old clothes behind, knowing that Hua Cheng would find them later, and put them away with the utmost care. After picking his hat up from where it hung by the doorway, he stepped out into the fresh air.

The day outside was divinely temperate. Cool breezes blowing through the sunlit air just barely penetrated his feather-soft new robe. As a powerful god, it needed not take him more than a few moments to reach any location, but he moved slowly both to be gentle on his belly, and to enjoy the weather.

Along the way, he passed several small houses and settlements. At first, they were populated mostly by employees of Hua Cheng who had come from Ghost City to look after Xie Lian and their lord. These motley creatures, when they caught sight of Xie Lian, gazed reverently upon him, and a few even dared to wave. Xie Lian, of course, waved back cordially to every one of them, now and then stopping to make conversation. He spoke about his unusually bloated shape with forthright honesty, thanking those he recognized from the morning’s feast, and happily regaling others with the reason for his belly’s size. Every one in Hua Cheng’s employ was a friend, of this Xie Lian was firmly convicted.

As he traversed the land, however, human villages began to crop up, accompanied by the usual handfuls of people spending time outside their houses. Many of them stared as he passed by.

Xie Lian offered waves and greetings to all, in the way of the sometime fallen prince that he was. Even around those who froze in shock and made hushed whispers with their fellows, he made no effort to hide his belly, sometimes even cradling it as if he were a mother expecting a baby, and not but a very gorged martial god.

Amidst the lively people, gentle breezes, and happily digesting tummy, Xie Lian was forced to admit that he felt good.

At last, he came upon a shrine. It was one he was very fond of, small and rickety, though made up all of fresh-cut wood, defiant in its optimism, much like Xie Lian himself, and his own Puji Shrine.

Inside, a young maiden was busily sweeping what little dust and dirt she could find on the floor, all of it gathering into a central pile at the behest of her broom.

“Good afternoon!” Xie Lian called out to her.

The maiden turned, and went stock-still. She was more slight than the farmer who had come to Xie Lian with the request to be eaten. The look in her eyes, of pure wonder upon seeing her god in the flesh for the very first time, was nevertheless a perfect match for the other’s. He was reminded, fondly, of how Hua Cheng looked when he was a child—all his followers seemed to share some spark of mystical devotion, and for that Xie Lian felt divinely grateful.

“I cannot thank you enough for your upkeep of this place,” Xie Lian said, giving a little wave. “Everything you do is a help.”

A blush was quickly rising to her face. “Your Royal Highness Xie Lian,” she said faintly.

“A pleasure,” Xie Lian replied. “And might I have your name?”

The maiden’s broom was quivering in her hands. “Oh, Your Highness,” she said instead of answering him, “you look so majestic.” She steadied the broom, then picked it up, pressed it to her body, and bowed low to him.

“Well, thank you.”

Her voice came up in a squeak. “Would it… be… impertinent of me to ask…”

“Please,” Xie Lian said, “keep your chin up, miss. And whether it would be impertinent to ask, I cannot know without first hearing the question, now, can I?”

Slowly, she rose, and held the broomstick close to her, as if she wanted to hide behind it. “Have you,” she said, “...recently consumed a worshipper?”

Xie Lian looked at her scarlet face, then down at his belly, and laughed out loud.

She flinched. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no,” Xie Lian said. “In fact, I’m pleased that this was your impression of me.” Leaning on the wooden wall, he gave the maiden a rakish wink he never would have dared when he was still actually single. “While I will keep my general feeding habits a secret for now,” he said, “I will answer your question with honesty. Inside my belly right now, there is only food. No people, much less any living ones.”

“...Oh.”

From far away, some shouts came across the breeze, of farmers calling to each other over a field, and birdsong came in distant twitters, a cheerful prelude to the coming sunset. Within this shrine, however, all was silent, save for the gentle creaking of the wooden wall supporting Xie Lian’s weight.

“I promise, though,” he said, “that never would I eat you without your asking me first.”

The young woman did not reply.

“I am closed for inquiries right now, though,” he said, and drummed his fingers playfully atop his belly. “As you can see, I am already very full.”

#moray writes #stuffing

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

thinking about fat nat, had an idea.

after vormir, natasha needed a break. "just a month off and then i'll be back to avenging again," she told herself. truth is, she wasn't sure that would be enough, wasn't sure any amount of time would be enough to make the flashbacks of fighting clint and falling off the cliff in vormir fade. yes, steve brought her back. the memories remained, however.

-over the month, she goes to her apartment in new york, away from the tower.

-she tries to fill the void first with workouts but when that makes her think of fighting clint she turns to food for comfort.

-well first she has days of laying in bed in the dark and her elderly neighbor (or maybe steve) stops by with soup and she can feel the love put into it and it makes her want to cry but she also realizes how hungry she is.

-she eats. a lot. she doesn't notice any weight gained. to be honest, she's probably lost weight recovering from vormir and laying in the dark alone and she's started getting back to normal. she's taking a break from the team though they call, she doesn't want to see them. doesn't want to see the expression on their faces every time they look at her. feeling full feels good and makes the memories go away.

-needless to say, she takes more than a month off. two then three months pass. the avengers don't visit. they don't know where she is. she checks in to ease their concerns.

-she usually treats herself to the elevator (even pre vormir) because living on a fifth floor apartment can make the stairs become a slog. she isn't opposed to the stairs though, and when the elevator is out of commission one day, she takes herself to the stairs. going up is difficult. harder than she remembered. she looks down at her body, "what have i done?" she is short on breath, having to take breaks on the way up.

-where there were once abs and smooth muscles are stretch marks and fat rolls. her clothes are tight, her belly straining her shirt, love handles pressing into her sweats, and her breasts spilling out of her bra. she squeezes a roll, ignoring the spark of pleasure it brings and focuses instead on the panic of her changing body. the fear of anyone else seeing her like this. she steps on the scale and is panicked when she sees the weight, overweight.

-the eating feels good but she doesn't want to get fat. she starts a plan to lose weight, contacts the avengers and gives them a date six months out: "i'll be ready." losing weight is harder than gaining though, the pounds falling away slowly and she's hungry all the time, her stomach stretched from her weight gain.

-when she comes back, her body's not the way it was, she has some loose skin and stretch marks and a little bit of leftover flab that she squeezes into her suit, tucked away. she's hungry all the time.

-she falls back into the avengers, this time training new recruits and stepping back from doing as much avenging.

-steve sometimes shoots her concerned glances when she's sitting on the couch, his super hearing let's him hear her stomach growl. he can hear her working out hours past when the recruits have left for the day. she wants to look the way she did before.

-months pass, she's lost the weight. not back to normal but she will never be. she feels empty, lost after vormir.

-steve (or tony) one day challenges her to an eating contest and oh my god it feels so good to eat again. she loses control of herself, eating more than she ever has before, letting out burps and rubbing her stomach to make more room. the avengers team slowly slip away, tony making a comment "wow nat you can really pack it away".

- steve scoots closer to nat, slowly starting to rub her belly as she closes her eyes and lets out more burps, trying to make room.

- steve let's her know that he thinks she is hot like this. he thinks she is beautiful when she is packed full and tight, spilling out of her clothes and unable to stand up, belly hard and red, breathless and sweaty.

- natasha lets go. she liked eating. she loved eating, just felt insecure about changing herself permanently. wants someone to help feed her and take care of her. she is tired of working to lose this skin, tired of being hungry all the time. she liked her body. she's trained the recruits, she doesn't really go on missions anymore.

- she wants to fill her body back out, fill in the loose skin and keep her belly full.

- the weight piles on, faster than before. she is sweaty and panting, breathless with a full belly sticking out in front of her. she stops going to the gym, wants to gain weight quickly.

- she loves growing out of her clothes. she loves seeing herself lose fitness.

- steve is stuffing her, she's full and panting, but just wants to push herself a little further. the weight piles on quick, her stomach already stretched permanently from her prior feedings. she wants to irreparably damage her body. her thighs thicken, she can't walk, her waist widens, she spills over the edge of chairs, she turns sideways to fit through doorways, she stops moving almost anywhere. moving becomes hard as her fat sways, she's sweaty and sticky and wobbly and she loves it. love's not being able to breathe as she tries to walk. she loves the weight. loves her new body.

I love this! This is so perfect, I don't think there's much I can add! It's so beautiful and kinky!!!

I love how much you show the trauma affecting her and how it interacts with her thoughts of what other people will think of her only to be overpowered by Steve wanting to take care of her, wanting her to indulge, wanting her to just be herself - be human and let herself enjoy and grow. 😭🥴🥴

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #stuffing #weight gain #body image issues #weight loss #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #romanogers #chubby natasha

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Another 900 words of pure smut. Commission from a lovely anon!

MTF x Giyu Tomioka (modern au)

Waking up early was not the plan yet here I was starting at the ceiling at 4am. I turn onto my side and stare at my boyfriend. God, even bed head looks good on him. We were already up so late last night but I can already feel myself getting worked up again.

Giyu always looks so peaceful when he's sleeping. I don't even realize I'm reaching for him until my fingers gently caress his face. His eyes flutter slightly before he turns towards me, not quite awake.

"It's early. Go back to sleep." He hugs my waist and traps me in his embrace. I squeak in surprise as my arms are pinned to my sides as he nuzzles into my head. A devilish smirk crosses my lips as my hand is in the perfect spot to grope his crotch. I lick up his neck and I can feel him shudder.

"You're playing dirty…" He mumbles. I can feel his member stiffening in my hand even through his sweatpants.

"Just let me take control than~" I give him a playful squeeze. "You won't have to lift a finger~"

He eyes me suspiciously knowing how much of a brat I can be but still he gives a little hum and nods. "Fine but just this once.” His voice is soft and he loosens his bear hug. I take the opportunity to push him onto his back and straddle his waist.

I can feel his half lidded eyes trail up and down my body. I feel my skin flush as his gaze wanders down to the growing bulge in my lavender lingerie. It's faint but I can see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Mmmm~ someones getting excited~ I thought you were tired" I tease him as I grind against his crotch. He runs his hands up my legs and gives my plush thighs a squeeze.

"Anyone would get excited if their girlfriend woke them up like this." He tried to keep a deadpan expression but I could see his excitement peeking through. His hands roam until he grabs the waistband of my panties. "what happened to the top for this set?"

I let out a short laugh and lean down to his ear. "You ripped it off last night. You owe me a new set~" I lick up his neck and sit back up. "But before we go shopping Im ready for something a little more fun~"

"Be my guest." I slide his pants down and his hard cock springs forward. At the same time he snaps the waistband of my lace panties, freeing my dick as well.

"Hey!" I smack him lightly.

"Whoops… I'm buying you a new set anyway" he said with a faint smirk and shrug.

"You better." I lube his dick and line it up with my eager ass. "Or else you're not getting any action from me until you do." I sink down onto his long cock. The sensation sends a wave of pleasure up my body. "Nnnh~"

I bounce on his dick, my hands on his chest as I support myself. The sounds of my panting and moans fill the early morning air.

Giyu closes his eyes as his head rolls back into the pillow. I can feel his dick twitch inside me. Suddenly he gives me a hungry look as he grabs my waist and pulls me deeper on his cock. He guides my waist forward slightly and hits my prostate. I practically scream in pleasure.

Even when I'm on top he still knows all my sweet spots. My dick starts to leak pre on his abs. I can feel my control slipping as I let him lift me up and down on his cock.

With one final well aimed thrust my back arches as I almost fall backwards. The only thing keeping me up is the firm grip Giyu has on my waist. My toes curl and my legs shake so hard I slip even further down into his cock.

I finally come back to my senses as I come down from my orgasm. I covered his torso in cum but the smirk on his face confuses me. It's almost…devious?

"You done so soon?" I'm taken aback. He's teasing me about something but my head is still fuzzy to figure it out.

Than I feel it. His cock still rock hard in my ass, he hasn't cum yet. The look on my face must have told him I figured it out. He loosens his grip on my sides. "Baby you said I wouldn't have to lift a finger right. Just a little more, can you do that for me?" He asked softly. His sweet voice making me melt. I nod as I start to bounce on his cock again. Slower than last time. My legs still feel like jelly, but now I'm determined. I keep going until I see his face softly contort in pleasure and I feel a warmth fill my ass.

I smile as I finally collapse onto him. "Mmmm~ not a bad morning right~" I kiss his jaw.

He kisses the top of my head. "No, not a bad morning at all….” He bucks his hips up into me and I yelp in surprise. "But now you have me all worked up and I cant go to work like this." I smirk at him.

"Guess I'll just have to keep going than~"

#my writing #kimitsu no yaiba #giyuu x reader #giyuu x mtf #x trans reader #♠️

[writer-rider-flirty-thirties]

I posted 354 times in 2022

That's 354 more posts than 2021!

33 posts created (9%)

321 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@leafweaverryn

@cassarilladraws

@fragileizy

@airi-p4

@talkstoself

I tagged 68 of my posts in 2022

#lukanette - 12 posts

#lukadrinette - 12 posts

#miraculous lb - 11 posts

#lol - 10 posts

#luka couffaine - 9 posts

#i love them - 9 posts

#my ship! - 8 posts

#ot3 - 7 posts

#mlb - 6 posts

#pro lukamari - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 70 characters

#i ship troy and sharpay but sharpay and zeke would've been super cute!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Me trying to write Lukadrien (or any one side of my OT3):

Me: Oh look at them! They're so cute! Just Luka and Adrien... Marinette? You weren't in my plans...  You can make a quick appearance but then... No, Marinette, you gotta go... No, don't blush, Adrien... Don't talk about her melody, Luka!... Yes, you have two hands but you don’t need them both... Wait... Stop holding hands!... Why are they kissing?... Don’t suggest... No... N- Crap, it’s too late: they’re a throuple. Sigh. This is Lukadrien-

The story: 

Me: I guess not.

15 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

#4

The Perfect Opportunity

An excerpt from Day 1: Road Trip for LBSC’s Lukanette Week 2022:

Marinette stopped by her room first, changing into an outfit that featured less flour and sugar and telling the kwamis to behave while she was gone, before saying goodbye to her parents.

“Have a fun time!” Tom smiled as he squeezed her.

“But not too much fun.” Sabine amended, kissing Marinette’s cheeks. “It’ll be better if you finish university before giving us grandchildren.”

A surprised cough exploded from Marinette as she found herself choking at her mom’s words. “Maman!”

Tom's eyes clouded over as he smiled. “I don’t know, Sabine. I can’t wait for the sounds of tiny footsteps to fill our home again.”

Marinette's eyes bugged. “Papa! Stop! Luka and I- We’re not-!”

“Not yet.” Tom agreed, hands clasping over his chest as his eyes got that faraway look again. “But when you do finally get together, I can’t wait to see how cute our grandbabies will be!”

At a loss for words, Marinette decided to just hug her parents one last time and escape the room before they could embarrass her any further… or plant any more ideas in her head.

Not that she needed their help when Luka did a good job of that all by himself.

Especially when he looked at her the way he was the moment she stepped out of the bakery, eyes twinkling and arms crossed over his chest to where it pulled up his shirt to reveal a small strip of beautifully toned abs.

God! Marinette really wanted to lick him!

Unaware of the less than innocent thoughts playing through her mind, Luka smiled at her as he patted the hood of the car. “Ready to go?”

“Ready!” She squeaked before slapping her cheeks- hoping to expel any lingering naughty thoughts- and moving closer.

Piling into the two-seater that Jagged was letting Luka borrow, Marinette vibrated with joy as they set off.

Feel free to follow the link and read the rest! 

15 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

#3

Forever screaming about them.

19 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

#2

Musical Casanova

A snippet from Musical Casanova:

Juleka gave her an amused look. “Everyone? Those flowers are in vases around the boat brightening up the decor.”

Marinette couldn’t hide the stupefied look on her face. “The boat?”

A look of realization hit the mother and daughter pair at the same time and she swore they wore the same amused and secretive smile.

“You thought Luka was buying those flowers for other women?”

Marinette nodded. “I just assumed he was some Casanova.”

Juleka laughed again. “Well, I can guarantee you that my brother doesn’t have a girlfriend or anything else. He's too much of an awkward dork.”

“Mhm. If anything, my boy has been walking around looking at those flowers with the most dopey look on his face. Love sick, I tell you he is.”

Amazing Commissioned Art by @sternschauer-detektiv​.tumblr.com! I love it so much!!!

67 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Musical Casanova (Part 2)

Another short snippet and art! Art commissioned from @sternschauer-detektiv​!!!! It’s so amazing!

Marinette’s brain felt as if it had slowed to a crawl. “So he’s buying my flowers for the boat?”

Juleka shook her head. “He’s been buying flowers, but I don’t think it was for the boat.” Marinette was confused until she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she was met by an embarrassed looking Luka holding a beautiful bouquet…of lily-of-the-valleys.

So that’s where those missing flowers went.

“Oh!” She smiled. “So Sabrina was holding those for you?”

Luka nodded. “I called her yesterday and asked for a favor.”

“They are a very good choice for today.” She hummed. “So are they for the boat too?”

It was hardly possible, but Luka’s face reddened more. Marinette found it absolutely adorable. “No, these are for you.”

Numbly, she accepted the bouquet. “For me?”

Taking a deep breath, he gave her his breathtaking smile that had the butterflies in her stomach doing the tango at double time. “For you.”

As he took her hand and brought it to his lips, Marinette could only think that she had indeed found the perfect man.

Lacing their fingers together, his eyes twinkled as he gave her that same smile that showed off his pearly whites. “So, I’m a Casanova, huh?”

Okay, maybe not.

86 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Tag? What's a tag #I'm Fandom Trash #I'm a shipper #A reblogger #I've had this account for 10 years and just started using it this year #Lukanette #Lukadrinette

[dirtywresling102]

Heels Get The Most Recognition - Chris Jericho (18+)

Chris Jericho x Simon

Commission For: @thesimonkshow

Summary: Simon tries to get Jericho's attention so he can be placed in the Inner Circle. Lucky for Simon, Jericho has a soft spot for rookies.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Yaoi, Smut, Cussing, NSFW.

Word Count: 5,721 

Follow Me On My Main Blog!: @dirtywrestling

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Enjoy!

The chair screeched against the floor as I pulled it out from underneath the table. I placed the plate down a large pile of food stacked upon each other. Sitting down, I licked my lips as I looked over the mountain of food, not knowing what to eat first. Scooping a spoonful of potato salad I stopped as I heard a bunch of girls giggling down the table. 

Placing the spoon in my mouth, I slowly chewed as I watched the women giggle and laugh at whatever was on Britt’s phone. “God if he was my boyfriend I’d break up with him for posting these.” Penelope Ford laughed. 

Britt looked up from her phone, we both made eye contact. Swallowing my food, I looked away down at my plate. “Hey Simon, come here. Check this out.” 

“Oh, no I’m good.” I waved them off, not really caring who they were laughing about. I just wanted to try and finish this large lunch so I could burn it off later at the gym. Hearing the girls whisper and agree upon whatever they were talking about, they all scooted their chairs back making a loud screeching sound as they all made their way towards me. Great. I had few friends in this business. I did my work and left, nothing more, nothing less. I especially didn’t want to make friends with the females since they liked to make fun of people online. Like what they’re doing now. 

“Look what Jericho posted.” Britt brought up the Instagram post and showed me. “I can’t believe he thinks he’s still young.” Britt laughed. 

“Hmm.” I hummed, not agreeing or disagreeing with her. I scooped another spoonful of potato salad in my mouth, my eyes skimmed over the photo. Jericho held the camera with one hand and was flexing with a sweater over his body so the only thing we saw was his abs. His face smoldered with the pose. My eyes widened at the exposed photo, nearly spitting out my food, I swallowed. Coughing as it went down the wrong pipe.

The girls laughed at my reaction, thinking it was a negative response. It wasn’t. Jericho looked so good with those sweatpants hung so low. “Wait, let me see again.” I slightly coughed, hitting my chest as I tried to clear my throat. Britt showed me her phone again as my eyes skimmed over the sexy photo. ‘I wish the sweatpants was gone’ I said in my head. 

“Oh and get this one.” Britt swiped her finger to the next photo. My eyes widened at the sight. My wish was granted. I nearly snatched the phone from her hand to get a better look. Jericho’s free hand was slightly pushing down his pants, showing his v-line and nothing more even though fans and myself wanted to see a little more. He was shirtless, flexing his muscles and abs for the camera. I licked my lips at the sight. Jericho’s long blonde hair flowed over his shoulder. My cock stirred at the sexy poses he did for Instagram. 

This should be illegal for a man this fine to post something so erotic. “Why-” I cleared my throat. “Why did he post this?” I asked, looking up at Britt. 

She pulled back her phone, scrolling through it some more. “He posted it on Instagram for his fiftieth birthday.” 

Jericho aged like fine wine, he looked good for his age and I bet tasted even better. My cock strained against my jeans at the thought of getting a taste of Jericho. I quickly stood up, scaring the women around me from my quick action. “Sorry ladies. But uh.” My brain isn't thinking correctly. “I forgot there's something I need to do…” Walking out of the catering room, leaving the plate full of, I rushed to the nearest restroom. Going to the farthest stall, I pushed open the door and locked it. My cock has never been this hard before. Pulling my phone out I quickly went to Instagram and went to Jericho’s page. Scrolling down a few photos I stopped on his fiftieth birthday post. Tugging my pants down along with my boxers, I wrapped my fist around my cock. Examining the photos while I stroked my cock, I slowly slipped into a daydream.

“Such a good boy, taking my cock so well.” Jericho gave my ass a rough slap while his cock was buried deep. Whimpers left my lips as I was enjoying the pain and pleasure. A tight ring wrapped around my cock prevented me from coming. Jericho’s hand ran through my hair, giving it a rough tug, pulling my head back. 

“Ah!” Hissing from the slight pain Jericho caused.

“Hmm, I have so much more stored for you rookie.” Jericho whispered against my ear.

My climax was close, my eyes fluttered shut as I kept fisting my cock. A stifled moan escaped my lips but was quickly cut off hearing the bathroom door slam open. The loud commotion nearly made me drop my phone. Gripping my phone tightly in my hand so it wouldn’t shatter on the tile floor, my heart raced as I listened to the men that entered. 

“I can’t believe Sammy’s dumb ass did that.” Jericho growled, hands coming down on the porcelain sink, the sound echoing throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, it was pretty stupid of him saying those jokes.” Jake responded.

I swallowed thickly knowing exactly what they were talking about. A few years ago Sammy made a joke about raping WWE wrestler Sasha Banks. Unfortunately for Sammy, that video came back to the surface and of course AEW gave him a punishment on a suspension with no pay for a few months.

“We need a fifth member.” Jericho huffed.

“Really? Sammy is only gone for a few months, I think we’ll be okay without him.” Santana spoke. “I think us four will be fine without him.” 

Jericho slammed his fist down onto the sink, making it creak loudly. I flinched in the stall, nearly slipping. My cock still in my hand, too scared to even move. I didn’t dare make a sound.

“We’re going to look weak with one member missing, is that what you want Santana?” Jericho snarled. “We need someone strong, fast-” 

“And good looking.” Ortiz butted in. The three other men stared at him. “I mean, Sammy was the god looking one, we need someone young and fierce. Just saying.” Ortiz shied away. 

“No, no you’re right. We need a young strong kid to join us.” Jericho agreed. “But who the hell will join us four?” Jericho wasn’t going to say that they were old, he was the oldest out of the group but what damn kid would hang out with them and show off their strength and run AEW Wednesday nights? “We’ll worry about it later, let's go, we have a show to put on.” Jericho huffed and exited out first.

Hearing their feet patter out of the bathroom one by one and the door shut I exhaled slowly. Staying still just in case one of the members was still in here. I quickly started to pull my pants up, shoving my phone in my back pocket. I made my way out of the stall and to the sink. Catching how the sink was slightly crooked from Jericho’s fist colliding with it. 

I quickly washed my hands, looking at myself in the mirror. I knew I had what it takes to be a part of The Inner Circle. Drying off my hands, I threw the towel away in the bin and exited out of the rest room. How in the hell was I supposed to show Jericho and the boys that I was worthy enough to join?

Looking down the hall I saw a group of women. I could show them how much of a ‘ladies man’ I am. I shook my head, I couldn’t see myself messing with women’s emotions if I didn't find them attractive. Plus most of the women backstage I was good friends with. Trying to get into The Inner Circle will also show the men around how manly and tough I was. They wouldn’t dare attack or insult me if I was walking around with The Inner Circle. 

Looking down at the other side of the hallway I saw Joey Janela about to start an interview with Dasha Gonzalez. I smirked, this would be a perfect way to show Jericho and the boys how bad I was. 

“Good evening All Elite Wrestling Fans, I’m here with The Bad Boy Joey Janela who is about to face Jungle Boy later tonight. How are you feeling about this match, Joey?” She pulled the mic away from her lips and held it to Joey. 

“Well, I-”

“Well look who it is.” I stepped into the camera view. Joey and Dasha exchange confused looks to each other. “Fat Boy Jelly Nutella” I laughed, quickly noticing how Joey’s plush face became red with anger. 

“We’re in the middle of an interview here, Simon.” Joey hissed.

“Yeah? Well I caught you in the middle of a donut not so long ago.” I laughed. “How about you take a seat before you lose your breath, alright?” I turned to Dasha. “Dasha, baby.” I gave her a bright smile. “Why are you interviewing losers? When you can have a handsome stud like myself that you could be interviewing?” I gave her a wink. Showing that I can be a bully and yet a cocky gentleman towards the ladies. “I know how young you like them.” I teased, licking my lips. 

“Hey man.” Joey gave me a hard shove from behind. “How about you take your corny comments and leave.” He snarled. 

I straightened up, tilting my head to the side, popping my neck. I turned around to face Joey. “You’re gonna regret that.” I sneered, showing teeth. I raised my fist, clocking him in the jaw. Joey stumbled backwards into some stage crates. I followed after him, striking repeatedly, one blow after another. 

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Simon that’s enough!” Refs and other wrestlers rushed over, pulling me off of Joey. “That’s enough, Simon!” Someone else shouted. 

“Have fun wrestling tonight, Jelly Nutella.” I laughed, letting the people push me away so they could check on Joey. My gaze went across the hall to see Jericho and The Inner Circle. Good they saw everything. It’s just a matter of seconds that they’ll walk over to talk to me about joining the team. 

A small frown appeared on my lips as I watched the four of them walk away in the opposite direction. Huffing out a sigh, I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair. “Simon, what the fuck was that all about?” Joey asked, rubbing his jaw.

“Sorry.” I mumbled. “I’m trying to get tight with The Inner Circle.” 

“Well, next time tell me the plan before punching me.” Joey moved his jaw around. 

The night went on, I waited for Jericho or anyone in the Inner Circle to approach me. No one did. Huffing I knew I wouldn’t stop getting their attention.

A week went by and it was Wednesday All Elite Wrestling once more. I knew I needed to do something crazier than beating up Joey Janela during an interview. I needed to pick the baddest, meanest wrestler on AEW and beat them down, that’ll show Jericho and the boys how strong I really am. 

“Kenny, you know damn well I deserve a shot at that title. That’s my title, you and everybody else knows it.” Moxley snarled into the mic. Standing in the middle of the ring, the crowd cheered as Moxley was getting heated up about Kenny being the asshole champion he was. “So what do you say, Omega? Are you going to come out here and face me like a man or do I have to go back there and hunt you down?” 

Moxley and the crowd waited. I swallowed thickly, knowing this was probably going to get me killed but anything to get Jericho to notice me. My theme song hit, I walked out and onto the ramp. Seeing Moxley’s confusion slowly turn to anger. “Woah, woah, woah. Moxley, you really think you deserve a title shot?” I smirked, my heart was hammering in my chest. Jon Moxley was going to kill me for interrupting his television time. 

“Jon, how about we have a little match? I win. I get to have a title shot with Kenny and a date with your hot wife.” I teased, winking into the camera. “Hi Renee.” I waved. I saw Jon walking towards the ropes, about to hope out and beat me. “Woah, wait big fella. I’ll be in the ring soon. If you win you get to have Kenny for the title, deal?”

I saw Jon’s lip twitch into a devilish smirk. “Deal.” 

I limped out of the trainers room, ice pack in hand. Jon Moxley didn’t take lightly that I joked about his wife or took his spotlight time. Moxley didn’t go easy on me in the ring. Purposely giving me a black eye, bruised ribs and I swore he tore a muscle in my shoulder. Losing to Moxley wasn’t going to have the Inner Circle be interested in me now. 

It was a quick match, lasting no longer than ten minutes. Note to self, don’t piss off Jon Moxley before a match. I grunted as I rested against a crate, sitting on top of the surface I grunted out lowly as my body ached. Resting the ice back over my shoulder I groaned as it stung. “I’ll never get to be in the circle.” I grumbled to myself in defeat. 

Ignoring everyone I didn’t even notice some crew members were starting to set up lights and cameras near me. Looking up, I winced as my neck ached. “What are you guys doing? I want to be alone.” I huffed, annoyed that they were carrying wires and turning on bright lights facing me. I squinted with a low growl as it blinded me. 

“We’re doing a segment right now.” One coworker said, headset wrapped around his neck.

“Can’t you do it somewhere else?” I wasn’t planning on moving.

“Well, we need you Simon for the segment we’re only setting up where you’re staying. Would you like us to follow you to a better place?” The man tilted his head.

I blinked. “Segment? I don’t have a segment.” 

“Oh, Mr. Jericho told us to grab the lights and cameras for your segment with him. He told us to tell you ‘just sit there and look pretty’.” He repeated Jericho’s words. 

I blinked once more, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was I finally joining The Inner Circle? “And we’re live in three… two…” the camera man held up one digit signaling that we’re on the air. 

I swallowed hard, quickly looking away from the camera and down at the floor. “There he is! There’s the strong man that fought Jon Moxley!” Jericho yelled, him and the rest of the crew approaching me. “Or should I say a moron man.” Jericho laughed.

I gulped, my smile slowly turning into a frown. My heart raced, my eyes darted towards the director and back at Jericho. “Well, someone had to show Moxley some sort of punishment.” I cockily said, but of course not accepting that I lost. 

“Ha! See, I told you this kid has it. Even getting his ass kicked he still thinks he’s number one! Kid has spunk!” Jericho complemented. 

I tried to control my reddening cheeks. Never have I gotten a compliment from the goat himself, Chris Jericho. “Well someone has to be number one around here.” I smirked. 

“I like you kid, how about you team up with us, The Inner Circle. What do you say, wanna hang out with the coolest, baddest dudes in AEW?” Jericho asked. His blue eyes looked deep into my eyes. 

“Chris, I would love nothing more than to join you.” 

“You made the right choice kid, I knew I liked you for a reason!” His large hand came down onto my back. I muffled out a small grunt as pain shot up my spine. “Hagar! Give the kid his shirt.” 

Jake pulled an Inner Circle shirt from his pocket and tossed it to me. “You’re one of us kid, better start getting used to being top dog.” With that Jericho and the gang walked away. I couldn’t help but to smile large, looking down at the fabric in my hands. The camera slowly looked away from me and to my Inner Circle shirt. 

“Cut.” The coworker said. “Great job Simon, congrats on being a part of the team.” 

I couldn’t speak, too excited from what just happened. I smiled big and nodded towards him. 

Weeks go by, I couldn’t imagine anything better. Finally being one of the boys in The Inner Circle, I walked tall when I was with the rest of the guys. We’d make a mess backstage, antagonize people and make fun of them during a match. But I knew I was changing while I was with the group. I saw myself become something I wasn’t. A bully. These people here at AEW were my friends, my family. Some wrestlers even went the extra mile to get me a match some Wednesday nights and here I was, treating them like dirt. 

Once the night came to an end, we all made our way back to the hotel. “Hey, we’re going to drink, do you want to come?” Jake asked, mentioning himself, Ortiz and Santana. 

Shaking my head, I politely decline. “No, I’m going to my room and sleep, tonight was pretty long.” 

Jake shrugged and walked to the hotel bar. I held the strap to my bag tightly seeing Jericho walking to the elevator. “Hey, Chris. Wait up!” I rushed to the elevator. Jericho quickly placed his hand between the sliding doors, forcing them open.

“Well, isn’t it my favorite troublemaker in the group?” Jericho teased, a smirk on his lips. 

A light blush appeared on my cheeks as I entered the lift. “Thanks, speaking of the group, I need to talk to you about it.” I gulped.

“Oh yeah? What’s up?” Chris arched his eyebrow, his blue orbs looking into mine. 

“I uh, well.” Having trouble speaking, I stopped when there was a ding, notifying us that we were on our floor. 

Jericho couldn’t help but to laugh at me tripping over my words. “Come on kid, I’ll take you to my room. We’ll talk it out.” Jericho grabbed his luggage and walked out of the lift. Exhaling a breath, I followed suit, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Jericho asked.

My eyes were everywhere in the room. It was the suite room, large bed, balcony to look over the city and the bathroom was twice the size of mine a few floors down. Jericho went to the mini bar designed for his room. A flatscreen television pinned to the wall and besides the dresser was a mini fridge I could only imagine was full of snacks and alcohol. 

Jericho walked back towards me, handing me a cup of alcohol. “Oh no.” I waved my hand, not going to accept it.

“Come on kid, you’re of age aren’t you?”

I nodded my head yes.

“Then drink.” Jericho smiled, pushing the glass more into my grip. Taking the clear crystal glass I examined the brown liquid. It smelled strong, burning my nose but made my mouth water. “Come, sit.” Jericho sat at the foot of his bed. 

Following, I sat down next to him. Bringing the cup to my lips, I took a small sip of the liquor. Coughing slightly as the bitterness went down my throat. Jericho laughed at my reaction. “This’ll put hair on your balls.” He joked, placing the rim of the glass to his lips. He downed the whole drink in one gulp. 

I exhaled. “I wanted to talk about being in The Inner Circle.” 

“Yes! You were the best choice I’ve made, you have a potential kid, really caught my eye.” I could have sworn I saw his eyes sparkle as he spoke. 

“Uh, thanks Chris.” I swallowed, really wanting to get out what I wanted to say. “But I don’t think-”

“You know, don’t tell anyone but I have a soft spot for rookies.” Chris hummed. 

“You- You do?” I questioned.

“Hmm- hmm.” He nodded. You really caught my eye when I saw you try out, I knew I had to have you.” Chris paused for a brief moment, making my heart skip a beat as he darted his tongue out, licking his lips ever so slightly. “In the Inner Circle of course.”

I cleared my throat. “Oh, of course.” I quickly agreed. Was he flirting with me and quickly covering it up?

 “Why do you think I let Sammy join right when he joined AEW, he was a sweet kid trying to find his place in the business and I took him under my wing just like how I’m doing with you.”

“Well, thank you for that.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “How can I ever repay you?” I asked, I knew I needed to give the vet something in return for the kind actions he’s had towards me.

Chris’ blue eyes became darker as he looked at me over. “I can think of a few things.” 

“And what’s the number one thing?” I leaned closer to him, licking my lips. 

“I think I’d like to have those nice plump lips of yours wrapped around my cock.” 

My lips twisted into a smirk. “I think I can do that.” Standing up, I got in between Jericho’s legs and kneel down. I rub his already growing cock through his pants. Pre come already staining his jeans. My mouth watered at the sight, undoing the button. I quickly tugged his pants down as if he was a meal and I haven’t eaten in days.

“Easy, I’m not going anywhere.” Chris laughed, seeing how eager I was to have him in my mouth.

Blushing, I slowed down my pace. Tugging the zipper down and helping him out of his pants along with his boxers. His cock was what I imagined, large, long and ready to pound. I looked up at him as he watched in. He reached at me, running his fingers through my hair. My eyes fluttered shut at the soft touches. I grunted as he gave my locks a tough tug, making my cock twitch at the roughness. 

“No teasing, make me come and I’ll reward you with my cock and much more.” Chris let go of my hair, making me nod. 

I looked over his cock once more, admiring it. He was clean shaved. I wrapped my hand around his member, watching Chris suck in a breath only to exhale slowly as I moved my hand up and down on him. “Hmm, that’s it.” Chris tilted his head back, eyes shut. Leaning down, I gave soft kitten licks to his smooth balls. Swirling my tongue slowly and gently. 

“Fuck, keep going.” Jericho moaned, his hips jerking slightly. My free hand rubbing the inside of Chris’ thigh. Once I paid enough attention to his balls, I stopped jerking his cock. Jericho snapped his head up, watching my every move. 

Grabbing the base of his cock, I slowly inserted the tip of his cock into my mouth, softly suckling it. “Oh god, Simon.” Jericho grunted through his teeth, pushing his hips upwards. 

I smirked, using both my hands to pin his hips down on the bed. “Oh you little shit, you think you can control me.” Jericho growled. Chris gripped my hair, pulling me off of his cock. My lips swollen and red from sucking. 

“Should’ve let me fucked that sweet mouth of yours, now I have to teach you a lesson.” Jericho stood up as I stayed on my knees. “Little rookie thinks he can control me.” Swallowing hard as I heard Jericho mumbled to himself. He went to his duffle bag, I heard him unzip it only to zip it back up. 

A soft yelp escaped my lips as Chris unexpectedly gripped both of my wrists, putting my hands behind my back. Cool metal clasped over both of my wrists, restraining me. I tugged, trying to get out only to realize he placed hand cuffs on me. “W- Wait, I’m sorry. I only wanted to touch you.”

“Oh you little liar. You were trying to take control so I couldn’t fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” Chris growled, being in front of me once more. His hard cock in my face. 

“I’m sorry.” I said once more, wanting to be forgiven. 

Jericho gripped my hair once more. “Open.” 

Biting the inside of my cheek I soon opened my mouth. Nearly gagging as Chris shoved his cock down my throat. Saliva soon collected in my mouth as I grunted. I latched my jaw tight, wrapping my lips around his cock as he thrust faster. “Good boy.” 

My wrists slowly started to hurt as the metal cut deeper into my skin. Drool started to drip out the corner of my mouth, my eyes started to water as I could hardly breathe. Chris tightened his grip on my hair as his thrust became longer and harder. His cock thickened in my mouth, I knew he was about to come soon.

His hand rested on the back of my head, forcing his cock deeper down my throat, I tried to pull away and catch a breath of air. “Ah, ah.” Chris grunted, his cock not moving. He pumped his hips a few times, his come flooding down my throat as my face became red. I jerked at the cuffs, trying to break them so I could push Chris off. 

“Hmm, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He slowly started to pull his cock out. Come and drool collected at my lips as his cock exited out of my mouth. I gasped for air. “Ah.” Chris, clamped my mouth shut. “Swallow it.” 

I didn’t even realize I had so much come in the back of my throat until I swallowed it all, making me finally breathe. He gave me a lazy smirk, watching me become teary eyed. “I’m not finished with you just yet.” Jericho gripped my arm and stood me up. He shoved me to the foot of the bed, bending me over. 

Jericho’s large hand roughly slapped my ass, once, twice and a third time. I whimpered as my skin stung from the pain, slowly turning red. “Can’t wait to be deep inside of you, rookie.” I heard a bottle open and liquid pouring out. Soft sloshing sounds were made from behind me, Jericho stroking his cock with his lubed up hand. 

“You did so well taking my cock in that pretty little mouth, now let's see how you take my thick cock up your ass.” I could hear Jericho smirk in his words. I tugged at the restrains, trying to get loose but they were too tight. I moved my head to the side, breathing as my face was pushed up against the soft covers of the bed. 

My heart beat quickly against my chest as I felt Chris’ smooth hand rub against my back. “Relax.” He purred. Chris’ kept stroking his cock, his hand on my back went to my ass to spread my cheeks. His tip pushed against my entrance making me bite my bottom lip. 

“Shit, you’re squeezing my cock so perfectly.” Chris moaned as he slowly pushed his dick inch by inch. 

Tears threaten to spill from the corner of my eyes as Chris’ cock stretches me wider than I’ve ever been stretched. “Shh, there we go. Good boy, you’re doing so well. Almost there.” Once fully in, Chris paused for a moment so I could adjust to his size. “Fuck you look so good stuffed full of my fucking cock.” Chris landed another rough smack to my ass which made me yelp loudly. “Fuck, so sexy.” He moaned. 

Exhaling softly, I rolled my hips against his, wanting more. “Oh, someone is being greedy.” 

“Please, your cock feels so good in me.” I whined, being full with Chris’ cock in my ass and my dick rubbing up against the soft fabric of the covers was nearly making me want to come. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Chris snickered, gripping the chain in between the cuffs that were digging into my skin, I hissed loudly as he pulled my arms back. He pulled his cock out and thrust back into me, he started to do it repeatedly. His pace started to pick up, sloppy wet sounds and skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the hotel room.

“Fuck!” I roared out, arching my back and meeting up with Chris’ thrust. I pushed my ass back, matching with his pace, his cock drilling deeper into me.

“Oh little rookie likes it when I pound his ass?” Chris smirked. I couldn’t help but to moan. A few harsh strikes landed on my ass. “I asked you a question, use your words.” He growled.

“Yes! Yes I fucking love when your cock is so deep in me.” I desperately said. My cock throbbed for attention, my balls full of come. “Please, touch me, please let me come.” I panted. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as I worked on Chris’ cock. 

“You want me to touch your hard aching cock?” Jericho’s voice was nearly mocking.

I wanted to cry as Jericho was teasing me with his words. “Yes, yes please!” 

Surprising that was all it took, Jericho reached his arm around my waist and gripped my cock with his soft hand. Tugging my cock synced to his hips pushing into me. “Oh fuck yes, thank you.” I moaned, jerking my hips into his touch.

 “Are you ready for me to fill you up?” Jericho moaned into my ear. 

Nodding my head, “Please, I need it.” I moaned. 

“Then you shall have it.” He hissed as I squeezed tighter around his cock.

Jericho’s thrust started to pick up along with his hand on my cock, not missing a beat. My body vibrated with his magical touch. My eyes fluttered shut as my mouth slightly dropped open. “Oh fuck, please I’m going to come.” 

Jericho squeezed the base of my cock, teasing me away from my orgasm. “You’re mine isn’t that right, rookie?” 

Gulping, I didn’t say anything, only nodded. That wasn’t good enough for him. “Say you belong to me or else I won’t let you come.” He threatened, the hand that gripped the chain in between the cuffs slapped my other ass cheek.

“I’m yours! I’ll always belong to you!” I cried out, nearly screaming.

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” He grunted. “You may come.” He kept jerking my cock. Arching my back, moaning loudly. Buckling my hips into his touch I bit my lip. My cock twitched in his touch. 

“Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming.” I moaned. My hot come spurted out of my cock, hitting the clean hotel covers and Jericho’s hand. Jericho let go of my lip cock, gripping my waist as he started to pound faster into me. Jericho pumped his cock a few more times in me, his come soon exploding inside of me. “Fuck, yes take my come.” Jericho moaned. 

I balled my hands into fist, becoming limp on the bed. Breathing heavily as I laid there. “Fuck, Simon.” Chris sighed out, pulling his dick out of my ass slowly. He watched as his seeds spilled out of my fucked hole. “Hmm.” Jericho admired the sight for a few seconds. Hearing him walk away and come back I heard a click and another click. The cuffs falling off of my wrists, I instantly brought them up to my chest and rubbed them. 

“You took my cock so well.” Jericho laid down on the bed, pulling me close to him.

“Thank you.” I blushed, hiding my face in his neck. We both laid there, naked and slowly fell asleep.

A few hours later I woke up. Getting out of bed, I walked towards the sliding mirror, glad that we were a few stories up so no one could see me looking over the city, naked. The sun barely hits the horizon, the sky still dark, stars sparkling and the city still lit up with lights. 

“You’re up early.” Jericho hummed, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I jumped slightly, startled by his touch. “I couldn’t sleep.”

I felt Chris’ frown press against my lips. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“I… I actually came to you last night to talk to you about the Inner Circle. I didn’t plan on getting fucked.”

“Oh, I planned on fucking you.” Jericho chuckled.

“I’m being serious.” I laughed.

“I am too. What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

“I don’t think I belong in the group. I’m becoming a bully to my old friends and that’s just not me.”

“So you want out?” He asked, his chin resting on top of my head.

I didn’t say anything, I watched the traffic down below us. I also felt Jericho’s bare cock against my ass.

“Listen, you’re a sweet kid. The only illegal thing you’ve done was jerk it in a public bathroom.” 

“You heard me?” I squeaked.

“Heard you moaning right when I entered. You’re lucky I entered first. I also recognized your shoes.” Chris nuzzled against me. “But I agree, you’re not a bully type, but that doesn't mean I want you out of the group. Sammy is coming back and he’s more of the snobby kid of the group. How about you can be the sweetheart of the group? We can do backstage segments where you try to show me and The Circle how to be kind. I think people would find that hilarious and see us fail at being kind and nice to people.” 

I chuckled at the thought. “I suppose that can work.”

“Sounds good to me, now let's get back to bed.” Jericho kissed my neck, nibbling slightly.

#chris jericho smut #chris jericho imagine #aew smut #wrestling smut #chris jericho fanfic #aew fanfic #chris jericho masterlist #chris jericho one shot #aew one shot #all elite wrestling #aew rampage #aew #aew fanfiction #aew one shots

[ratintank]

@asb-fan​ Espio in “Save Bees” outfit commission - Middle size pixel art; - 12 frames of animation; - 2 days of work; ---- Thank you very much <3 It was fun to work with ya!

#commission #Espio the Chameleon #Asb-fan #pixelart #animation #pixel animation #sonic the hedgehog #GOOD GOD I WAS COMMISSIONED BY ABS!!!! #AAAAAH!!!!! #SOMEBODY TELL 'EM I LOVE THEIR WORK!!!! #Im crying now #im happy #sdahsdasd #also this work was like 6$ cash #so like.... *wink-wink*

[babyybitchhh]

Okay, hold on a second. I’ve gotta be honest with y’all, gather around for a minute here because I am sweating BULLETS. 🥵💦

Egyptian god Enji tho ...

#i looked at that artists blog with every intention of commissioning them my own damn self #the world NEEDS egyptian god enji #i swear it does #but it looks like they only draw dabi and hawks #im crying #😭😭😭 #might just fuck around and write a fic to get my fix #god just fucking imagine him #barrel chest OUT #chiseled abs OUT #bulging biceps OUT #thick ass thighs OUT #GOOD FUCKING GOD #i am absolutely losing my mind right now #nothing but a tiny white linen cloth covering his #erm #sizeable package #barely contained #some gold jewelry #OMG??? #SOME EYE LINER?!? #AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH #🥵🥵🥵🥵💦 #😳😳😳😳😳💦 #it is suddenly HOT in here

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ayato kamisato

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: god he can't get enough youーthe way you hold yourself close to him as he drives himself deeper into you. he wishes these nights could never end.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): oral sex ( giving and receiving ), rough sex, hand-holding, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: gender neutral

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: jours vides ー million eyes

nsfw below!

While Ayato is skilled in many a talent, he's not exactly as skilled in sex as much as he would like to be. Well sure there's the occasional pressure for him to think about choosing someone since he's so young and handsome, but he just brushes it off with an awkward smile.

Since he's so busy with the commission affairs, and other governmental documents and such, he's likely pent up from the lack of any sexual content and lack of masturbation. So yeah, his mind is not exactly focused on the more sensual things of life.

I like to think that Ayato secretly bought romance novels, and when he is finally able to slink off to his room, he opens up the books on a very specific chapter where the two characters passionately kiss under the winter night sky, as they become one over and over again, until they tire out. He can't help but imagine what it would be like if the two of you did that as wellー

Ayato's so slow when the two of you are finally getting heated, his hands cautiously groping around your body, as your hips grind into his. He's so damn nervous since the stories he's read so many times before aren't really guiding him with your bold actions, but he isn't that cluelessーhe gets the hang of it soon.

He lets out whimpers and groans when you pull on his long silver-blue locks, whether it be when he's slipped his cock into your tight walls, or his mouth has completely enveloped your quivering sex. It's his guilty pleasure for enjoying such a rather simple action, but since it means that you're feeling good because of him, then it's okay, right?

Okay but,,, this man is toned as fuck, all of that training with the sword and polearm did not go to waste, seeing as how broad and nice his muscles are. Especially his finely toned absーdamn it you're drooling again. Ayato can easily pick you up and not even break a sweat, now imagine how useful it becomes when the two of you are getting friskyーhe could absolutely fuck you while standing up, using you as his own personal cocksleeve, or manhandling you into a favorable position before driving his hips into yours as he savors the feeling of becoming one with you like this.

Absolutely addicted to the taste of your lips, he just can't get enough of them. Whether it be when he's fingering you open, or his cock is reaching the deepest parts of you, his lips are always usually melded against yours. As your intimate moments continue, his kisses become sloppier, moans escaping from his mouth as he becomes lost within you altogether.

The poor man went completely red when you suggested sucking him off under his desk, and tried to get that idea out of your mind. Hah, jokes on him, you're doing it regardless. Next thing he knows, his cock is fully sheathed inside of your tight throat as you grip his thighs tightly, preventing him from pulling away. And dear archons if an attendant walks inーhe has to stop his hips from bucking into the tight heat and keep his groans in.

Every session with Ayato is always filled with poetic praises of you, of how much he loves you, of how you look so exquisite in the dim light of the candles, and how good you make him feel. Even in your pleasure-filled daze, you can always make out the faint outline of his loving smile, before he presses happy kisses all over your face, chuckling at your squeals.

His princely side shines throughーtrailing kisses along your thighs as he buries his face in between your legs, intertwining his fingers with yours as he slams himself into you, and kissing your tears away with a relieved smile.

Despite that, Ayato seems to like fucking up into you from behind, his face buried in between your neck and shoulder, as his hands hold your hips in an almost bruising manner. Sometimes he'll even pull his face away to watch your hole eagerly suck him back in, tightly gripping down on him with a vice-like grip.

Don't be mistaken though, he does have his rougher momentsーwhere he's pistoning his hips into your like a feral animal as his hands toy with your perked nipples and quivering sex. He has your face turned so that he'll always be kissing you in a bruising manner, eating up your moans and cries as you reach another orgasm.

Before he didn't see the appeal of cumming inside of you, since it'd be a whole other mess to clean up, especially seeing as how exhausted you are, but once he sees his milky cum dribbling out of your quivering hole, it just opens a whole other door for him. That, and your thighs are free game for him, so if he needs to pull out, your thighs will do the trick.

He may be somewhat clueless with this sort of thing, but he knows well enough that he needs to fetch you a new robe and a towel to wipe you off. If you desire, he can carry you to take a bath, as warm water can help with relaxing one's muscles, especially seeing as how yours were all wound up just moments prior.

Ayato adores holding you close to him after sex since he craves to be close to you and nuzzling into your warm body. He'll pull your hand to his lips before pressing a single loving kiss upon it, as he gazes at you with the most love-struck expression. No matter how you sleep, he'll always be holding your hand, not wanting to part from you, even in his slumber.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #ayato kamisato x reader #ayato kamisato smut #sub reader

[lazysimp]

Nothing’s Working /// Hawks x Male Reader (18+)

✧Click HERE to read Fem version ✧

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Dragging your drunk boss home was not how you planned to spend your first night off in weeks and yet somehow you found yourself hauling him over your shoulder and back to your apartment to have him sleep it off. . . You should have known that nothing was ever that simple when it came to Hawks.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings/tags: Power Imbalance, Banter, Explicit Sexual Content, Teasing, Masturbation,  Begging,  Oral sex (receiving), He/Him pronouns, All characters are adults,18+ Only

masterlist┃AO3

“That is it, you are going on a diet! Starting tomorrow no more KFC for you,” You wheeze through clenched teeth. Carrying your boss home was sure as hell not in your job description and yet here you were, dragging the damn man to your apartment. Who would have thought someone so heavy would be such a lightweight? 

“Hey! I am not fat,” Hawks squawked in protest. 

“You’re able to say that because you're not the one having to carry your ass home. What kind of idiot challenges FatGum to a drinking game?” You scold while fishing in your pocket for your apartment key. 

“It sounded like a good idea at the time, how was I supposed to know he could put away alcohol like he can put away food,” He mumbled, his words slurring together. 

“You are right Hawks, how silly of me to assume you had common sense!” Your hand was itching to slap him over the head. How could someone be such a brilliant hero and be so stupid at the same time? 

Sliding the key into the knob and turning it with one hand was a fun experiment, but you were able to get the door open long enough to kick it open the rest of the way. Slipping inside the door swung shut behind you, thank god for self-locking doors. 

“How much longer until you put me down, this position is giving me a headache? Though the view isn’t half bad.” Your eye twitched as you barely resisted the urge to throw his drunk ass onto the hard floor. 

“Could you be quiet for five seconds?” You whine, slipping off your shoes as you make your way into the living room. Swinging the hero up over your shoulder, you drop his limp body onto the small futon. 

“Urgh, you couldn't have been a little more gentle? I'm more delicate than I look,” Hawks groaned, his words muffled by the thin cushions. 

“Wow, thank you for carrying me all the way to your house on your day off instead of leaving me stranded drunk at the bar. How will I ever repay you?” You mock, rolling out your sore shoulders. 

Hawks lifted his head out of the cushion, “I don’t sound like that!” 

You roll your eyes, “You’re right, I needed to add more whining.” 

“I don’t whine,” He protested, his words slurring together. 

You scoff, “You do too. Remember that time the hero commission made you attend that rescue hero training seminar? You whined at me for a week about it.” 

“That’s different,” he argued. “I hate those stupid seminars, they are full of stuck-up pricks trying to tell me how to do my job.” 

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” You relent, walking towards the small kitchen. You open the sad little fridge and grab a slice of cold pizza and a bottle of water. 

“Here,” you gently toss him the slice of pizza and the water. “Eat, it will help with your hangover.” 

“I thought you said I needed to watch my weight?” Hawks said, his mouth already stuffed with pizza. 

“You do, but I don't want to hear you moan and groan all day tomorrow about how your head hurts.” Grabbing a slice for yourself you close the fridge and sit down on the floor in front of the futon. 

“You can sit next to me, I don’t bite.” Hawks whispered into your ear, “Unless you ask me to.” 

“Haha, very funny,” You push his face away, ignoring the way his words made you shiver. Weeks of his constant teasing put you on edge, the damn bird has no boundaries. It didn't help that being a hero made him have a perfect body. Damn him and his stupid sexy abs. 

Inhaling the pizza before he could pull another stunt, you sprung to your feet. “Bathroom is the door to the left; I have a spare toothbrush under the sink, feel free to use it. I am going to bed.” 

“Hey, you can’t leave me alone! What if I fall into a coma?” He yelled while flailing his arms. 

“That’s for a concussion birdbrain not a hangover.” You said over your shoulder as you walked into your bedroom. With the door closed you slouch your shoulders and take a few calming breaths. 

Ever since you started interning for Hawks you haven’t had even a few hours to yourself. Always being on call has left you with little time for yourself. Tonight was your first true night off in weeks and you had made plans; start the night off bingeing some anime, order in some take out, and then finish the night with some much needed ‘me time’. 

But oh no! It was like Hawks had a sixth sense to tell when you were relaxing that made him do stupid shit, like challenge FatGum to a drinking contest.

 There was no way you could try to have any ‘me time,’ he would be able to hear it with that stupid quirk of his. Death would be a better fate than him hearing that, the jokes would never end. You would have to move and change your name to escape the humiliation. 

So that left you with two options shower or sleep. You weighed the options. The shower is behind two doors and your old pipes are loud enough to mask out most sounds and after all the teasing Hawks did, it will take you hours to calm down enough to even try and fall asleep. You could still feel his hands resting on the back of your thighs while you carried him home, why did they have to be so big? 

Lust won this round, grabbing some nightclothes and a towel you swing open the bedroom door and make a beeline to the bathroom. 

“Hey! I thought you were going to bed?” Hawks yelled out. 

You quickly think of an excuse, “I-uh stink.” Brilliant, utterly brilliant. Your best idea of an excuse was to tell your hot boss you stink. 

You slam the bathroom door shut before you could hear his response, snapping the lock into place. You rest your back against the cool door, so you said something stupid in front of Hawks, this is nothing new. With any luck he won’t even remember tonight. 

Quickly stripping out of your uniform you turn on the shower and jump in, the burst of freezing water did a good job fighting off the burning embarrassment. The rusty water slowly warmed until steam filled the small bathroom. You grab the body wash and brutally scrub at your skin. 

With your body cleaned there was only one thing left to do. This would not be the best orgasm of your life but at least it should take the edge off enough to let you sleep. 

You lower your hand down your body, trailing your fingers down the soft skin of your abdomen until you reach your aching cock. You bite down on your fist to hide your sounds as your hand wraps around the base of your cock and starts to pump. 

You brace your body against the shower wall allowing you to have more control. Squeezing your hand tighter and you moved your hand the warm pressure started to build up inside you. 

Trusting yourself not to be loud you release your hand from your mouth and have it travel down to your chest. Homing in on one of your nipples you circle its soft peak until it stiffens, making it easy to roll the tight bud between your fingers. 

As the warm tingle spreads through your body your mind grows further and further away from reality. What if Hawks did catch you? Would his eyes widen in surprise before narrowing to focus on your exposed cock? Would he force his way into the shower and falls to his knees before devouring you? 

A small whimper escaped your lips, you were so close. Pinching down on your nipple harder you speed up the thrusts into your hand, desperate for a little bit more. Your legs began to shake as you started to rapidly climb closer and closer to your release, you just needed a few more seconds- 

“How much longer are you going to be in there for, I’m bored?” Hawks' deep coy voice from behind the shower curtain slams into you like a box truck. Your hands fly to close the shower curtain the rest of the way.

“Go away Hawks!” You scream while trying to keep him from peeping in. Stepping forward closer to the faucet to turn off the water your feet slide on the slick fiberglass, sending your body airborne. For a few chilling seconds you glided through the air before colliding with the floor. Staring at the ceiling you question all the choices you made in your life because obviously you fucked up one of them. 

“Don’t bite my head off. It sounds like you took a real tumble there, do you want some help?” He said with mock concern. 

“Hawks I swear if you even try to open that curtain I’ll kick your ass!” Strong words for a rookie hero lying in a puddle of water but he didn't need to know that. 

“Alright, alright I’ll back off for now.” 

Lifting your body off the floor you manage to turn the water off and grab the soaked towel off the rack on the wall. Swallowing the little pride you had left, you wrap the soggy towels around your waist and use your old clothes pile to hide your erection. With nothing left to do, you open the door. Standing in the doorway was the devil himself. 

“Move out of my way Hawks, I am too tired for this,” You can't bring yourself to meet his eyes. God, if he ever found out that your, his intern, almost came from thinking about him he would never let you live that down. 

“Aww don't be like that. I was just making sure you were safe,” His mouth lifted into a sly grin. 

You look up to meet his golden eyes, “You worried? I’m calling bullshit.” 

Hawks lifted his palms in the air, “It’s the truth, you sounded like you were in pain.” 

Pain? What in the hell was he walking about? Then it clicked, your entire body force in horror. Snapping one hand out you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him towards you. 

“What. Did. You. Hear?” You growl, trying desperately to mask your embarrassment with anger. 

He leans down, his mouth a hair away from your ear. “What are you getting so angry for? It’s not like I peeked in on you or anything, besides it’s not like you were being very quiet. It’s obvious what I heard isn’t it?” 

“It was that obvious?” you whisper. 

Hawks grabs your shoulders and starts to haphazardly rub them. “Of course, it was obvious! You are in pain from carrying me. You should have told me carrying me hurt you! I could have given you a massage, I’m told that I am a magician with my hands.” His eyes were wide and full of concern. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, “I’m fine Hawks, just a little sore. You need to stop being so nosey.” 

“So, is that a yes for a massage?” His hands continued to rub your sore shoulders. His thumbs gently dug into the tight muscle of your neck, already easing the stiffness. A little massage wouldn't hurt right? It wasn't like you asked him, he was the one who offered, it would be rude to refuse. 

“S-Sure.” Your mouth moves before you can think it through. This was a terrible idea but you were already imagining the feel of his hands on your body rubbing your body until you were a pile of mush. 

“Great!” he cracked his fingers. “You sit down and relax; this is the least I can do after you carried me to your home.” You both move over to sit on the futon. You clutch the pile of clothes to your waist, making sure to keep your secret. 

His strong fingers press down as his thumbs make small deep circles. The tight pain in your muscles slowly blended into a dull ache wherever he touched. His hands were like magic, they knew exactly what to focus on, targeting each know with expert precision. 

Your death grip on the towel loosened as his hands traveled to the middle of your back. With a thumb on each side of your spine, he massaged down the curve of your spin. Before you could stop it, a small moan slipped from your mouth. 

“I told you I was good with my hands,” He teased with his stupid sexy voice. If his hands didn't feel so good you would have been tempted to smack him. 

His hands climbed up your back until they reached your lower neck. 

“Harder,” You demand. “Press down harder.” 

His hands froze but his body moved forward to brush against your back, “Only if you say please.” 

You could feel your eyes twitch, but you really wanted it, “Please,” You growl through clenched teeth. 

“Please what?” He asked, his fingers trailed up and down the column of your neck. You bite your tongue to hold back some choice words. 

You take a few deep breaths to stop yourself from murdering the cocky bastard, “Please press down harder Hawks.” You sass. 

“That’s my boy,” His praise sent shivers through your body. His hands dug in around your neck, working out the last of the tight muscles of your back. Your entire body became jelly in his hands, it was hard to even sit up straight. 

“All done!” He said, dragging you out of your haze. You clear your throat and pull up the towel. 

“Uh, thanks,” was the only thing you managed to croak out as you made a hasty retreat to your room. 

Slamming the door shut you drop the cold soaked towel onto the floor. Not bothering to turn the lights on you walk to your dresser and grab out a pair of underwear. Opening another drawer you grabbed an oversized t-shirt and slipped it on over your head. The soft fabric clung to your cool wet skin. 

You sit your body on the edge of your bed and lean forward, resting your hands on your thighs. All the events of the night play on a loop in your head. Your heart flutters in your chest as you recall each time his hands traced your body, how they would linger before falling away. 

Your mind hurt trying to process everything. How in the hell were you ever going to face him again? The teasing from falling in the shower is going to be bad enough, but moaning? Then to top it off you practically begged him to touch you, he would never let you live that one down. 

With the plan to fake your death settled all you wanted to do now was lay down on your shitty bed and fade away. Pulling the blanket up to your neck you make a small cocoon to cuddle into. 

Closing your eyes you try to calm yourself enough to get some rest but your body seems to have other ideas. Counting sheep to slow your thoughts, fail. Imaginary world building, fail. Thinking about all the paperwork you had to fill out tomorrow, major failure. 

“Damn it!” You snarl, nothing’s working. Your heavy eyes crack open to peak out at the window beside you to see the dim orange and pink light from the crowning sunrise. You had to be at work in a few hours, you needed at least an hour of sleep to function. You have had it, there is only one method left to get you to relax enough to fall asleep. 

Lifting your hand off your stomach you reach down to slide your fingers under the small elastic band of your underwear. 

Your mind journeys away from reality, divulging into one where it wasn’t your hand teasing you, but Hawks. You imagine how he would lie on his side, caging you in with his wings as his fingers trace up and down the side of your shaft. His mouth would latch onto your nipples, lashing the swollen buds with his tongue. 

Pulling a hand up your body you lazily circle a finger around your stiffening nipple. Pinching it as you imagine Hawks teeth grazing the tip as his tongue makes sloppy circles. 

His fingers would tease your entrance, wetting them with his spit before sliding each digit inside. Giving you no time to adjust to the intrusion he presses upwards, coaxing that sweet spot inside you. Precum begins to leak from your tip as your dick pulsed with need. 

“Hawks,” you whimper to the void. Your legs now spread wide open and trembling. Your throbbing cock seconds away from the merciful release you worked so hard to reach. “Hawks, I’m going to-” 

A distinct flutter on your chest stopped your frantic fingers. You rip off the layers of blankets to reveal a single red feather resting on your chest. Lifting it with your soaked fingers, ice filled your veins. The sound of the doorknob turning was your only warning. 

“You found my feather kid, I was looking for that everywhere,” Curious golden eyes met yours. 

The innocence of his statement clashed with his predatory gaze. Before you could blink a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling your hand towards his face. 

“Ahhh, Wait, Hawks! I was just, umm… This isn’t what it looks like!” You bring the blanket further up to your body to hide. Blood rushes to your face, your cheeks now flushed. 

“What’s not what it looks like?” Hawks mouth twisted into a devilish smirk as his hands reached out to pluck the feather from your soaked fingers. His golden eyes narrow as his long fingers twirl the lone feather.  

“Nothing, never mind. I had a bad dream that’s all,” Oh god he knew. “Besides, I should be the one asking questions, you’re the one who barged into my room unannounced!” He had to know exactly what your eager fingers were doing under the sheets only moments ago. You force yourself to not look down as Hawks lifts the feather to his nose. His nostrils flare as he breathes in your scent.

“I don’t like it when you lie to me kid,” He growled. 

“I-I’m not lying,” you lie pathetically. The vigorous beating of your heart blocks the rest of the world out. Each thump sends blood rushing to your head making it impossible to think.  

Hawks scoffed, dropping the feather before leaning toward you. You try to mask the panic on your face as his hand clasps the blanket and yanks it down, exposing you to his view. You pull your thighs up to your chest in a pathetic attempt to stay modest. 

“If you were doing nothing, how did the sheets get so wet?” Hawks purred as he slipped his fingers through the cum decorating your thighs. “Just look at you kid, you’ve made a mess all over. Is all this for me?” His tone hushed as he stared at the proof of your arousal. 

“As if birdbrain,” you snap, pulling your knees in closer to your chest. “The size of your ego never fails to amaze me.” 

“You forget, my feather was on your chest. I could hear each one of those little moans you tried in vain to hide from me. You were begging so beautifully.” He paused; his eyes full of hunger now looking down at your trembling body. “Hearing you play with that cock of yours while you moan my name, there is only so much a man can handle before he snaps,” Hawks purred as he knelt beside the bed. 

His hands graze the outside of your trembling thighs, “Besides, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t help clean up the mess I caused?  

“Hawks, you know damn well I can clean this-”

“I know, I know, you are a strong hero who can take care of themselves; but helping you is the least I could do after I so rudely interrupted you.” A devilish grin covered Hawks face as he trailed his calloused fingers to the soft skin of your thighs. His hands inching closer and closer to the cause of this mess. Suddenly his hands encircle your thighs, prying open them to reveal your drenched underwear to his view.

“These are in my way,” You could do nothing but gasp as Hawks uses his feathers to slice effortlessly through the thin fabric. Tugging them out from under you he grasps the scraps of fabric and tosses them over his shoulder uncaring of where they would land, it’s not like you would be needing them any time soon. 

With nothing protecting you from his hungry gaze you clamp your legs together once more to hide your dick from him.

“Don’t you dare hide from me,” He growled. “Spread those legs for me. I want to see all of you.” His words tore a moan from your throat as he moved his body to kneel at the end of the bed. You hesitantly began to ease open your legs, slowly exposing yourself to Hawks lustful gaze. 

Your breathing grew panicked. What would he think of you now that he could see everything? You scanned his face for answers and your eyes widened when you saw his eyes, they were no longer golden but black.

“Ah that’s its kid,” He groaned, as he got his first glimpse of you fully exposed. “Look at that aching cock, so hard and just begging for my attention,” Blood rushed to your face at his crude but somehow reassuring words.

Hawks rested his cheek against your soft thigh. He had been craving you since you first stepped foot in his agency. His mouth began to drool with lust as he stared at your sex. No one had ever affected him like this. He needed to taste you, have your cum coat his tongue as you wrap those sinful thighs around his shoulders while you make those cute little moans that go straight to his cock.

He looks up to meet your unsure gaze before wrapping his arms around your thighs making it impossible to move away from his touch. “Hawks,” you whine. “Don’t you think we should talk about what this will-”

Hawks dragged his hot, wet, tongue over your inner thigh, lapping at the tender tissue. Your entire body jolts from the sudden contact. He groaned as his tongue returned into his mouth.

“I knew you would be delicious,” he praised. “But I think I’ll need another taste to confirm.”

He licks up your other thigh, his tongue coating your thigh with his saliva. “Hm, still good, but I think I should get another taste, for science you know.” He muttered as his hand brings you to his mouth.

He hovered over your exposed sex; his hot breath fanned over the sensitive tip begging for his touch.

“Such a pretty cock,” He groaned, “and it’s all mine.” His mouth descended until all you could see was his golden hair.

“Hawks!” you cry as the man of your dreams began to devour your dripping cock. This is wrong, he is your boss and could get you fired if this all goes wrong. But with each drag of his tongue, your resolve crumbled.

“Hawks, please stop teasing me.” You beg, shame long forgotten as his lips encased the tip of your dick and then back off, never giving you enough. 

Hawks’ soft lips encircle your tip, sucking it into his mouth before flicking his tongue against your slit. Your back left the bed as blinding pleasure rushed through your veins. Your fingers dug deeper into his golden hair needing something to keep you grounded.

“You’re so fucking delicious kid,” he groaned. “So sweet on my tongue, I could eat you for hours.” 

Moving his hand from your thigh he inserts two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his spit and pressing them against your hole. Instead of thrusting his fingers like you were expecting he slowly circled your entrance, teasing the vulnerable skin. The tips of his fingers push forward, breaching the tight ring of muscle sending your back arching. 

Small whimpers left your lips as his fingers sink even deeper, the slight burn from the invasion only adding to the pleasure racing through your body. Finally he bottomed his fingers out and then curled them up and down as if he was searching for something. The sucking around your dick slowed, now gently pulsating.

Your hand in his hair tightened, pushing his face harder against your aching sex, wordless asking for more. His fingers stilled their teasing inside you. His lust filled eyes gaze up at your glistening body withering for more. 

“Fuck kid, you are so greedy.” He mumbled against your skin. His fingers press up once more to finally find that sweet spot inside you. Your thighs slam close around his head as he relentlessly coaxes inside you. He effortlessly uses his feathers to push your trembling thighs to the bed giving him free access to you.

“Hawks,” You whine breathlessly, your hands digging deeper into his thick hair as he writhes his tongue on your cock. Your chest grew tight, making it hard to even breathe as he pushed your body to the brink. 

“I’m so close,” Your weak cry grew to a high whine as suddenly all of the building pressure released, sending you flying. Your heels dig into the soft bed as your back arches up. Hawk's strong hands hold you down as he continues his feast, forcing you to climb even higher. You gasp for air, the convulsions of your body making it impossible to breathe normally.

You could feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes as he continued to tease you with his mouth. You try to push his head away, “Please, I can’t.” More feathers surround your hands, gently pushing them flat on the bed leaving you helpless. You weren't sure how long he continued to push you; your mind was floating away with each new wave. 

Your mind slowly descends back down as you feel his tongue mercifully slow to a gentle lick. The feathers holding you down retreated allowing you to move once more. You were boneless, all the energy and fight you had earlier gone. 

Hawks warmth left as he stood up from between your thighs. You weakly reach your arms out wanting him to come back and instead you hear your door open. You lift your head to stare at the wide-open door to your room. Is that it?

A million worries fill your head about the stupidity of what you just did when Hawks returned to your side with a warm washcloth in his hand. You stare at him in shock as he carefully cleans you. He drops the washcloth to the floor and lays down beside you. 

“You know we need to talk about this,” You mumble weakly into his chest. 

“Shh,” he coos, “There is nothing you need to worry about, I’ll take care of everything.” 

You open your mouth to protest but he pulls you close to his chest and places a soft kiss on your forehead. You lay stunned for a few seconds and then relax in his hold. There were a million reasons you should resist but for the next few hours, you let yourself rest in his arms. 

#hawks x male reader #mha smut #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x male reader #mha hawks #my hero academia #buko no hero academia #bnha smut #hawks x y/n #male reader #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawksbnha #keigo x reader #keigo x y/n

[andypantsx3]

i could literally die right now + either deku or kirishima, andie u pick!

Surprise I picked not Deku because I was scared lmao.

Falling | Kirishima/Reader

Prompt: “I could literally die right now” Word Count: 1220 words Tags/Warnings: pro hero AU, fluff, SFW Notes: Thank you @bobawithpomegranate for beta reading!!

It had been ten minutes since the last time you had felt your arm.

It was currently wedged sideways between the door of the subway and a particularly sour looking salaryman, whose scowl was so intimidating you didn’t dare ask him to free up some space for you. Not that there was any space for him to shift into, as the entire car was packed like a sardine can. 

You had no space to go either, balanced precariously over what looked like a college student dead asleep in his seat, wet locks of red hair spilling out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. This close, you could catch the lingering scent of some orange peel body wash, a welcome reprieve from the other smells that came with close train quarters.

He was cute, even with his features slack in sleep, a tiny scar over one eyelid, and looking bone-deep exhausted like he’d just come from an athletic meet. If the wet hair and telltale swell of muscle under his Crimson Riot hoodie was any judge, he probably had. Not that you had been staring long enough to speculate…

You were still looking—not staring—when the salaryman next to you shifted, and you felt the familiar prickle of blood flow returning to your arm. You wrenched your arm from between the man and the door—only to find that had been the only thing stabilizing you as the train lurched to a stop. You stumbled, hands grasping at the air in front of the salaryman. His eyes met yours, and in a moment that seemed to stretch for a small eternity, he moved minutely backwards.

Your hands clenched just short of the fabric of his suit and you tripped sideways. 

Directly onto the lap of the sleeping student.

The sharp bone of his knee slammed into the side of your thigh as you went down, hard, your cheek stinging where it met the jut of his collarbone. You were frozen in shock for a moment, limbs locked up, before you were sliding sideways, angled towards the floor.

There was a startled snuffling noise, and a strong arm locked around your waist, hauling you back up against a hard chest.

You cringed, flushing all the way down to your toes. “Shit, I’m so sorry—”

You looked up, only for your tongue to freeze in your mouth. Looking up at you was not a sleeping college student. With his eyes open and a small grin bearing those trademark sharp teeth of his, you suddenly realized exactly who it was you were using as a seat—pro hero Red Riot. 

Though he was fresh enough on the hero scene that it was possible for him to take the train like this without being recognized, you imagined it wouldn’t be long before that would have to stop. Though you knew little about heroes, even you knew he was rocketing up the ranks, fueled by his boyish charm, roguish good looks, and a frankly illegal set of washboard abs custom-made for magazine spreads.

Washboard abs that you could currently feel pressed up against the side of your arm.

Your brain rapidly entered panic mode and you tried to throw yourself sideways off of him, but Red Riot caught you again, laughing wryly.

“Careful there!” he said, “You almost ate floor. Wouldn’t want you to bang up that cute face of yours.”

Then he paused, seeming to realize what he’d said, a hint of a blush speckling his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Uh, I mean—”

Your brain went entirely offline as you gaped at him. Had he just tried to fan service you? How did he even know you knew who he was? Were you that obvious?

God this was so embarrassing.

“No, it’s okay!” you yelped, “You don’t need to apologize, I know my face isn’t actually—uh—you know. Anyway—thanks. Yeah, thanks for saving me, you—”

The crackle of the overheard interrupted you, the train conductor’s staticky voice announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize for the delay. We’ve got an obstruction on the track, we will be delayed just a short couple of minutes.”

Red Riot was staring at you through the announcement, a little wrinkle appearing between his brows. “What do you mean your face isn’t actually—? Actually what?”

Your entire face went hot. Oh my god, did he want to have this conversation? For real? You didn’t need reassurances, you needed to get off of his lap and disappear, stat. You wondered how feasible it was to pry open the doors and leap out into the subway tunnel, to disappear into the darkness and never be seen on the surface of the earth again.

That was the only solution here.

“This is so embarrassing, I could literally die right now,” you said instead, moving to clamber off of him. “I’m going to get off now, I’m sorry I fell on you.”

Red Riot’s arm clamped down, however, jerking you back against him. When you looked up at him, he seemed just as shocked as you were by the move.

“Sorry, reflex,” he said, shifting uncomfortably underneath you. It only emphasized the firmness of the muscles under you and you wondered frantically if the flames of your embarrassment might burn so hot that you would actually catch on fire.

The train conductor’s voice crackled back to life, “Ladies and gentleman, please don’t be alarmed. There is a fight taking place on the track and we have been asked to shelter in place. Please remain calm and stay in your seats, we will be passing along directions from the Public Safety Commission as they arrive.”

Red Riot perked up underneath you. “A fight! That’s my cue! I’m um, a hero—I don’t know if you’ve heard of me? I go by Red Riot...” 

You nodded vaguely. He knew you knew, didn’t he? Why else would he have said the fan service thing…?

Red Riot smiled, another flash of those sharp teeth. Then he stood up abruptly, hefting you in his arms and whirling to place you gently down in his seat, still warm from his presence. Your face went impossibly hotter, a weird fire starting in your abdomen at the casual show of strength. You stared up at him with wide eyes.

Red Riot smiled again, then rummaged around in his pocket for something, movements rushed.

“I, um, don’t have a lot of time right now. Gotta get to the fight,” he said, producing a pen. You wondered what he was doing with it, until he took your hand, flipping your palm up.

The pen pressed into the skin of your palm and you thought for a moment that he was signing his autograph, until he capped it. “Don’t feel any pressure. Only if you want! I just thought I’d take a chance since it literally fell into my lap. I’ll, um, maybe see you later,” he said. 

“If I don’t ‘literally die right now,’ that is,” he added, laughing.

And then he was gone, pushing through the crowd of people to get to the door of the train.

You looked down at your hand. In an untidy scrawl, he’d written:

Eijirou Kirishima

And underneath:

080-1XXX-5678. Date?

You covered your face, your cheeks burning. Oh yeah. You could literally die right now.

Current event masterlist in pinned.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou #bnha x reader #eijirou x reader #bnha todoroki #garbage fest 2021 #garbage fest fics