#I fucking can't! I can't do this in such short time! I can't. focus. on 6. subjects at the same time. my brain can't!

[robobarbie]

I turned 30 today!!! Happy birthday to ME!!!! Here's a picture of me with the guy I've been dating. He's kinda like a mix of Toasty and Quest -- a glorious combo.

It's been a while since I posted here, so I figured a 30th birthday is the perfect time for a short little reflective post. Can't believe I'm older than all the BP LIs now -- crazy stuff!!!!

Anyway. Here's some things I recommend from experiences in my 20s.

1. Try therapy

As y'all know, I've pulled back from a lot of stuff online. I've been going through a bit of a life reset since 2022, but it started really getting better when I finally ripped the bandaid off and started therapy in 2023. It wasn't an easy start, but it's helped me actually address bad habits within myself that I thought (incorrectly) I was dealing with well on my own. It's freeing. It's humbling. It's made me excited for what's ahead.

2. Exercise

I started working out seriously in my mid-20s and went through waves of how active I was. But when I was active, I saw a noticeable difference in my mood and energy, especially when it came to managing my misophonia. It's not a cure-all, but it is a great boost that helps me through each week. I focus on weight training and love it for the challenge 💪 do whatever feels best to you!

3. Accept not being "the best"

Like many of you, I grew up pretty smart and that led to a lot of feelings of personal failure if I fucked up in even the smallest ways that made me look "lesser" (non-perfect scores on tests, failing to understand concepts my coworkers got easily, etc). This even used to bleed into game dev, where suddenly a lot of people looked up to me after BP. Learning to let go of that pressure was freeing. I am not a figure on a mountain top -- I am just me.

4. Keep your hobbies fun

I hated game dev for a while because of things like in #3. It became something I had to do to maintain some arbitrary status instead of something I did for fun. It was hard to recognize that in myself and correct it, but I'm glad I did. So, sorry Adonia AI is taking longer than I thought, but I am simply loving life too much rn!!!! And I love game dev again too, which is the best realization of all.

5. Spend time with people

It gets harder to make close friends as you get older. People get busy. Life gets hectic. You get tired. But making the effort to spend time with people is important. Study after study shows that the healthiest and happiest people as they age are those who have good bonds with other people. And I can definitely feel that.

-----------

Love y'all. Stay healthy and stay safe 💚

[rafayelxsylusho]

🍎 Horny thoughts #5🐡

CalebxMCxRafayel

Tw: smut

"Hey Raf, y/n has something to tell you"

Caleb puts the phone by your mouth and all you can do is whimper from the need to breathe so he pulls the phone back to his ear and speaks in a teasing tone.

"Whoa there, Raf my bad, she can't talk with my dick down her throat but I think what she meant to say is...if you don't hurry your ass over here in the next 5 minutes, our princess is gonna cum without you. Isn't that right, pipsqueak?"

Caleb tilts your head back further, forcing you to look up at him with tear filled eyes as he starts to fuck into your mouth with shallow thrusts.

"Less than five minutes, I'll be there in three"

Caleb tosses the phone carelessly onto the bed, the call with Rafayel ending abruptly. His focus is on your mouth enveloping his throbbing cock as he continues to thrust into your eager mouth. The sound of you gagging and choking on his length fills the room, mixed with the squelching of drool staining the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck, just like that pipsqueak," Caleb grunts, one hand fisting in your hair while the other grips your chin, holding you in place. 

Caleb feels your nose flare as you try to breathe through it, inhaling deeply each time he pauses briefly at the back of your throat. Your cheeks hollow as you suck eagerly, tongue swirling around his sensitive flesh. The sensation is exquisite, your mouth a tight, wet paradise that he never wants to leave.

"That's it, princess," he encourages, His hips undulate in a slow, deep grind, stirring his thick length in the tight clutch of your throat. "You're doing so well, taking me so deep. Such a good girl."

He glances up sharply at the sound of the door slamming open, his concentration broken just as he teeters on the brink of climax. He sees Rafayel storming in but he doesn't stop his thrusts, though, determined to finish what he started.

"Look who decided to join the party," Caleb drawls, not a hint of shame or remorse in his voice. 

"Not fair Caleb..."

"Life's not fair, Raf," Caleb retorts, voice strained as he continues to fuck your face with short, sharp jabs.

"You can't just - ah!" Rafayel cuts off with a sharp gasp as Caleb pulls you off his cock with a wet pop, a string of drool connecting your lips to the swollen head.

"Can't I?" Caleb taunts, rubbing the tip of his cock against your messy lips, smearing the saliva and pre cum across them. "I found her like this, Raf. Spread open and desperate for a cock. Finders keepers, losers weepers, remember?"

Caleb pulls you up by your hair until you're kneeling on the bed, tears and drool streaking your face. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest as he grins at Rafayel.

"But don't worry. There's plenty to go around. Isn't that right, pipsqueak?" Caleb doesn't wait for an answer, instead he captures your lips in a filthy kiss, tongue delving into your mouth. He swallows your whimpers and moans, putting on a show for Rafayel.

Caleb breaks the kiss and turns to face Rafayel, he keeps you pinned against his chest, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other grips your hip possessively.

"Strip," Caleb orders Rafayel "And get your ass over here."

Rafayel's face flushes a deep shade of red, but he complies, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His pants and underwear follow quickly, leaving him bare, his own impressive erection bobbing as he stalks closer to the bed.

Caleb grins in satisfaction as Rafayel approaches, and with a sudden push, he forces you down onto your hands and knees on the mattress. The new position causes you to gasp, back arching as your legs are spread wider, putting your dripping cunt on full display. Caleb takes advantage of the new angle, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance with each roll of his hips.

Rafayel climbs up the bed and kneels in front of you. "Look at that greedy little pussy, Raf," Caleb taunts, reaching down to collect some of the slick arousal dripping down your thighs. He brings his coated fingers up to Rafayels lips, "Taste how badly she needs it. How badly she needs us."

Rafayel's eyes widen as Caleb's fingers, slick with your arousal, push past his lips. The taste explodes on his tongue, and he can't help but let out a muffled moan around his fingers. At the same time, Caleb thrusts forward, spearing into your cunt with a groan. Your walls clench down around him, hot, tight and perfect.

Caleb chuckles, relishing the sight of Rafayel tasting your essence, feeling your walls flutter around his length. He leans in close to Rafayel's ear, voice a low rumble. "She's taking my cock so well, Raf. Her little cunt is sucking me in, begging to be filled. Isn't that right, princess?"

Caleb slams his hips forward, driving his fat cock even deeper. The sudden movement sends you lurching forward, bringing your face level with Rafayel's cock as he kneels before you. You find yourself staring at the glistening drop of precum beading at the tip of his cock, your mouth watering at the sight.

You can't help but swipe your tongue across the sensitive head of his cock, lapping up the drop of precum.

Caleb hisses in pain as Rafayel's teeth sink into his fingers, yanking his hand back "Careful, you know better than to use your teeth," he warns.

Caleb fists a hand in your hair and pushes your head forward, forcing your lips to wrap around the head of Rafayel's cock. He holds you there, not letting you pull back as he pushes more of Rafayel's length into your mouth, making you take him deeper.

"Show him how it's done, pipsqueak," Caleb growls, slowly feeding you inch after inch of Rafayel's thick shaft. "Show him how to use his mouth"

Rafayel's grip tightens on the sheets, fingers twisting the fabric as pleasure crashes over him from the feel of your hot mouth around his cock. He lets out a choked whimper, hips twitching with the urge to thrust faster, but he restrains himself, knowing Caleb is in charge right now.

“You’re not doing it right,” Rafayel hisses, “you should fuck her faster.”

"Oh, I’m doing it wrong? But she is sooooo wet right now, Ugh, and this feels so fucking good, too"

"Cutie, tell him to stop… This isn’t fair”

"She’s so fucking tight, Raf… God, she’s milking my cock right now…”

Caleb's body drapes over your back like a heavy blanket. His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, "Your throat's already sore from taking my cock, isn't it princess?"

One of his hands slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist, the flare of your hip. He grips your hip, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he rocks into you from behind, stirring your insides.

You pull off Rafayels cock and suck in a sharp breath "Yes it is, wanna take over for me?"

Caleb smirks and leans in closer, bringing his face mere inches from Rafayel's throbbing cock, now slick with your saliva.

"My pleasure, princess," Caleb purrs, hot breath ghosting over Rafayel's sensitive flesh. He turns to Rafayel, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Poor thing looks like it needs more attention, doesn't it? Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

With that, Caleb leans forward pushing your head to the mattress and drags his tongue along the underside of Rafayel's shaft in a slow lick. He starts at the base, tracing the thick vein running along the length, before swirling his tongue around the swollen head, lapping up the mix of your saliva and Rafayel's leaking precum.

All the while, he never stops moving behind you, hips rolling in a steady rhythm, his cock driving deep. The stimulation has you seeing stars, a strangled moan escaping your lips as you watch Caleb worship Rafayel's cock with his mouth.

Rafayel drags a hand up to cover his face, fingers splaying over his mouth as a groan tears from his throat. "Fuck, Caleb..." he gasps, hips bucking reflexively at the intense sensation.

Caleb takes Rafayel's reaction as encouragement. He parts his lips and takes the head of his cock into his mouth again, suckling gently at first before taking him deeper, until he feels the tip of Rafayel's dick hitting the back of his throat.

"Fuck this is good...Caleb baby, he likes it rough, use lots of pressure on his tip, you can use your teeth a little and make sure to hollow your cheeks when you pull back"

Caleb pulls off Rafayel's cock with a lewd pop and looks up at Rafayel, eyes glinting with determined light as he takes your advice to heart. A smirk tugs at his mouth.

"Gotta give the people what they want, right?" Caleb murmurs, before diving back in. This time, he takes Rafayel deep in one smooth motion, nose pressing against his pelvis as he swallows around him. He suckles hard, cheeks hollowing as he pulls back, teeth grazing lightly along the sensitive flesh.

He sets a fast, rough pace, bobbing his head in time with the sharp snaps of his hips behind you. He focuses his attentions on the tip of Rafayel's cock each time he pulls back, tongue flicking out to tease the weeping slit before his teeth catch and tug lightly at the frenulum. He keeps you filled and stretched, your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

Rafayel throws his head back, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as the new intensity of sensations overwhelms him. His hands fist in Caleb's short hair, gripping tight "Oh fuck, oh shit, Caleb!" he pants, thighs trembling with the effort of holding back.

"That's it, such a good boy. He is getting close Caleb, keep going. I'm gonna cum too."

He takes Rafayel as deep as he can, nose pressed against his pelvis, and sucks HARD. His cheeks concave sharply as he pulls back, tongue lashing over the sensitive head before his teeth catch and tug, sending Rafayel over the edge.

Caleb looks up at Rafayel, purple eyes shining with lust and satisfaction as he sees the pleasure contorting his features. He holds your hips bruisingly tight, pulling you back onto his cock as he drives into you.

As Caleb feels your walls clamp down around him, your body shaking and shuddering through the force of your climax, he lets out a groan around Rafayel's cock. The sound is muffled but no less intense.

Caleb's own hips jerk and stutter, losing rhythm as his orgasm crashes over him. He buries himself as deep inside you as possible, the thick head of his cock flaring and pulsing against your battered cervix as he paints your insides with his release. He works his hips in shallow thrusts, grinding against that special spot inside you, drawing out your climax.

Caleb releases Rafayel's cock from his mouth and without warning, he turns your head towards him, hand gripping your chin firmly. You gasp as you feel the cool air hit your lips before they crash against Caleb's, his tongue pushing into your mouth.

You realize his intent just as he pulls back slightly, allowing you to see the thick glob of Rafayel's cum on his tongue. With a smirk, Caleb pushes his tongue forward, the pearly liquid sliding from his mouth to yours.

"Swallow, princess," Caleb commands huskily

You obediently close your lips around Caleb's tongue, feeling Rafayel's cum slide from his mouth to yours. Its thick and slightly bitter on your tongue as you let it pool briefly before swallowing, your throat working to gulp down every drop.

Caleb watches your throat bob when you swallow. He can feel Rafayel shudder behind him, likely just as affected by the erotic sight. Caleb's eyes are dark with satisfaction, admiring the way your cheeks flush and your chest heaves with labored breaths.

Rafayel lets out a breathless laugh, still trying to come down from the high of his orgasm. "We are a bunch of fucking freaks, aren't we?"

[arcane-ish]

The thought of CaitVi content without Amanda's involvement scares me.

Like, I have my issues with Amanda, I think she has some pretty bad taste and instincts in some area. But I can't help but fear that people trying to do CaitVi without her will be even worse.

As much as people joke about a CaitVi spinoff, others have rightfully pointed out that it could mean any number of things. Let's talk about it a little bit:

Cameo or reference in one of the upcoming projects (ie Bilgewater live action or Noxus/Ionia). Points in favor of this option that Christian is likely involved with this branch of Riot media and he is the one talking about not being able to speak on it. The downside of this option that this would likely be small and it would likely take a lot of time to manifest (for what it's worth: I'm actually unconvinced at this time that the Noxus/Ionia stuff they are talking about will be an actuall tv show or movie and that it won't just be the normal Riot short promo vids and comic books). The upside would likely be that it would feel more "official".

More CaitVi dedicated content, but in a different, cheaper format. Most notably: comic book or short story. The upside of this would be that it could focus actually on them. And it would be relatively easy and cheap for Riot to do. However, I fear that most fans who came in via Arcane are not going to be super interested in it and aren't going to really perceive it on the same "level" as Arcane. And I think general League and lore fans would only be interested if they use it to introduce some new threat.

A larger CaitVi project. ie novel. CaitVi police procedural. Maybe some sort of animated short. This of course would be the big dream. I'm just not sure how likely it would be. Like I would be more confident if a known big fan like Amanda was still on board. But League proper aren't really known to be big shippers in general and all League produced stuff still has to go through the hurdle of being something they think would appeal to a League audience. I think there's truth to the idea that something like a CaitVi police procedural is something that would be very explainable to a general audience simply because it's a very universal formula, but I think Riot (particularly with their shut down of Riot Forge) is pretty clear on the general audience not really being what they are interested in.

Personally, I'm open to seeing more CaitVi stuff. I'm among the people who liked them okay in season 1 and was kind of meh-d by season 2.

I don't dislike them enough that I think Cait being good to Vi isn't realistic, but I wouldn't mind to seeing more content where Cait is just being a nice and decent girlfriend to "make up for" season 2 in my mind.

And I do think that "CaitVi track Warwick/what happened to Warwick" is kind of like an obvious direction they could go into. (yes influenced by the "tea" fanart from the gallery event)

And because of their setting/position in the story, you can slot in basically anything into "Caitlyn and Vi track down X". They could dig into Singed, the herald,Noxian spies, Urgot, a new threat. You have lots of options depending on how personal versus how lore heavy you want it to be. (I think a "CaitVi dig through the rubble and investigate what the fuck the herald was and what happened to Viktor and Jayce" would be something that would also appeal both to Arcane and to League lore fans, plus a good way to catch up with the characters who are still in Piltover after the end)

I think that's kind of something interesting in how Arcane did their ending.

To me, Jinx's ending is very clean in a way. Yes, tragic, but imo you can buy that it's a new chapter, a new journey. You can imagine her doing their journey elsewhere, but it works "in your head". They can pick it up any time, but they don't have to.

The CaitVi ending rubbed me the wrong way, but at the same it felt like they wanted to created a more closed one for them. IMO based on what Caitlyn did and what Vi had to go through, I think a more rugged ending would have fit. Caitlyn visibly still having her fancy house and position just feels kind of off to me. IMO an ending where Caitlyn and Vi are kind of messed up but vow to fix the enforcers together would have fit the story more BUT it would have had the downside of being more open, about begging more that we should get to see that story. "Caitlyn and Vi will chill in Caitlyn's fancy house on a pile of Caitlyn's money" leaves them in a more peaceful state where you don't really have to see it.

But as I said, I wouldn't mind if they reopened the story again and showed us more of what they are up to. Because I personally do have a need for seeing more normal/nice Caitlyn and how she and Vi are doing together.

[lynaferns]

School is draining any small motivation I had for art

or creativity in general

(tw: I got pretty much depressive in the tags but I needed to dump this somewhere and this may not be the best place but is where I feel better talking about my problems or insecurities, so feel free to ignore)

[reignpage]

Munchkins

The different ways the JJK men eat pussy

Gojo: like it’s a game

He thinks shit be funny when it’s really not. Fingers spreading your lips apart, he’ll coo at the quivering of your hole. 

“Oh look, she’s talking to me,” he mutters to himself, grinning. “Hi, pretty baby. Whatcha trying to say? ‘You’re so handsome, Satoru?’ And, ‘You’re the best lover I’ve ever had?’”

When he continues his little conversation, you know he’s genuinely getting lost in his own delusions. A whimper of frustration leaves you. That grabs his attention and with a mock gasp of shock, he presses an apologetic kiss right on your clit, sucking as hard as he can to really get his point across. 

“Awwwwww, baby. I’m sorry. Bet you were feeling left out, huh? Okay, okay. Time to get serious.” 

And then a wide tongue is splaying flat against your entire pussy, spreading your wetness around as he motorboats your sloppy cunt, humming a breathy laugh at the juicy sounds that he elicits. “How’s -ha- this? Better? God, you taste so good. Been eating pineapples, haven’t you?”

“S-shut up, Toru,” you groan. 

“Hey, don’t be mean,” he grumbles with no real heat. 

The orgasm that washes over you is powerful and you can’t conjure a single word out even when he quizzes you like an idiot, rubbing in that he's made you feel so good, you're left silent and dumb. “What day is it? No, I don’t think it’s ‘oh fuckkkk.’ Let's try so something easier. Can you recite pi to the one hundredth digit, baby? No? Yeah, me neither. Aw, you look so pretty. I should take a picture, shouldn’t I? Okay, okay, hold that face. Gonna get a camera.”

Geto: like it’s a test

“Come on, pretty.” He pulls away from your cunt, lips glistening with your juices and you have to fight the urge to close your legs from sudden embarrassment. “You’re pulling my hair too hard. How am I supposed to give you all my attention if you’re pulling me away, hmm?”

Lying down on his stomach, he’s placed himself in the most comfortable position for him to do everything it takes to bring you pleasure. And just as he said, locks of his silky black hair pool through your fingers as you tug every time the tip of his tongue rolls your bundle of nerves with expert precision. 

“Sorry, Sugu,” you find the clarity to whimper out. 

His arm reaches out to grip a breast and the weight makes his eyes roll back. As if punishing you for distracting him, he pinches a nipple and shoves his tongue inside your pussy, feeling the gummy walls clench down. Your back arches. “’s okay, pretty girl. Just —mhm so well-behaved— focus on the pleasure, alright?”

"Oh, Suguru, I can't. S-so good, oh yes, right there."

A thumb finds its way onto your clit, rubbing in precise and controlled circles; he knows just how you like it. Your moans get louder and louder. “Close? Tell me what you need. Talk to me,” he pleads. 

The smile that fills your blurry vision after a wonderful orgasm blinds you. His eyes explore your face, seeking every twitch and sigh like it fuels him, and maybe it does because his hard, leaking cock pushes in slowly, massaging every pleat inside your pulsing walls. 

“Let me hear more of your beautiful moans. Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

Choso: like an addict

You’re kneeling in the living room, pulling fibres from the plush carpet. Shorts pulled down, you can do nothing to stop the man moaning behind you as he sucks your clit with no technique. His tongue is venturing all the way down and all the way up, chasing after the taste of you. 

“Fuck! Choso, w-what is wrong with you?”

The day had started like normal. On your way to the kitchen, he murmured something about how good you smelt, and, without warning, tackled you onto the ground. This is so typical of him; he eats you out in the shower, against the front door, the window, in the car, in a park, and so on and so forth. And he does it all shamelessly.

“Sorry, I just -mhm- c-couldn’t help -ah so good- myself.”

It’s wet everywhere and not just from the waterfall of juices streaming out of your pulsing hole. Choso’s drooling —no, practically slobbering— all over your thighs, lapping up every drop. Despite all the times he’s tasted you, he can never get enough. 

Most days you have to fight him off, throwing pillows at his face and swatting his wandering hands even when he pouts and asks, “But why?”

And when you cum, mind completely blank as you pant desperately, face firmly planted on the carpet as his hands hold your hips up, his mouth doesn’t stop. 

“Ah, can I have one more?” He presses his cheek to your slit with a squelch and smooshes it, enjoying the heat against his clammy skin. “Please?”

You roll your eyes.

"No, don't crawl away. That's not nice. Oh, do you wanna do it on the kitchen counter? Okay!"

Toji: like a big meanie

“God, she’s talkative today, ain’t she?”

In his defence, you deserve this. He had just come home from a long day being a killer for hire and fell on the bed with just a grunt. You should have let him rest, you knew that, but in your defence, he’s sexy as hell.

Literally walking sex. 

“Y’r soaking the bed like a slut, look at you. Didn’t you grow out of this habit, ma? What kinda example you trying to show to our kid?”

His fingers are pummelling inside your pussy, curling against your G-spot without mercy. The pressure he’s building inside rivals the vacuum of his mouth on your clit. “Just had to climb up and sit on my damn face, didn’t ya? Couldn’t keep it in your pants? What? I don’t give it to ya enough? No, ‘course not, cause this dirty pussy always needs to be stuffed full, doesn’t she?”

There’s no particular rhythm to your grinding, and your desperation makes the corner of his scarred lip tick up. When you look down, your eyes meet his and the wink he sends you drives you over the edge. 

“That’s a new record ha. Must have been pent up, poor baby. Good thinking taking what you want when you need. Proud of ya, kid.”

Out of breath, you ask with a little shame, “You're not mad?”

SMACK!

Your asscheek is burning from the slap and you fall down on the bed with a ‘fuck you!’

“How long have ya known me, dumbass? I could be bleeding from a bullet in the chest and I’d still let you ride my dick.”

Nanami: like a man in love

“Sweetheart, are you sure I’m not distracting you?” 

For whatever reason, your husband still feels guilty about his desire despite all the years you've been together. Watching you slave away at the stove was apparently a stimulating sight. In his own Kento way of saying ‘thank you,’ he had cuddled up behind you, pressing kisses on your neck with his hands wandering down your curves. 

Moaning, you do your best to stir even when his face is shoved in between your thighs, suckling on your pussy from behind. “Ken, you silly man. Of course you’re —ngh!— d-distracting me but it’s a good —oh, Ken— distraction, d-don’t worry.”

“Really? Oh, that makes me so happy, darling, because I really couldn’t hold on any longer.” Even when he’s being absolutely filthy as he forces naughty squelches out of your sensitive pussy, he’s being so sweet — occasionally, he lays kisses on your clit, whispering praises like he’s spell-struck. “My lovely wife. My beautiful wife. My darling love.”

His warm breath and his even warmer words pushes you to the light and you’re spasming in his hands and on his mouth. 

“That’s it, honey. Such a good girl. How did I get so lucky?”

Then, sweaty and elated, he stands to full height and smothers you in a kiss. Distantly, you hear the click of the stove before you’re carried away, bridal-style to your bedroom. Your giggles makes him smile and, when he lays you down gently on the bed, he takes you in with a sparkle in his eyes. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Let me show you my sincerity, sweetheart.”

Sukuna: like a liar 

When you had wandered into the garden, you hadn’t expected that you’d get pulled to the side, off the path, and pushed against a tree. Before you can process anything, your lips are being devoured by his — sharp teeth, unforgiving lips, and a growl echoing in your mouth. 

A big hand worms its way through your layers and tears off your flimsy panties with one yank. Just as the cool breeze meets your slit, a palm covers the entire area. 

“Kuna, w-what are you doi—Ah, fuck!”

A long and wet tongue prods its way around, rolling your clit with reckless abandon. You hear both mouths, from his face and his hand, growl in satisfaction at the taste of you. “I could sense your growing need, woman. It was overwhelming. And as your king, I must fulfil my duty and grant you one moment of pleasure. Rejoice in my benevolence.”

That’s definitely not the case since you were thinking of nothing but what to cook for dinner but you know him; he hides his desires with what he knows best. 

Deceit. 

“I’ve barely done anything and look at you, writhing like a worm. How pathetic,” he snarls. Sukuna kisses your lips the way he eats your pussy: like he’s desperate and hungry — positively starved.

Your orgasm is practically forced out of you, taken like it was always his to begin with. Deep in the back of your mind, you hope no servants have wandered near, or hell, stepped foot in the garden at all because your moans and whimpers were unreserved.

“Your moans are grating on the ears. Try to do less squealing like a mouse when you take both of my cocks, woman.”

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[sceletaflores]

LAYING IT ALL ON THE LINE...

꩜ masterlist ꩜ update blog ꩜ inbox ꩜ taglist ꩜ ao3 ꩜

｡꩜°‧➵ PAIR: Joel Miller x fem!reader

｡꩜°‧➵ WC: 4.1k

｡꩜°‧➵ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, post-outbreak, hurt/comfort, joel's pov, general violence, minor character injury, jackson!joel, when he picks an unnecessary fight with you because that's all he knows, mentioned age gap, joel miller as a sad old man, joel miller experiences feelings, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, clothed sex, unprotected sex, erectile dysfunction? we don't know what that means in this house because that old man can fuck like he's twenty AND his knees are made of steel (but only sometimes), porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡꩜°‧➵ @retrosabers SAYS: thinking about you almost dying on patrol and joel is FUMING, unable to convey just how worried and anxious it makes him. the only way he can even remotely conceptualize his feelings is through a very PASSIONATE rawdogging ♡

｡꩜°‧➵ NAT'S NOTE: everyone say thank you sid for this absolutely luxurious prompt...i'm waiting. i had so much fun with this! i love love love a good semi-angsty, emotionally constipated man having to come to terms with his buried slash repressed feelings in the gritty wake of a near-death experience, like that's my shit. hope y'all love it!

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics!

joel miller realizes that love isn’t just a four letter word…

"Southeast perimeter’s clear. Heading west by the river bed."

“Wow, you’re finally gonna stop gettin’ us lost out here, sunshine?”

“Lost? Please, you cried when I found that shortcut through the cedar thicket.”

Joel listens to you and Tommy bicker over the radio, a forgotten cup of coffee going cold at his side. That's all he can do when you're out there—patrolling in the snow with a few others. He's not proud of how he just sits by like some anxious house wife, listening to the static between check-ins, but he can't make himself focus on anything other than the way your bright voice filters in and out.

He tries not to hover. Tries not to keep the handheld clutched like it's a goddamn lifeline. But he does, eyes glued to the thing like it might crack open and spill you out if he stares hard enough.

Joel's really not even supposed to be listening in like this. Maria's chewed him out more times than he can count each time she catches him hunched over an old radio that he's never bothered turning in, says it'll do him more harm than good worrying over it.

Besides, these channels aren't meant for civilians sitting on their asses at home. He knows that, because that's exactly what he is now—civilian adjacent. Half-retired.

Tommy jokes about it every once in a while, the way Joel's slowed down, the way his joints complain louder than they used to. A while back, he might've laughed too. Now, every little twinge of pain feels like a reminder of what he used to be.

Joel used to be the one they all looked to out on patrol. He could track better, shoot cleaner, navigate faster than most of the younger guys. That's not the case these days. His patrolling has slowed down over the past few years. He only goes out a few times every couple of months, if even that. 

He tells himself it’s by choice.

It’s not, not at all. He’s tired. His knees ache after long rides. His busted shoulder can’t handle the cold without locking up. Jackson’s got a whole rotation now, young joints, faster reflexes, eyes that don’t blur when the wind hits just right. So he doesn’t go out much anymore. Not unless the group is short. Not unless they really need him.

It makes sense. He knows it makes sense.

That doesn’t make it feel right. You out there, miles away in knee-deep snow with a rifle strapped to your back while he’s stuck here. Not out there. Not beside you.

Joel knows you can handle yourself—hell, you’ve proven that a dozen times over. You’re younger. Strong. Fast. Smart as a whip. You can shoot the cap off a beer bottle and you handle a knife better than most people your age. 

Knowing all that still doesn’t quiet the feeling of unease that eats away at him each time you strap on your gear and kiss him goodbye with a, See you later, Miller. Strolling out the door like it’s casual. Like it’s nothing.

There’s a kind of helpless fury in it. A sick twist in his gut every time he watches you ride out. Like he’s some retired goddamn hunting dog. Trusted to guard the porch, but not sharp enough to run with the pack anymore.

Joel adjusts the volume dial on the radio like it’ll make your voice stay longer.

Tommy’s laugh cuts through the speaker. “Didn’t cry. I got snow in my eye.”

“In July? Sure.”

It comes in grainy and light, full of that same teasing bite you always give Tommy—enough to make Joel’s jaw tighten with a quiet, helpless kind of fondness. He almost smiles, but it doesn’t reach past the tight pull in his chest. You’re still picking your way through territory where any tree line might be hiding something.

Joel shifts in his seat, elbows on the table, jaw clenched tight. He tells himself you’re fine. You always are. You have to be.

The channel goes still for a few beats. Then, a crack of static. Some muffled shuffling. And—

“Wait—something’s moving in the trees. Left side, just past the ridge.”

Your voice. Sharper now. Less teasing and pointedly quiet.

“Copy,” Tommy replies, suddenly serious. “Keep eyes on—”

A burst of noise. A flurry of panicked voices overlapping and shouts. The unmistakable sound of gunfire.

Then nothing.

Dead air.

Joel’s heart drops to his boots. “Tommy?” he barks into the receiver. “Come in. What the hell’s happening out there?”

When there’s no answer, Joel shoots to his feet. The chair scrapes across the floor harshly as he crosses the room in two large strides, fumbling for his jacket. “Tommy? Goddammit, someone answer me!”

Nothing.

Joel’s heart thuds violently against his ribcage as he stares at the little black box in his hand like it’s an omen. He feels it rush in all at once—panic, guilt, helpless rage curling cold and mean in his chest. His ears are ringing so loud he doesn’t hear the slam of the door behind him as he tears out of the house and into the cold air. 

Something happened. The group was compromised. You were compromised.

And he’s not there.

He should’ve been there.

Joel doesn’t remember the sprint to the stables. Doesn’t remember shouting at Maria when she tried to stop him at the gate. Doesn’t remember half the ride out. All he knows is that his hands won’t stop shaking around the reins and the bile in his throat tastes like ash—a sick, gnawing pit growing in his gut.

When he finds the group what feels like hours later, just as the sun starts to rise behind the ridgeline—you’re nowhere to be found. His eyes scan the way everyone’s spread out, some with minor injuries and the others patching them up. 

No sign of you.

Tommy plants himself in front of Joel just as he hauls himself off his horse. He doesn’t even feel the way his knees jolt as his feet hit the ground. 

“Where the hell is she?” he rasps, voice so rough it sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel. “Where, Tommy?”

Tommy’s hands are out in front of him like Joel’s a wild animal about to snap. He’s got blood on his hands, but no signs of stab wounds or bullet holes anywhere on him. It’s not his blood. Joel’s stomach turns viciously at the sight, at the thought of whose it might be.

“She’s fine,” Tommy says, eyes wide and placating. “Took a hit, it grazed her side. She wouldn’t fuckin’ stay down.”

Joel knows he won’t feel any relief until he sees you, alive and breathing with his own eyes. “Where.”

Tommy steps aside just before Joel nearly shoves past him, nodding his head toward a rock outcrop a ways away from everyone else.

You’re sitting closest to the makeshift fire, Jesse crouched beside you to clean the gash along your side. You’re bundled in someone else’s coat, hair mussed and blood soaked through your undershirt and spattered across your cheeks.

Visibly shaken. Color drained. Bloody. Alive.

Joel’s throat locks up when your eyes meet his. You give him the smallest, tired smile—like you're trying to reassure him. That look. That stupid, brave little tilt of your mouth like everything's okay even when you're the one bleeding through Tommy's jacket.

It makes something in his chest crack wide open.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t know what to say.

Doesn’t trust himself for it to be anything good.

Joel takes three shaky steps towards you before his knees give out. 

He drops hard into the snow. He doesn’t catch himself, doesn’t try. Just falls forward like a penitent man bowing at the altar of a God he doesn’t believe in. His breath comes in short, ragged bursts, eyes locked onto the red seeping through your shirt like it's the only color in the whole damn world.

There’s a beat where nobody moves. Jesse freezes, half-done wrapping gauze, and you’re just sitting there, wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf, lips parted like you’re trying to say something—but Joel’s already reaching for you.

He's on you in the next breath. Not rough, not like usual, not with that greedy, hungry touch he normally has after you come back from patrol. His hands are trembling when they find your face, tilting your chin up gently, his fingers brushing away wet blood and dirt.

Tommy glances away. Jesse too, both men busying themselves with helping the others. It feels too private, even out here in the open.

“Goddammit,” he chokes. “God—baby–”

His voice breaks on the last word. Breaks, something sharp and gutted and boyish, nothing like the hardened man who's grown to guard his emotions like they’re classified. Your hands hover uncertainty over his shoulders, the side of his face. You’re worried. He can see it plain as day, written in the wavering line of your mouth.

“Hey—hey, I’m okay,” you say, voice low and urgent. “I’m fine. Look at me, Joel, I’m fine. It just—it just grazed me, okay? I’m fine.”

You’re not fine.

You’re too pale. You’re stone-cold. Your blood is still tacky on your shirt, drying beneath his body's warmth.

Joel presses his forehead to yours and exhales like he’s been kept underwater, and you were the surface he’d been clawing to.

You whisper his name again, quieter this time, and he shushes you. “Don’t—don’t talk, just—let me—” His fingers press to the pulse point at your wrist like he still needs proof. “Let me feel you.”

You don’t say anything else.

You just hold him.

And Joel doesn’t cry. He can’t. Something won’t let him, but he stays there in the snow for a long time, holding you like a man who thought he’d never get the chance to again.

The ride back to Jackson is quiet.

You fell asleep half-way through, head lolling back against Joel’s shoulder as you both sat in the saddle, your body loose with exhaustion and the emergency pain meds Jesse had in his pack. Tommy rides ahead, checking the trail, but Joel barely looks up. He just holds the reins with one hand and holds you tighter with the other.

You’re taken to the infirmary the second everyone files through the gates. Joel sits by your bedside in stormy silence, hands curled into fists and resting on his knees, the only thing keeping him together.

You talk to the nurse on duty. You even joke with her, cracked voice and tired eyes like it’s all part of the routine. Like getting shot is just another part of the job. And Joel sits there while someone else wraps you in new bandages and checks your vitals.

It makes his blood boil.

All he can think about is the way your voice cut out on the radio. The way he didn’t know if you were dead or bleeding out in some field, alone. And now you’re laughing. Now you’re telling the nurse, “I’m fine really, just sore.” And it makes him want to tear the whole fucking clinic apart.

Joel doesn’t say a word until you're cleared to leave. 

Not on the short walk back to your house. Not when you’re walking through the door, cleaned up. Patched. Your shirt’s gone, replaced by his coat and a thermal blanket around your shoulders.

Not when you nudge his arm gently like you’re testing the waters. Not when you say his name soft, like it might keep him calm before you’re heading towards the bedroom.

It doesn’t.

The moment the door shuts behind him, Joel erupts.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish?”

You freeze in your spot halfway across the room, turning to face him.

Joel doesn’t move. Just stands there, fists clenched at his sides. His voice is low, shaking with barely concealed rage. “You gonna tell me why you thought playin’ saviour was worth bleedin’ out in the snow?”

You don’t say anything for a few beats, eyebrows drawn together in a hard frown as you look at him. “What was I supposed to do, Joel? Jesse was pinned, Tommy would’ve taken the hit. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” Joel grates, stepping towards you. “You could’ve picked you. You could’ve stayed the fuck down like Tommy told you to.”

“I was trying to keep your brother from getting shot in the head,” you snap, the tension finally striking a flint. “I made a judgment call.”

“You made a stupid call,” he spits, voice loud and blistering. “You don’t get to do that.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you repeat, your body growing stiff and tense.

“You shoulda fuckin’ stayed down.” Joel growls. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it—just rips his flannel off, tosses it hard at the wall.

You don’t flinch. Don’t even look away from him as his shirt falls and crumples into a heap on the floor. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snaps, turning to look at you again. His eyes are dark, fiery. “Jesus, you—do you even fuckin’ think sometimes? You were hit. You knew you were hit, and you kept goin’. You didn’t stop, didn’t stay down like you were told.”

He steps closer, eyes boring into yours, face twisted with something too furious to be rational. “You fuckin’ chose to be a goddamn hero, huh? Run into gunfire like it ain’t a fuckin’ death sentence? That it?”

He can see the second your expression changes, your own anger rearing its ugly head now, bitter and hot. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this about me being reckless when you know I was just trying to keep people alive. I did what I had to do.”

“No!” he snaps, pointing a finger at you, furious and stricken all at once. “What you had to do was come home. That’s it. That’s all.”

You blink at him, breath caught in your throat.

Joel can’t stop, all the emotions he’s been dealt over the past three hours finally boiling over and spilling through his lips before he can think twice about what he’s saying.

“You could’ve died,” he growls, pacing now, hands dragging through his hair roughly like he’s trying to rip the anger out of himself. “Two fuckin’ inches to the left and that bullet would’ve torn straight through your gut. You think you’d’ve made it to town in time for that? Huh?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he snarls, spinning on you, voice cracking. “It’s not fuckin’ fair. Nothin’ about this is. You go out there, and I sit at home waitin’ to see if today’s the day I lose you. That the last thing I heard is your voice cuttin’ out in the middle of a fuckin’ ambush. That’s what I got to live with now. That’s what I saw every time I closed my eyes on that ride back.”

You stand there, lost for words. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know you didn’t,” Joel says, suddenly quieter, throat thick. He swallows hard, looking down, shaking his head like he’s trying to get a grip. “But I still almost lost you. And I don’t—fuck—I don’t know what the hell I’d do if that ever—”

His voice cuts off, ragged. Then he’s in front of you again, cupping your face with both hands. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that.”

“Joel…” You lean into him, slow. Cautious.

Joel meets you halfway.

His mouth is on yours in a heartbeat—hot and bruising and pathetically desperate. His big hands frame your face, thumbs dragging down your cheekbones as he licks a wet stripe over the plush seam of your lips.

You gasp into his mouth when he pushes the blanket off your shoulders, when his palms skate down your sides to grip your hips hard. Not too rough, not yet, but he’s holding you because he needs you rooted. Anchored. Here.

Joel kisses you like he’s still furious at you, like he hates how much he needs you, like he’s punishing you for making him feel so afraid. It’s not soft, all teeth and tongue as he devours you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he pulls back, his mouth is wet with your spit, lips pink and swollen. “Need to taste you,” he mutters. “Need to feel you.”

Joel sinks to his knees before you can respond, breath huffing harshly against your stomach. His fingers tug your zipper down with frantic urgency, hooking his thumbs in your waistband to peel your pants down your legs in one swift motion.

There’s no teasing. No smugness. Just a heavy, sharp hunger carved into his face like stone as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you to his greedy eyes. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting one over his shoulder as he brings his mouth to you like a man possessed.

The first drag of his tongue is slow. Reverent. Hot and wet as he parts the slick seam of your cunt with deliberate strokes that make your spine arch. He groans like your taste knocks the wind out of him, and then he latches on like he’s got a point to prove—to himself or you, he’s not sure. All he knows is that worshipping you is the only penance that could soothe the panic still clawing at his insides.

“Joel.” Your hands tangle in his hair, chin falling to your chest as you gaze down at him.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue relentless, nose pressed deep against you. You whimper, twisting his hair in your grip, hips twitching—Joel doesn’t let you go anywhere. He’s got you trapped, your body pinned with his mouth buried between your thighs like he plans to die there.

It’s filthy, obscene—the way he devours you. Lips slick, beard growing damper with each swirl of his tongue, eyes half-lidded but still trained on your own.

Your eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide and black as spilled ink. There’s sweat beaded on your brow, lips parted and swollen as you let out small huffs of air.

Your thighs are trembling. You're soaked, arching against him, whimpering his name with tears welling in your eyes. And still—still—he won’t let up. He needs this. Needs to make you fall apart. Needs to prove to himself you’re alive by the way your body sings under his touch.

Joel can’t stop. Not until your thighs shake and you’re moaning that you’re gonna come, gonna come, Joel, please—

And you do. You fall apart on his tongue with a broken sob, legs clenching tight around his ears, hips grinding down into his mouth in weak twitches and shudders. He growls and holds you still, licking you through every last tremor until your body goes limp and threatens to sink to the floor.

Joel doesn’t let you fall—he lowers you down gently, like you’re made of spun glass, even as his hands skirt over the hem of your shirt. When he pulls it up, revealing the bandages wound tight around your side, he pauses. His gaze lingers on the wound. Jaw clenched. Something soft and wrecked flickers in his eyes.

Your hand comes up to cup the side of his face, your thumb running over the scar across his temple so gently it has his heart throbbing in his chest. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “Still here.”

Joel takes your wrist in his hand, lowering it down enough to press it hard over his heart. “You feel that?” he breaths. “That hasn’t stopped hammerin’ since I heard your voice cut out.”

You nod slowly. Your fingers curl into his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Joel squeezes your wrist, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your forearm.

He climbs up over you, chest to chest—the jut of his cock where it tents the denim of his jeans grinds over the sensitive span of your cunt as he settles himself between your legs. He’s thick, heavy even through all the layers. 

Joel’s free hand snakes down his body, making quick work of his belt. He rips his zipper down, freeing his cock from the confines of his soaked boxers and letting it slap up against his stomach.

You moan at the sight of it—hard, straining, the tip a dusty red and wet with pre-come. Your legs widen unconsciously, thighs twitching on either side of Joel’s hips.

Joel takes himself in his hand, fist tight over the base of his cock as he runs himself through your puffy cunt, slicking the skin of his cock with your wetness. “Gonna fuck you,” he breathes, lining himself up between your legs. “Gonna feel you around me, baby, need it so damn bad.”

Joel slides in with one long, smooth stroke, your slick making it easy, and the groan he lets out sounds like pain. Like relief. Like he might lose his mind from the heat of you. Your breath hitches at the stretch, head lolling back against the hardwood as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he grits through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, his hips grinding deeper as you cling to him. “You’re mine, baby. Always—always mine.”

You nod, panting, eyes glassy. “All yours,” you whisper. “Only yours, Joel.”

And then he moves.

Hard.

Desperate.

Unrelenting.

He fucks you like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth, like if he stops, he’ll unravel entirely. One arm hooks under your knee, pushing you open, deeper than before. His hips slap against yours, raw and hopelessly, but it’s not about getting off.

It’s about feeling you.

Every squeeze, every tremble, every gasp that leaves your mouth when he hits that perfect spot. 

Joel’s never felt like this before.

So angry.

So scared.

So in love.

He fucks you like he’s trying to imprint himself inside your body. His thrusts stitch you back to him, sealing you inside his chest so you can never leave. A mess of skin-on-skin and heat and slick as the two of you meet again and again and again.

“Could’ve lost you,” he growls against your throat. “Fuck, honey, I could’ve—Jesus—”

You wrap your arms around him. “You didn’t,” you whisper. “I’m here, Joel—I’m yours—”

He groans, hips stuttering, thrusts turning frantic. He can tell he’s close, that he’s been close since he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Say it again,” he pants, slamming into you with a low, wrecked noise. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Always yours—fuck, Joel—”

You wrap your arms tighter around him, pulling him closer. Your nails dig into his skin through the thin layer of his undershirt, legs locking around his waist to keep him pressed against you like you’re scared he’ll let go.

Joel doesn’t let go. He’d never let go. Not even when you moan his name like a prayer, not even when your nails rake down his back, not even when you gasp out a warning, your voice thin and needy. “Joel, I—gonna—”

“I know, baby. I got you.” His hand snakes down between you, finding your clit and rubbing quick circles over it, desperate to feel you come. “Wanna feel you. Need to—fuck—need to feel you, sweetheart. Please.”

You shatter in his arms with a broken sob, clenching hard around him as your body jerks, overwhelmed and too raw to hide it. Joel feels you pulse around his cock, the tight warmth of your cunt milking him.

It’s too much, and he’s coming with a groan that sounds like it’s been clawed from his chest. He buries himself to the hilt, hips jerking with every pulse, breath catching in your ear. “Fuck, fuck—” he pants, voice hoarse, “—love you, I love you, I thought I lost you, baby, I can’t…”

You’re both trembling when it ends.

Joel holds you there for a long time, forehead resting against yours, still buried deep inside you. He still won’t let you go. Not yet.

Eventually, when he’s calmed, he pulls back just enough to look at you.

You expect that same look from earlier—rage, fear, guilt—but it’s not there. Just love. Just deep, aching relief.

“I can’t lose you,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

You reach up, trace the curve of his brow, the edge of his jaw. “You won’t have to,” you whisper.

Joel kisses you again. Softer this time. Sweeter. A delicate press of lips against lips. His fingers stroke your cheek, pulling back enough for his eyes to trace along your face. He follows the line of your brows, the shape of your nose, the soft curve of your lips.

He can’t feel anything other than love.

Gentle. Solid. Steady.

It’s only love.

mini nat's note: everyone please send good vibes for my hell sent ch*m final on monday...i literally need all the luck i can get. thank you so much for reading! mwah.

[bootycallin]

BRING IT BACK.

basically; vi, who delivers the most lethal backshots known to man

cw: wlw. men dni. g!p! vi. unprotected sex. doggy. degradation if you squint. swearing. brief spanking. a lil ass play. implied overstimulation? mention of creampie but she cums on ur back lol. vi's down bad. briefly proofread. this is a lil short i'm sorryyy

a/n: can you tell i was excited? anyways, sevika fic coming soon. if you saw this before i apologize, i fucked something up on the formatting and had to redo it.

NSFW UTC

vi is the type of girl that likes seeing your face when you two have sex, for a multitude of reasons. for example, she likes seeing your pretty face twist in pleasure whenever she sheathes her cock fully inside of you, but she also likes keeping the eye contact. it makes sex all the more intimate, and vi prides herself in being a considerate lover. she always wants to make sure you're doing fine, and your expression is a good way of doing that.

but no story has only one side. and, neither do you, and she fucking loves your backside as well.

"shit," she groaned, growled, untamed and feral, giving ravenous, rough thrusts in and out of your sopping hole. barely gives you enough time to even moan, each thrust ripping a gasp from your throat, taking the breath away from your lungs. she's laser-focused on the way your pretty cunt swallows her girth, greedy, clenching around her so fucking tight, like your pussy never wants to let go. one hand on your waist, the other on your ass, landing a hard smack that makes you whine.

"look at that," vi grunted, grabbing at the yielding skin of your ass cheek, admiring the skin plushing between her fingers. never once does she stop, pace unrelenting. "taking my cock so well. so fuckin' pretty, baby... fuckin' love taking me from behind, don't ya? huh, princess?"

she smacks your ass again when you don't respond immediately, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"yes, viii..." you replied, in a strangled mewl, hitching your head to the side to look back at her. and fuck, if she didn't have the most fucking smug face in the face of the planet.

"yeah, fuckin' looove when i hit it from the back, don't you, babe?" vi scoffed. grabbing at your waist tighter so she could pull you back into her cock in time with her thrusts. she was in so deep, the angle making it oh-so easy for her to reach the deepest spots inside you, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix repeatedly, as bruisingly as she would kiss you.

"fuckin' love this pretty ass. shit, look at 'er," her hand just can't seem to stop squishing and squeezing the skin of your ass, running over it, feeling you up. you knew vi liked your body, but you didn't know she was this much of an ass woman.

in her defense, it's such a good angle. she's always noticed your butt, but she doesn't usually focus on it. she likes seeing your face when you fuck, but she could get used to this view. your face down, your ass up, meeting her pelvis with each thrust, how you whine and whimper at the tickle of the little red hairs that trail down her tummy and cover the base of her dick, same hairs that get slowly wetter with your wetness and hers mixing, balls smacking against your clit in a dizzying fashion.

you don't even notice her hand wandering, thumb straying, 'til it's right over your rim, prodding at your puckered hole. you keen, a hitched gasp coming from the back of your throat.

"vi, what the-hah!—"

"shhh," she shushes you, not really even giving you much of a choice but to shut up, another harsh thrust that hit right against your cervix, making you burrow your face into the plush of the bed, you two connected on every level. she starts grinding into you instead, keeping herself as deep as she could, tip practically smushing against your insides.

"it's okay, baby," she muttered, leaning down, her front nearly pressing against your back. "you'll take me, right? please, baby, gonna make you feel sooo good."

how can you deny when she asks so sweetly? a little hum of approval is all she needs to hear.

suddenly she pulls out. a smirk graces her face when you whine, a string of slick and pre connecting your cunt to her cock in a filthy scene.

she spits right on your hole, licks it just to see you squirm. her hand moves to her cock, letting out a shaky sigh as she wipes her thumb over her slit, gathering the pre-cum that built on her tip. when she feels it's enough, she aligns herself with your pussy, her thumb circling your rim. she watches as you wince when she begins dipping her thumb in, pushing her cock inside of your cunt at the same time. the simultaneous movement makes your eyes roll, unconsciously relaxing so she can push her finger in easier.

"viii..." you try to run away, but she keeps you still, grabbing tightly at your hips. you're clenching around her so tight she can barely even move.

"shh... just relax, baby. fuck, you're so tight..."

she nearly moans when your warmth envelops her digit completely. your cunt's fucking strangling her, clenching repeatedly against the base of her cock so tight she swears you're gonna cut circulation.

her next movement are robotic, drawing back from you only to slam right back in, a loud smack reverberating in the room. you swear you can feel her in your guts. she's so deep, her thumb now filling your other hole. you’ve never felt so full, and fuck, you love it.

"vi-iiii,” her name drawls out like string from your throat, the only coherent thought that you're forming being about how good it feels, how good she feels. she's also only thinking about you, about how much she wants to fill you to the brim, fuck you full of her again and again and again until it's engraved in your mind thoughts of her. 'til you're ruined, and it's engrained in that she is the one that fucks you this good, the one fucking you dumb.

"mmh? yeah? i'm listenin', baby," she's teasing. she loves how you get all huffy when she does. she knows you can't speak, not when she's pounding you into the mattress like she wants to mold your pussy for fit her cock. she spreads your ass to get more access, and fuck, the view might just be from heaven. it's obscene and so pretty and so fucking hers.

soon, that familiar knot is forming in your stomach, growing impossibly tighter each thrust. you cry out, hands hopelessly grasping at the bedsheets, your thighs spreading on instinct, back arching. vi tuts behind you, mean.

"nuh-uh," she nearly growled, grabbing your waist and pulling you right back onto her cock with a grunt. "you were beggin' for it, don't run away, you can take it, yeah?"

"vi-ii!!" you let out a pathetic cry, muscle memory only making you bounce right back against her. "shi-shit— s'much..!"

"oh, but you're taking me so well, baby," she praised, but it somehow managed to sound dangerous. vicious. "fuck, pussy's swallowing me up whole. look at her, clenchin' round me, doesn't want to let me fucking go."

her last word's punctuated with a sharp smack to your ass, and oh she relishes in the way you sob, knowing that has to leave a painful sting, which she soothes with her palm.

"vi, close...! 'm- 'm close!"

"me too baby, fuck," she groans, adjusting herself just so she can fuck into you better, her cock moving inside you, tilting at an upwards angle that makes her rub right against that little spot she knows turns your brain to mush. "gonna cum for me, yeah? make a mess, c'mon, c'mon..."

your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck, back arching like that of a cat's. if her hand didn't hold you up by the hips, you would've collapsed by now. you're leaking, your cum leaving a creamy white ring around the base of her cock, a vision she wants to be drawn into her grave so she'll never forget it. she groans, her hand lets go of you, letting you lay back down while she supports her weight on her free hand.

"fuck, fuck," she grunts in her own needy way, reminiscent of a dog with how she pants against your back, bending so she could be closer, smelling your hair. shes close, and she only gets closer when she hears your whimpers, hips still smacking against your ass as she chases her own orgasm.

"shit!—"

she finally cums, pulling out just in time to release all on your back, squirting a pretty white string right where your spine sat. she hissed a desperate string of curses, something she does to spare some dignity and not outright moan like a slut (you've told her you like when she moans, but damn it, she's the one with the cock. plus, it's not like you can't hear the whimpers in the back of her throat. not slick, violet).

her face buried into the space between your shoulder blades, she strokes her cock a few more times for good measure, collapsing on top of you when her own legs start shaking and she feels like she’s been milked dry.

you're panting, her weight over your body, sticky skin against sticky skin, sweat and cum mixing. she could care fucking less that your back's covered in her cum, and she's pressing her chest to it. if anything, she likes it. loves how her skin sticks to yours, how she can barely tell where you end and she begins.

"mhm," vi hummed, removing her thumb from your hole, huffing out a little laugh when you whimper. she wraps her big arms around you, hands smoothing over your skin. she leaves a few kisses down the back of your neck, before licking a long line over your spine, scooping up her own cum with her tongue.

"vi—“

before you can ask, she turns you around, kissing you, tongue shoved into your mouth. all you can taste is her, her cum and your sweat and just sex. you have no problem swallowing, much to her pleasure, a dumb, lopsided grin tilting her mouth up.

"let's do that again," she muttered, kissing the slope of her neck. her cock sits heavy on your lower stomach, hard. "wanna cum inside you this time."

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[missdynamighttt]

thinking abt gym rat katsuki whos all tough and bad but hes SO FUCKING CLINGY LIKE 💔💔 he texts you “baby i just finished my work out im sooo sore i need a kiss” or if you’re also at the gym with him, he makes you pause your entire work out so he can hold onto you or watch you when hes doing his reps UGHHHHHHH

katsuki swears he's the toughest, most intimidating dude in the gym — all sharp glares and bulging muscles, sweat dripping down his abs as he absolutely thrives through his sets. everyone around him is too scared to even make eye contact.

but the second he's done? this man turns into the world's clingiest boyfriend.

if you’re not at the gym with him, you’re guaranteed to get a text like:

message from: k <3

"baby i just finished my set im sooo sore"

"need a kiss or im gonna die"

like he wasn't the same man who was just benching insane weights with a terrifying scowl just minutes ago.

and if you're there with him? oh, forget about focusing. he’ll straight-up pause whatever you were doing just so he can latch onto you.

"oi, oi, stop that—" he grumbles, practically manhandling you away. "babe. babe. i'm dying. gimme a kiss. please. hurts so bad."

next thing you know, this big, sweaty man is hugging you like you’re his personal recovery method, arms wrapped tight around your waist with his face buried in your neck.

"katsuki, you literally just deadlifted 400 pounds—"

"yeah and now i’m weak as hell. baby, c'mon. fix me. kiss me."

and if you're doing your reps? ohhh no. he'll straight-up stop you. like, you're mid-set, doing squats or something, and suddenly he's behind you trying to get you to stop.

"baaabe... stop for a sec. needa hold you. missed you."

"katsuki, i’m in the middle of—"

"so? just like... five minutes. i'll spot you after, promise. just lemme have you right now."

and don’t even get started on when you’re using the treadmill or doing cardio. this man will plop himself on the bench in front of you, arms crossed, pouting like a child while he watches you. every few minutes he's like:

"babe. babe. you done yet?"

"katsuki, i have ten more minutes—"

"nooo... can't you like... cut it short or somethin'? wanna go home and cuddle."

and if you try to push through your workout without stopping? he gets dramatic.

"why’re you even workin' out so hard anyway?" he grumbles, draping himself over you between sets. "your body’s already perfect. s'no point when you’re already the hottest thing in this gym."

"oh my god, katsuki—"

"nah, nah, 'm serious. c’mon. just skip that and come home with me. my arms hurt. i need my girl."

the second you both step through your home, katsuki barely lets you put your gym bag down before he's on you.

his big, calloused hands grab your waist, pulling you flush against his still-sweaty, rock-hard body. his lips crash into yours — desperate, hungry — like he's been deprived of you for hours, not mere minutes.

"missed you," he mutters against your mouth, his voice thick with need. "fuckin' missed you the whole time. couldn’t even focus right."

"katsuki," you breathe, trying to catch up with his fervor. "we were literally just together."

"don’t care," he growls, hoisting you up effortlessly. your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, and he carries you toward the bedroom like you weigh nothing.

he's on you like a man starved — like he’s convinced the only thing that’ll mend his sore muscles and aching body is you. his mouth is back on your throat, kissing, biting, groaning against your skin as his hands roam your body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

"fuck, baby," he growls, voice heavy with lust. "you’re so fuckin' pretty. prettiest girl in the whole goddamn world, y'know that?"

his rough, calloused fingers glide down your stomach, over the curve of your waist, his touch lingering. "look at you. my perfect fuckin' girl."

your head spins at his words, and when his mouth finds your chest, he bites down gently on your nipple, groaning at the way your back arches for him.

by the time he lays you down, he's already tugging at your gym shorts. "need you," he groans, his teeth scraping against your jaw. "need my girl. fuckin' hurtin' without you."

you can’t help but laugh breathlessly. "you're acting like you’re about to die—"

"'cause i am," he insists, yanking your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion. "s'posed to be recoverin', damn it. how'm i gonna do that without my girl takin' care of me?"

his gaze drops to your cunny, pupils filled with want. his hands squeeze your thighs as he spreads you open, his mouth watering at the sight of your slickness.

"goddamn," he swears, his voice cracked with need. "look at this perfect little pussy. drippin' f'me already. so fuckin' pretty down here too, baby."

then, his mouth is on you, hot, wet, and starving. his tongue flicks over your clit, drawing a shocked moan from your throat. his strong hands pin your thighs apart, keeping you helpless against his relentless attention.

"fuck, baby," he groans, voice muffled as he buries himself between your legs. "missed this. missed how you taste. god, you're perfect."

your back arches as his tongue moves with purpose, alternating between slow, deliberate licks and quick, needy sucks. he’s not just eating you out — he’s devouring you, like your pleasure is the only thing that'll bring him back to life. every time you squirm or try to pull away, his grip tightens.

his tongue drags up your slit, slow and deliberate, before he sucks your clit into his mouth hard enough to make you cry out.

"there it is," he groans, voice wrecked. "there’s my pretty girl’s voice. fuckin’ love how you sound for me, baby."

your fingers claw at his hair, but he doesn’t let up.

"taste so good, baby. fuck. can’t get enough of you," he’s moaning like he’s the one being pleasured, rutting his hips against the mattress as he devours you. "this sweet little pussy’s all mine, yeah? s'only ever gonna be mine."

"katsuki—" you gasp, already teetering on the edge.

his tongue flicks faster, his grip on your thighs bruising as he practically pulls you into his mouth. "yeah, baby, c'mon. cum f'me. wanna feel you drench my fuckin' face. wanna taste my pretty girl's cum so bad."

and when you finally came — gasping his name, legs trembling — he didn't stop. if anything, he gets more desperate, lapping up every bit of you like a man starved. "fuuuck, yeah—there's my girl. goddamn, baby, you cum so pretty f'me."

but even as you tremble, he doesn’t stop. his tongue keeps working you through your high, licking up every bit of you like he’s trying to consume you whole.

he's crawling up your body, kissing you breathless with your own taste on his tongue.

"gonna make you cum on my cock next, baby. then i'll be all better, swear it," he rasps, his voice strained with need. "ain't done worshippin' you yet. lemme take care of you, yeah?”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ lmao sorry, exam season and shit, hope you guys enjoy clingy (and a lil ooc) katsuki<33 will work on the 4k special soon!!

[cherrygirlfriend]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ so thirsty

pairing: sunshine!reader x bf!rafe synopsis: reader catches rafe working out tags / warnings: smut, handjob (through clothes) wc: 600 a/n; originally posted 10/30/2024

it wasn't fair how just someone's back could look so good while they were literally pulling themselves up and down on a steel pole.

rafe's back muscles basically glistened under the lights of the cameron home gym, your teeth biting down on your lower lip as you watched him do pull-ups, sweat slowly rolling down his back muscles, the urge to press your legs closer together getting stronger and stronger.

the music playing from his speakers was so loud that rafe hadn't been able to hear you come in. that morning you had sent him a picture of yourself wearing a criminally short dress, half your thighs visible, and thanks to his friends showing up at the ass-crack of dawn and demanding he come out with them, he didn't have any time to jerk off, so now he was trying to take his frustration out by working out.

rafe let out a small groan when he pulled his chest up to the pull-up bar, but even that couldn't mute the little whine coming from behind him, and when rafe's feet finally hit the ground, he turned around to see you, a dazed expression on your face.

"you're stalking me now, huh?" he grinned, tilting his head back slightly as he watched you start fiddling more and more, trying to distract yourself from him.

"no. no, i wasn't."

"mmhm. sure you weren't." rafe chuckled, making his way to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you so close to his chest that you could definitely feel the bulge in his shorts, causing your eyes to widen and your cheeks to start warm up like a hot summer day.

you looked down at his chest, sweat slowly dripping down like it was a movie; like this was something he had planned. but what he hadn't planned, or even imagined would happen was you bringing your hand down to the bulge in his shorts, rafe letting out a small whine, one that made you press your legs even closer together.

you continued to palm rafe through his shorts, the blonde throwing his head back in pleasure, trying to figure out just how you'd managed to get such a hold on him; plenty of girls had given him proper handjobs and blowjobs, but there he was, about to blow his load all over his black boxers just because you were palming his cock through the thin fabric of his shorts.

"i-is this alright?" you mumbled softly, causing another groan to escape rafe's lips as his hips bucked against your hand, the man letting out an even louder groan when you moved your hand down his shorts and started properly stroking his cock through his boxers.

"i... i know you're..." rafe let out a loud gasp inbetween his sentence, "you're not experienced, but... fuck, baby, i can't handle this for much longer..." he mumbled, letting out a noise that was between a sigh and a groan.

you kept stroking rafe's cock through his boxers, his blue eyes rolling back while he panted uncontrollably, his hips bucking to the pace of your hand's movements.

"baby, i'm go-"

before rafe could even finish his sentence, his cock started spurting white, hot cum all over his boxers, your hand still stroking him outside the boxers, and even though your soft voice was trying to calm him down, rafe couldn't concentrate on it, all of his focus on the pulsing on his cock as his boxers filled with his own cum.

[hyckstarz]

hi ! can I request mean dom!mark lee with crybaby!reader ?? thankyou so so much <3

i had to take a breather every five seconds of writing this... this request unlocked something in me

fxck your ex! | l.mk

pairing. mean dom!mark lee x afab crybaby!reader

word count. 2.4k

genre. smut

synopsis. mark was sick of it. sick of hearing her go on and on about her boyfriend whose cheating was a sign their short relationship was being thrown to the dogs. he couldn't count the number of times she'd show up at his door in the late hours of the night, crying about a man he could give a damn about. Fuck being a best friend, and fuck your boyfriend as I make his ass your ex.

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, dubcon! oral (m. and f. receiving), use of pet name/praise (baby, good girl, sweetheart, princess), degrading language (whore, slut), choking, rough handling, mention of anal play/licking, cheating, best friends. At this rate, everything is here 💀

A/N: this is probably the smuttiest fic I've written so far, but God was this fun to write. Mean Mark >>>>

Mark hated it. Hated how she went on and on about that fucking asshole. His sunken eye bags weighed heavy under his eyes as he bore holes into the flower pot, her sobs extra loud in his ears from the grogginess of being pulled out of his comfortable slumber. He then glanced at his phone. 3 AM. She came over to his place at ass o'clock in the morning to rant about her boyfriend, Jaehyun, again. His fingers and toes combined weren't enough to count the number of times she'd done this in the past three months.

"I do so much for him and he still goes out to meet that bitch!" She cries into her hands, "Now he's at that party doing God knows what with her."

Mark rubs his temples in frustration. He really tries. Really tries to be a good best friend for her, always lending an ear and shoulder, maybe he'd even consider chopping off those limbs to give to her in hopes of finally getting a good nights rest. But how much did he need to give away when she still goes crawling back to a cheater who couldn't give a damn.

He squints at her, trying to focus his blurry vision at her trembling form. His jaw hardens. Just a few months ago, he'd be a worried, nervous wreck at seeing her cry. Though now, he felt nothing but annoyance, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he mocked her stupidity in his head. But God was it hard to separate whether the frustration was at her dumping her problems on him, or at how sexually frustrated she made him. He couldn't help but sneak a glance at the tantalising strip of her thighs in those shorts, even as his jaw was clenched tight.

"I really love him... I love him so much, why can't he see that?" She choked out another sob, tears staining her skin.

Mark had reached a boiling point. It's like something that held his sanity and kindness snapped. Any ounce of respect he had for her had shattered, replaced by an all-consuming jealous rage.

His hand grabs at her wrist, tearing the palm that covered her face away, "What did you say?" His voice was quiet yet stern, husky from the lack of sleep.

She sniffled, meeting his hard gaze which made her breath catch in her throat, "I... love him."

Her soft eyes did nothing to calm the fire that raged in his chest. How could a sweet girl like her fall in love with that cheating, fucking asshole in a span of three months? Especially when Mark had always been there for her, through thick and thin, even now when she pulled him out of his sleep, selfishly, to talk about her own problems. He felt pathetic. In a way, he was just as pathetic as she was.

Mark sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on her arm which causes her to wince as he leaves red prints along her smooth skin, "M-Mark, you're hurting me-"

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped, yanking her towards him, "I'm tired of your fucking bullshit. If he's such an asshole, break up with him!"

Y/N stumbles over her words, lips opening and closing like a clueless fish at Mark's uncharacteristic outburst, "I- I can't."

Mark scoffs, pushing her back onto the couch as he clamoured on top of her, gripping at her plush thighs that seemed to mold to his touch as she scrambled in surprise, "Why can't you? Does he blackmail you? Did he save your life and you feel like you owe him? What bullshit excuse will you give me this fucking time?"

She's breathing heavily, her tears now dried on her skin as she keeps her eyes on him, "Mark... what are you doing?"

He couldn't play nice when she looked so pretty like this. Mascara running down her pink cheeks, lashes wet and eyes soft as her glossy lips puckered in confusion.

Mark chuckles in disbelief, shaking his head, "Why don't we give that son of a bitch a taste of his own medicine? Maybe then you'd shut those pretty little lips up about another man I could give less of a shit about."

She gasps, pushing at his chest, "W-what? You're crazy!"

Mark laughs, gently threading his fingers through her long hair, "We're both crazy, baby. At least I have a thing called pride."

Y/N swallows thickly, peering up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Mark's fingers brush under the hem of her shorts, his nose nudging the crook of her neck, "Maybe I could fuck a little thing like pride into you... give you another thing to cry about."

In a second, he pins her wrists above her head, trapping her hips between his knees as he pulls back to meet her nervous gaze. She bites her lip, contemplating. She can't believe she's actually considering what her best friend was offering. She thinks back to her earlier argument with Jaehyun and, fuck, would it feel good to get back at him for once.

Even just thinking about her boyfriend has a fresh set of tears glazing over her eyes, "I-"

Mark's voice cuts through hers, "Don't expect me to play nice though, I've been a carpet you've walked all over long enough," he smirks cockily at her hesitation, leaning in to whisper hoarsely in her ear, "Think about it, baby... Think about your precious boyfriend pounding into that slutty chick of his. I mean... he clearly isn't fucking you right now. Couldn't blame him when you whine like a little bitch."

Y/N sobs harder, burying her damp cheeks into the crook of his neck, "O-okay! Just stop... stop talking about him."

Mark grips at her cheeks, forcing her mouth open as he looks down at her with mockery, "Don't wanna face reality, princess? Fine."

His lips meet hers, molding against her soft, tear-stained ones that remained parted from his tight grasp. Her muffled sounds died in his mouth, his tongue swiping at the seam of her lips as it swirled with hers. He could taste the saltiness of her tears mixed with the vanilla flavoured gloss. When he pulled back, she was breathless, eyes blown wide. He loved the way her swollen, slick lips looked — a pretty pink that matched her flushed cheeks.

"You're an asshole," she pouted, her voice a broken whine despite the way she unashamedly rubbed her thighs together.

"Seems like you have a thing for assholes, baby. Admit it, you want to be ruined like a little slut. Who knew the crybaby was so filthy?" Mark pressed his knee between her legs. It was rough and it mixed pleasure with pain that had her gasping.

Y/N let out a choked moan, head nestling back into the cushions as he dragged his knee up and down her clothed clit. She hated that she was enjoying this. She was no better than Jaehyun. Sure, she had thoughts about her attractive best friend before, but he was never really her type. Until now.

"I don't have a thing for assholes," she sent him a glare despite lying through her teeth, "And I'm not a slut."

Mark stares at her for a moment before he lets out an amused laugh, "You're cute, but you're also dead wrong, baby."

He tugs his sweats down, pulling out his throbbing dick as he swirls his tip over her lips, coating them with his precum to wear like lip gloss. She let's out a muffled whimper, eyes pleading. He only scoffs in response, "I'll show you how slutty you really are, and you'll take it like a good girl, won't you?"

Her pussy clenches around nothing at that and Mark wastes no time in lifting her head up from the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. His other hand grabs her cheeks, forcing her mouth open as he stuffs his dick past her lips, stretching her out. She sobs again, fingers digging into his hips as she let's him manhandle her, rutting his dick into her mouth like a fleshlight.

Y/N's moans, whimpers and sobs get lost on his dick. But what really gets her off is how vocal Mark is. His groans and breathy gasps urges her to take more of him, gagging as his tip occasionally hits the back of her throat. Her eyes flick up to see him staring back at her through half-lidded eyes, fucking her into the couch. She'd never given head like this before - sprawled out underneath with her head in his hands to relinquish all control to him.

"Should take a photo of you like this," Mark's thumb tugs her chin up, "send it to that shit-faced ex of yours... let him see what he missed out on."

Mark pulls back and she whines at the loss of her mouth being filled up, "He's not my ex."

He snorts in response, "He will be once I'm done with you."

She swallows thickly, suddenly feeling nervous. Mark had always been the sweet, gentle and respectful best friend. Predictable and safe. But this was a side she never knew existed, especially as he was private about his sex life.

Mark flips her over, letting her chest press against the armrest of the couch. But her words cut through his thoughts, "I'm not breaking up with him, ever."

At that, Mark let's out a bitter laugh, and smacks her ass, hard. The sound is sharp and leaves a tingling sensation behind that causes her to wince, "You will."

At her no, he smacks her again, rubbing the sting with his kneading hands, "You're pathetic."

Without wasting anymore time, he'd tugs her shorts down. His fingers rub along her slit and, with his teeth, he bites at the waistband of her underwear, letting it pull down to her thighs. For years, he had been fantasising about his best friend, even beating himself up about it from the shame. But seeing her bare before him, has him swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sight. His imagination could never do her justice, she was gorgeous.

Mark leans in, dragging his tongue over her asshole, circling and teasing the puckered flesh. He spits on it, watching it glisten obscenely, tilting his head as he kisses and nips at the soft flesh of her ass. She'd never felt so embarrassed, writhing under him. But the only thought that came to mind was how Jaehyun would never.

Mark's fingers probe at the entrance of her pussy, coating the slender digits with her slick before pushing inside; scissoring and curling his fingers inside of her. He groaned at how the tight, wet heat gripped him like a vice, pulsing around his fingers. His other hand tugged her hair back, leaning in to kiss her, licking into her mouth that has her moaning.

Mark nips at her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood and make her wince. He licks at it, cooling the burn before he tugs her hair back harder, peppering sloppy kisses from her jaw down to her collarbone.

She rocks her hips back against his fingers, and Mark can't help but to smirk against her neck, "Desperate already?"

Maybe Mark was right, she didn't have pride and she was as slutty as they came. She nods eagerly, "Please, need you..."

Mark bit on her earlobe, whispering, "Gotta do better than that, sweetheart." His fingers stilled in her, hand pressed to her lower back to keep her from moving.

"I need you, Mark. Please," she begged.

But that wasnt enough, not even close, "Need me to what?"

Her lip quivered, feeling herself losing every inch of her sanity, "Need you to fuck me."

Mark stroked himself, his restraint was slowly slipping too, but he couldnt give her what she wanted just yet, "only if you promise to leave that son of a bitch," he spoke through gritted teeth.

Y/N bit on her bottom lip, pondering, "I will. I'll break up with him. So, please."

Mark scoffs. It didn't take long for her to give in, but he was grateful. Not wanting to waste another second, he pushes into her, hard and fast, not giving her time to adjust. She gasps out loud, clutching onto the armrest with desperation, "fuck! M-Mark-"

He ruts into her, blocking out her cries, "Like I said, you'll take what I give you like the good girl you are. Or do you prefer to be called a whore now that you're sleeping around?"

She whimpers, tears slipping down her cheeks, "Both... I wanna be called both."

Marks hands grab at her hips tightly, pulling her against him, "Knew you were nothing but a whore. Bet you were hoping for this... you were trying to piss me off by showing up at my place every night, huh?"

She shakes her head, clenching around him, "No! No, I wasn't."

His hand slithers under her, rubbing rough and quick circles on her clit, causing her to writhe beneath him, "You wanted me to fuck the outline of your body into my couch. Wanted someone who'd fuck you better than that asshole."

He pulls the length of his cock out of her before slamming back in. Her toes curl and she feels her body growing weaker, her release approaching. Her thoughts were cloudy, drool and tears staining her skin. Each thrust of his hips had her let out choked moans.

"No one is better for you than I am. Not Jaehyun, not even your own fingers. Just me. Only me," he growls, and she swears it was the sexiest sound that ever came out of any man.

"Y-yeah... only you... only you, Mark," she cried, arching her back against him.

"You're mine. All mine. Say it... say it for me, princess," his voice is suddenly soft and breathy. The gentleness returning, as if he really meant it.

Y/N nods, gasping, "I'm yours," she shuddered, her release washing over her as Mark never slowed his pace. She could feel him twitching as he helped her through her release, his own following as he pulled out and came all over her back.

She whined, "Wanted you to cum in me."

Mark chuckled, panting as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her lithe body into his chest, kissing down her neck and shoulder, "Next time, pretty. I'll save that for when you block that bastards number and make you mine for real."

(I promise my next post will be a Haechan fic)

© hyckstarz

[s0dium]

THAT'S A RED FLAG BABY

JJK MEN AND RED FLAGS

A/n: Yessirrrr MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Synopsis: Jujutsu men and their red flag in a relationship or generally and how it shows through when they fuck

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Yuuta Okkatsu, Sukuna Ryomen, Choso

Warnings: Emotional abuse, narcissism, controlling behavior, dub-con, semi-public sex, spitting, fingering, rough sex, male masturbation, degrading, praise, teasing

~

Gojo Satoru- Narcissist  

Since he was a kid, Gojo has been praised and called many things

The honored one, the strongest, gifted and so on

But what people don't see is behind those beautiful sapphire eyes, is a goddamn narcissist through and through

He thinks, no he knows that he is the best, best at everything

This includes what goes on in bed.

And its not only that, the white-haired fox only cares about himself too in the sheets, abusing his unnatural stamina and using you like a cock sleeve for his own taste

At least he can be nice about it sometimes

Gojo is relentless. Its almost like your his personal cock sleeve, his dick shaping your insides and abusing your cervix despite your choked sobs and whines for him to stop, to simply slow down. He holds the back of your head with his hand, allowing you to look down at the way you two are connected; how he retracts his hips until his tip barely pokes out, admiring the slick coating his shaft before slamming back into you again.

"Ahhh~ P-please Satoru please...."

Gojo rolls his eyes and scoffs. Why were the people that surrounded him always so weak? Even you. It's a good thing you feel like heaven he could almost forgive you.

Tears stream down your face. Every time the tip of his dick rams against your cervix a powerful feeling mixed with pain and pleasure that surges through your body making you tremble and shake. You're losing your mind. Everything is so good, and, God, you can't ignore how handsome Gojo looks right now. His white hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, and the muscles of his toned abdomen are flexing and unflexing. He is gorgeous, and, boy, he knows it. Even the way your pussy squeezes and spasms around his dick sends more bolts of electric pleasure to dance through your skim.

"Shhhh, just take it 'kay? You're doing so good for me baby." Gojo coos.

Geto Suguru -Controlling

It starts off small, a comment here and there on your choice of friends, a small criticism on where you were going to spend the evening because wouldn't you have much more fun spending it with him?

Then he's starting to pick out outfits for you. Modest but pretty ones for outside but short skimpy clothes for when you're only with him. It even gets to the point where he is controlling your finances, making you only use his credit card, and its not about the money, you can use as much as you want for all he cares. It's about the control, you being helplessly reliant on him.

And Geto has such an easy time getting away with his controlling tendencies, showering you in praises and sweet nothings about how he just wants to protect you. And the way his violet eyes gleam at you, you almost always believe him.

Don't for a second think that he's insecure because it's far from it. The raven-haired man just wants to have you all to himself, he just wants to protect you from the cruel cruel world out there.

"Didn't I tell you to ask me first if you are going to wear an outfit like that?" Geto whispers in your ear but you can barely focus on his words. The curl of his fingers inside you is just too numbing; the way it hits, prods, and massages a spot deep inside your walls that you can only dream about reaching on your own. Geto's fingers are so thick too, almost filling you up as deliciously as his dick does. Almost. "Mmm- I- I, I didn't-" You gasp for air and try to bury your face into your hands. He currently has you against a wall of some bathroom stall but that fact seemed all but lost to you right now. The pleasure was building in your core and fast. Your legs were starting to shake and a numbing electric feeling had taken course throughout your body. You didn't have to open your eyes to know that Geto was smirking.

Suddenly, Goto curls his fingers in a way that deeply presses your g-spot and the dam of pleasure that had built inside you breaks. Your jaw goes slack and your whole body trembles with electricity.

"Didn't expect for you to crack so easily" he chuckles against your ear, and you collapse into his chest. Yuta Okkatsu- Too obsessed

You would think this is a good thing right? You could never love someone too much, but it was different with Yuuta

Sure you had a crush on him, sure you touched yourself to him plenty of times (which Yuuta knew of very well) so the feelings weren't all that unreciprocated

But theres a line, there's a line that Yuta always seems to cross

From taking pictures of you to texting you constantly, christ you even found your panties in his drawer, yuta love was overwhelming.

Yuuta knows that he should wake you up, but he cant bring himself too right now. You just look so beautiful, so perfect under the soft glow of the night sky. Also, he just feels so good right now, Yuuta can barely think so much as speak. "Mmmm-mmm" he whimpers against the pillow, slowly grinding his clothed erection against your bare leg. How would you react if you knew your boyfriend was humping you while you sleep? Would you push him away? No no you're too kind for that, you would probably help him, probably pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings until he finished. Yes, if he knew for a fact that you'd help him when you wake up, what's stopping you from helping you now? Careful not to wake you up, he picks up your hand. It's so small compared to his but wraps so well around his throbbing member. He glides your thumb across his red tip to collect the precum before slowly sliding your hand up and down. The pleasure is immediate. It makes him bury his face into your neck to to press sloppy, wet, hot, and bitten kisses along your skin.

Sukuna Ryomen- Sadist

Where to start with Sukuna. Sukuna is the red flag.

Actually, even that is a complete understatement. Sukuna is straight-up cruel, rather he is a sadist through and through.

Manipulation, degrading, humiliation....although he wouldn't physically abuse you, with emotional abuse he won't hesitate.

You expect compassion, sympathy, and kindness from him? Fat chance. It is hard to see Sukuna being in any relationship at all.

Sukuna certainly doesn't love you, but he sure does love the sex though

Like any good sadist, his sexual pleasure derives from your physical or emotional suffering.

"Aw look at you, fucked you dumb did I?" Sukuna chuckles. A tattooed hand snakes between to your cunt, lightly rubbing your clit before delivering a sharp slap to the nerve.

Your eyes widen and your hips instantly buck up, unintentionally sending his dick deeper into you. The position he has you in is brutal. Both of your legs are thrown over Sukuna's shoulders and pressed against your chest, effectively folding you in half. "Open ya mouth" He orders, but you are too lost in the pleasure that is blooming in your stomach, the pleasure that is making your cunt flutter and squeeze desperately around his fat cock. "I said open." Sukuna delivers a particularly harsh thrust before stilling inside you; keeping the tip of his dick smushed against your cervix. The sudden movement snaps you out of your haze and you obediently widen your mouth letting your tongue hang out. Sukuna lets a glob of spit fall from his lips onto your awaiting tongue. You don't need to be told to swallow, you do so on habit, giving him a soft smile as you do so.

"Fuck, ya so perfect, such a good girl."

Choso- Jealous 

Choso is the type of man who keeps to himself. The type of man to blend in a group or fade into the background.

But that doesn't mean he notices things. In fact, he notices things a bit too well.

Was that your coworker who touched your shoulder? You say that he is just a friend but who should a friend be able to touch you so easily?

He won't hesitate to bring up what he notices either, he says he's not accusing you of anything, that he trusts you, but he totally is.

He hates it when people get to close to his brothers so it posits that he loathes it when it comes to his lover.

How did you get here? How did an argument turn into this?

You want to scream, you want to thrash and tell Choso that he's got it all wrong, that you didn't mean to see your guy friend when you went out to have lunch. It was just a harmless bump-in that turned into a long conversation. Thats it. But the feeling of Choso's dick filling you up, his harsh thrusts and the fucking delicious friction of the drag, Jesus, it's just- it's just so good your mind that your mind is a white sheet.

You are on all fours but you don't know how much longer you can keep the position up. Not with the way he's ramming your pussy from behind.

“You are mine," he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal is brutal. "Mine," he swears, and he pulls you up so your back is pressed against him and you are upright. Choso doesn’t slow his movement though, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing up and down from the harshness of it all.

“You wanna cum? Good, cum."

[rafeysbunny]

rafe saves you from drowning

a/n. based on this ask.

"she can't swim, top!" by the time sarah shouts at him, it's already too late.

topper has thrown you inside the cameron's pool, despite how desperately you were squirming in his arms while you begged him to put you down, really hoping he wouldn't be and ass just for once. unfortunately, the guy seemingly cannot stop being a dickhead.

you're panicking, kicking and flailing your arms in the deep end of the pool to try and stay afloat, but there's no use. you struggle to keep your head from sinking under the water, taking quick breaths whenever you are on the surface, panic clear on your face. but then you swallow some water, and as you start coughing strongly, trying to swim gets even harder

you can't avoid sinking for much longer. and when you submerge, you can't physically bring yourself back to surface anymore.

sarah's scream has silenced everyone's laughter, but no one moves a finger to help you —even though you're obviously drowning in there. no one, except rafe cameron, who doesn't even hesitate to dive into the water so he can take you out. he reaches you just in time, grabbing you tightly and pulling you to the edge; his heart is racing as he does so.

still coughing and sputtering, you look up at him, and he can see the exact moment in which your panicked expression softens in a mix of relief and gratitude.

topper approaches the two of you quickly, worried, while everyone whispers around you, looking at you like you're some kind of freak show, some of them even recording the whole thing —are they for real right now? you almost died.

"stay away from her, topper," rafe snaps at him, and the guy immediately stops on his tracks, clearly knowing he's fucked up. "the rest of you, get the fuck outta my house!"

you're shocked.

rafe doesn't pay attention to anyone but you as he helps you stand up carefully, his arm around your waist at all times. your clothes are completely soaked through, as well as your hair, and you shiver a little at the cool summer breeze.

"let's get you some clean clothes, yeah?"

when he talks to you, his voice is completely opposite to the gruff tone he used before; now it's sweet and caring. you nod in response, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders in a protective manner while he guides you inside the house. he doesn't seem to care that he's dripping too, his entire focus put on you.

rafe takes you to his room and he closes the door behind him so no one bothers you. he gently hands you a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, which smell so, so good —just like him, and then he takes you to his private bathroom.

"you can use the shower if you want," he says, opening some drawers to grab clean towels for you. when you simply stay silent, looking at him like a fool, he adds, "are you okay, y/n?"

you hesitate, fidgeting nervously, before you finally gather the courage to speak, "why are you doing this?"

"what?" he seems a little confused by your question.

"why are you, uhm, helping me?" you ask, staring at him as he drops the towels on top of the sink to go start the shower for you.

when the water's running, he turns around to face you, his gaze so intense that you swear it's piercing holes right through you.

"isn't it obvious?" he smirks; a little lopsided smirk that has a lot of butterflies fluttering around in your belly. "i like you, silly."

more.

[shouyuus]

adding onto the vi sleeps shirtless req only now it's college roommatevi! who wakes up to you pounding at her door at fuck-crack of dawn (or midday, if she went out the night before) and who stumbles out of bed, still mostly asleep and wearing only a ratty pair of boxers, to shutyouup answer

(you weren't made for blood pressures this high, and it's only like 8 AM)

xx vi sleeps shirtless truther

18+, no sex, just a nip-mention

JUST. college roommate!vi answering the door, squinty-eyed, her hair an absolute menace, sticking up in every direction, you standing there, wanting to be pissed at her bc its like... the 5th time she's used your stainless steel pot without cleaning it correctly and just leaving it in the sink but -- holy shit -- she's in a pair of old, bright red, calvin klein boxer briefs and nothing else, grumbling at you, the sunrise peaking over her shoulder, casting her in this golden, ethereal glow like --

"what, cupcake?" and her voice is gravely with sleep but you really can't focus on anything else bc... did you even know her nipples were pieced? you might've had an inkling bc she has some strange aversion to ever wearing proper bras so you've kinda maybe noticed the shape of them through all her tanktops and band tee's but -- now they're just right there --

"uh -- uhm --" you stutter, your brain short-circuiting way harder than you'd imagined, the dirty pot still in your hand, though it's held slack at your side bc really -- what the fuck are you supposed to say to this?

vi quirks an eyebrow, clearly confused and more than a little annoyed. she glances down at her chest, rolling her eyes. on any other day, she might've teased you, but she'd had a really late night last night and its one of the few days she doesn't have morning practice so she really doesn't appreciate you cutting into her sleep.

"c'mon princess, it's not like you haven't got a pair yourself," she says, shifting her weight from one leg to another, making her tits bounce slightly. you jerk your eyes away, cheeks going so hot you think you might get 3rd degree burns.

"just --" you cast your eyes up towards... anywhere but vi's tits, "the -- do you --" you sputter, grasping for a coherent sentence. but for some stupid reason, the only thing you can come up with is "i was... gonna make breakfast. d-did you want anything?"

vi stares, half-incredulous, half-confused.

"breakfast?" she glances at the large alarm clock sitting atop her half-opened drawers. it blinks a steady 7:48AM at her in dull red LED lights.

"nevermind -- i -- it was stupid. sorry for waking you --" you turn on your heels, feeling the room closing in around you, your fingers shaking around the pot handle.

"jesus, princess -- unless you're offering up yourself on a silver platter, don't ever wake me up at 7am again for fuckin' breakfast --"

vi's door clicks closed but you're left peering over your shoulder, eyes wide as dinner plates. because did she say what you think she did?

after a few solid seconds on blinking at her closed door, you scurry away to the kitchen to soak the stainless steel with bar keeper's friend, frowning down at the foamy mess in the kitchen sink, doing everything you can not to think about what it might look like if you did offer yourself to vi for breakfast.

you sigh, blowing a strand of hair from your face, frowning down at the stainless steel pot.

maybe next time.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

captive

words: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dark!rafe but he has soft moments hes trying, drugged!reader, kidnapping, DUB/NONCON, male receiving oral, female receiving oral, biting, nipple play, p in v sex, unprotected sex, anal sex, forced drug intake, snorting cocaine, smoking weed, poppers, mentions of pregnancy

“nooo.” you moan out, eyelids blinking heavily as you stare at the white powder along rafes finger. “im already-”

“no.” rafe says harshly, cutting off your protests. “i saw the way you were looking at the door. are you trying to leave me?”

“rafe-” you plead, but then his hand clamps harshly over your mouth, so tight no air could possibly get in. his finger presses against your nose, furious eyes watching yours as he waits for you to give up and inhale.

you feel dizzy, dizzy from the drugs already in your system and the lack of oxygen as you finally inhale, taking in the sweet air along with the drugs.

“that's it.” rafe pulls his hand away as you take in deep gulps of oxygen, scooping you up effortlessly as you recover and placing you down on the bed.

rafe keeps one eye on you as he prepares the room for nighttime, shutting the curtains and switching on lamps to bathe the room in soft light. he grabs your pajamas from the dresser, knowing he's just going to tear them off you later.

rafes foot falls are soft against the lush rug as he heads back over to the bed. “baby.” he says harshly when he sees your eyes are closed, tapping your cheek with increased hardness until your eyes open.

“im so tired.” you complain. “took too much.”

rafe just sighs. it's no more than he's given you on other days. the drugs keep you pliable, harmless, unable to escape. 

rafe can't let you leave him. he knows it's wrong, but he just needs to keep you fucked up enough until you forget that you want to leave in the first place. forget that your sweet boyfriend quickly turned evil when you told him you were leaving for college.

“stay awake, bunny.” rafe says. “it's what you get for trying to leave me.”

“the door is locked anyways.” you mumble. “even if i was looking at it i couldn't have left.”

you managed one time to twist the doorknob. to hear and feel the lock stop you. all your drugged up mind could manage was to turn back and lie in bed.

“do you want a little bedtime snack?” rafe asks, watching as you perk up, nodding enthusiastically.

rafe moves your body, manipulates it to the position he wants as you're laid sideways on the bed, head tipped back over the edge.

“dick first then ill get you a different snack.” rafe says, watching your eyes flutter in attempt to stay open as he tugs at his zipper, undoing his shorts and pushing them down along with his underwear in one quick movement.

“i can't.” you reach out and grip rafes thighs, head barely able to hold up as you look in his eyes with pleading in yours. “ill choke. im too-”

rafes hips plunge forward, pressing the length of his cock all down your face as your head falls, the next thrust sinking into your mouth as you resign to your task.

you focus on breathing through your nose as his cock repeatedly enters your mouth, somehow able to find enough compassion in himself to slowly build up his thrusts so he's not immediately down your throat.

“that's a good girl.” rafe coos, the praise making your head spin as you keep your hands gripped on his thighs.

rafes hands reach for your cheeks, pressing them together as he presses fully in now with every thrust, watching his cock bulge against your throat.

rafe lets out loud moans, unashamed of his vocality. it's not like you have enough mentality to judge him for it, especially not with the wet and choking sounds coming from you.

rafe does keep one eye on your chest. watching your heartbeat through the low cut shirt he put you in this morning. just in case. you mean far too much to rafe to let anything truly happen to you, even if it means him keeping you high as kite and locked away in his bedroom.

“close baby.” rafe tells you. he's never able to hold himself back for long when he gets you in a position like this. “so tight for me.”

rafe is fucking your mouth with as much furosity as he does your pussy, not worried about your teeth possibly scraping, knowing he's taught you well enough that they're covered with your tongue and lips. even though you've been his captive for almost a month now, that doesn't change the fact that you'd never want to hurt rafe.

rafe lets out a string of harsh curses and the feel of his cock swelling in your mouth is all you need to know he's about to cum.

you move one hand that's on his muscular thigh to his balls, fondling them the best you can. it's the final touch rafe needs as he shouts out your name, hips pressing forward as he cums deep down your throat, watching the way his cock twitches and pours out semen under the thin layer of your skin.

“shit!” rafe curses loudly, hand moving to squeeze your throat, giving the extra tightness he needs for one last pump of cum inside of you before he pulls out.

you quickly turn over, flipping onto your stomach as you cough and sputter, deep wheezing breaths filling your lungs fully.

“oh, my good girl.” rafe helps you to lay back properly on the bed, giving you soft kisses along your cheeks and forehead as you recover.

his soft side is always a surprise, in so much contrast to how he normally treats you. he just wants you to stay good and pliable all the time, tired of when you act out or defy him.

“now time for that snack, yeah?” rafe says. 

he leaves the room, and you listen for that telltale sound of him locking the door behind him, but it doesn't come. you blink harshly, trying to force yourself to stand, to let your legs carry you out, but your stomach growls, knowing rafe will keep you well fed, and your pussy clenches, knowing rafe will fill it later, and you stay laid on the bed.

rafe enters moments later with a pleased look on his face. it may have been only minutes, and you may have been strung out, but he was just able to leave the door unlocked and came back to find you in the exact same position he left you in.

“crackers?” rafe offers you, helping you sit up and schooch back to lean against the headboard.

you take the bowl as rafe checks your water bottle is still full before standing up and locking the door, slipping the key into his pocket. he made sure to get double side locks, reinforced to keep you secured.

“im going to take a quick shower.” rafe says, leaving you to finish the snack on your own. you eat quickly, munching down the food to satisfy your drug addled mind.

you set the bowl down on your nightstand when you're done, eyes turning to the pajamas laid against the bench at the end of the bed, knowing rafe intends to dress you himself when he gets back. 

he's never able to control himself when he sees you naked. it's why every time after he's finished putting your clothes on that he has to rip them right back off. why every time he helps you bathe or shower that he ends up fucking you all wet. every time your shirt slips up your stomach or shorts ride too short and you're unable to fix it in your state, that rafe ends up getting you naked and worshiping your body.

“y/n.” rafe calls your attention up to him as your eyes refocus, having drifted off at some point. rafe is standing in just a towel, wrapped snuggly across his waist.

“do you need another hit?” he questions, not wanting you to fall asleep, he likes when you're awake while he takes you, so he can see the fire behind your eyes. “or a joint?”

“yeah.” you nod. “a joint.”

you hope rafe will smoke it with you. you like when rafe gets high. his feral movements slow down, his thrusts become softer and kisses tamer.

rafe heads over to the locked cabinet, putting in the code before opening it up and grabbing a few things out. you watch with half horror and half fascination as rafes long slender fingers roll the joint before lighting it, the lighter briefly brightening the room in orange haze.

“here ya go.” rafe sticks one end between your lips, allowing you to inhale deeply. rafe is pleased, already such a quick turn around from having to force you less than an hour ago to snort.

“you're getting so obedient.” rafe says softly, wishing he could get you to be obedient at all times and not just when you're fucked up. then maybe he can let you out of the room, slowly expand your privileges.

“mhm.” you hum, closing your eyes as you lean forward and inhale deeply again. you turn your head to the side to blow out the smoke, pushing it away from rafe.

you keep huffing and exhaling until the room smells like weed. you're not sure what the combination of drugs in your system does to you, but it has you looking at rafe with softer eyes, forgetting that he's the one forcing you to snort various powders and pop pulls, just thinking about him as the one who brings you snacks and cuddles you.

“pajamas?” you ask rafe once the joint it almost gone, watching him head to the bathroom to damp it out in some water and toss it.

“yeah.” rafe grabs your pajamas, a very immodest and revealing matching set of shorts and a tank top.

you stay slack against the bed, letting rafe pull off your t-shirt and undo your bra, his eyes staying on your tits as he tosses your clothes into the hamper. he doesn't touch them yet, despite his fingers twitching with need.

he moves onto your pants yet, tugging your yoga pants off and discarding them so you're in just your underwear.

“my favorite pair.” rafe says softly, though really any of your thongs are his favorite. his hands push your thighs open and you don't resist when his finger presses against your core and swipes up, putting pressure right on your clit.

you let out a moan as your back arches, but as quickly as rafe began touching you, he stops, and then pulls your shorts up your legs.

“thank you.” you reach your arms up, body calling out to rafe, craving him. rafe scoops you up into his lap, snuggling his nose into your neck.

“just relax.” rafe says, hands petting over your body until one inevitably slips between your thighs. he keeps his hands away from your core, teasing you with soft strokes.

rafes thumb and pointer finger suddenly pinch together with your flesh caught inside, but you barely even react to the sudden burst of pain. it's how rafe can tell you're truly ready for him.

“gonna lay you back.” rafe narrates as he places you on the bed, standing over you while you stare up at him, waiting for what the first strike is going to be. what area of your body he's going to pounce on first.

it starts with tearing your shorts down, bearing your pussy to him yet again. a pleased smile stretches across rafes features when he sees you're already wet from his teasing.

“wanna taste you.” rafe lays himself down on the bed, still only covered in the towel, hair slightly damp that you'd want to run your fingers through if your arms weren't noodles.

rafe doesn't often eat you out. in a way, it feels like a reward as he leans in, mouth covering your clit. his tongue pokes out, tapping at your clit as you let out soft moans and mewls.

“so yummy.” rafe praises you, mouth sinking to your entrance, slurping at the juices built up there.

his little fuck kitten, his baby, his captive and his girlfriend, even if you did attempt to break up with him. he's never let you truly lose the title.

rafe doesn't stay laid on his stomach for long. while his incessantly licking through your folds feels good, it doesn't suit him anymore once your taste has already coated his tongue.

rafes kisses lead up your stomach, mouth pressing against your skin as his head pushes up your shirt until it's barely covering your chest. his hands push the loose tank top the rest of the way off your body.

rafe presses kisses to each of your nipples, watching them bloom and perk up right before his eyes. his smile grows as he widens his teeth and sinks them around your nipple, biting down before giving a hearty tug that has you crying out the most you can, a strangled mix between a moan and a cry.

rafe repeats the same bite and pull on the other side, then back and forth, then back and forth again, until your high dulls it out and you don't even react.

once your eyebrow doesn't even twitch in pain, rafe moves on, his hands pushing your thighs apart again as he kneels between them on the bed, tugging at the white towel as it falls away to reveal his hard cock.

“you're being so docile for me today.” rafe says like it's supposed to be praise, even though a sick feeling twists in your gut. “how about i try out your other hole today?”

your eyes widen and you try to sit up slightly. “i-”

“yeah, i think i will try it.” rafe says with a grin, reaching over to the bedside table and scrounging through the drawer until he finds the little bottle he's looking for.

rafe considers strapping you down to help you keep your legs open, but he likes the idea of you being unrestricted by bonds and rather too blissed out to move.

“turn over for me.” rafe commands, helping you flip onto your stomach. rafe grips your ass in his hands, massaging your plump flesh and watching it jiggle before he tugs your hips upward into the air.

he manages to get you to balance somewhat as he spreads your cheeks apart, looking at your little puckered hole just waiting to squeeze around his cock.

rafe takes the bottle of poppers and unwinds them, pressing them towards your face as he waits for you to inhale. you don't try to resist this time, knowing the drugs will only relax your muscles more and make things more pleasurable, even if the smell is so strong it causes your entire body to jolt.

rafe grunts out some praise that you barely hear or take in as he screws the bottle closed and lines up his cock with your entrance.

he's able to push in easily, knowing the drugs will only keep you open and relaxed for a few minutes. 

rafe presses his hips right into your bum, lodging himself as deep as he can inside of you. “knew your ass would feel great.” he says, tapping your bum in spankings that you barely register.

rafe begins to move, his strokes deep and slow as he fucks you. his hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you held up just how he wants you.

you let out a strangled noise as the muscle relaxers wear off, your previous untouched hole clenching tightly around rafes length.

rafe curses harshly as you tighten around him, almost squeezing so intensely that its not pleasurable, but he's determined to work you through it.

he slowly increases the rhythm of his hips fucking into you, building up until he's fucking you with the furosity that he does your pussy on a nightly basis.

“jesus.” rafe grunts out, listening to your tiny whimpers and moans that you can't help releasing. “do you like this baby?”

you try to open your mouth to answer, but all you do is allow drool to slide down your chin, no words actually coming out. you're not sure if you like it, or it the drugs are just dulling out the pain and leaving the pleasure.

“where do you want me to cum though bunny?” rafe asks, bending down to speak into your ear. “surely you want me to fuck your pussy, yeah? get you pregnant?”

there's no way a pregnancy would ever last with the amount of drugs consistently flooding your system, but rafe likes to think about it. another way to get you to stay, another reason to never leave him.

you manage to shake your head in some way that forms a nod. rafe quickly switches holes like it's nothing, pushing into your pussy and keeping the exact same pace in your cunt that he did your ass.

“too much?” rafe asks, hoping you say yes, his smile stretching when you give the vague halfish nod again. you're so beyond overwhelmed that you still haven't shut your mouth, a wet spot of drool forming on the bedsheets to add to the wet spot from your dripping pussy.

rafe takes the bottle of poppers again, holding it to your nose. you don't even realize that he's done it until the smell hits your nose and your body jolts.

rafe chuckles at your reaction, forcing two fingers into your asshole, pumping them in contrast to the timing of his hips pushing forward, causing even more stimulation to flood your senses.

“i bet if i just tap your clit you'd cum, huh?” rafe questions.

it's a juggle to overstimulate you from every angle, but rafe manages to reach down with his other hand, but instead of tapping it like he said, he pinches your bud, holding it tightly between your fingertips as you let out a squeal.

“knew it.” rafe chuckles as he feels you pussy pulsate around him, squeezing and fluttering as your orgasm suddenly hits, juices flooding and soaking rafe and the bedsheets below you as your pussy gushes.

rafe regrets pulling out of your other hole as it clenches down on his fingers, but he's satisfied with shoving deep inside of you and pumping you full of his cum.

rafe let's out a moan that sounds almost like your name, but the sudden force of your orgasm has caused your ears to stop working along with seemingly every other part of your body.

rafe pulls out and lets you slump onto your side. he gives you a quick check to make sure you're still breathing before heading back to the bathroom to clean himself off. 

he doesn't bother with you, knowing you'll sleep off your high and walk up after noon to clean yourself and restart the cycle all over again.

“can't wait to do that again tomorrow baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss your lips despite them still being slackened apart.

rafe pulls you into him as he lays under the covers, feeling your naked bodies touching, skin to skin.

“goodnight.” rafe whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you try to stay awake. maybe you can get away when he goes to sleep, maybe, maybe, maybe, but your head spins and eyes droop closed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[prael]

Integrity

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

Happy Hanni Day!

Masterlist word count: 6,048 Kofi(donations/commissions)

It's a really long way to travel, and doubly so when you get fuck all from it. It's not like you were after anything ground-breaking—it's just a fashion show, after all.

It's about as close as you get to 'phoning it in' as a journalist. A few copy-and-paste interviews to accompany some snapshots of the season's latest designs. A couple hundred words, cut and run. Who wore what dress and who wore it the tightest. You could probably type most of it out on the plane without ever leaving your seat, and the public will still eat it up.

Somewhere over Austria, you mulled over that very fact.

Four days later, somewhere over Hungary, you're scrambling to do exactly that.

The whole thing is going fine. Fine, right up until it isn't. Maybe it's the sound of your fingers on the keys or the pocket of air that rocked the plane in that familiar gut-wrenching way, but her eyes are opening slowly. She's mouthing something, her fingers reaching around behind her, under the thin layer of blankets she is enveloped in.

"Are we there yet?" she murmurs, fishing her phone out of her blanket, sleepiness and all.

"Not even close," you say as flatly as you can, returning to a few words you'd been rolling over in your head for the better part of thirty minutes.

"What are you writing about?" She asks from down on her fully reclined seat that's moonlighting as a bed.

"You," you say with a small laugh, not looking away from your laptop.

"What about me?" Hanni's phone lights up, cutting through the darkness and finally making her face visible. The cabin is in full black-out since it's the middle of the night, and the dividers in first-class keep the two of you isolated.

"Your clothes, mostly. Generic fashion show stuff. Doesn't really matter. I put the names Gucci and Hanni Pham in an article and it sells itself. Instant clicks. S'like... two baits for one fish."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably is," you reply, knowing full well that there's little to be proud of in here. It's all surface level after all, since adding the things you know now might raise a few eyebrows. All the investigative journalism you've done over the past few days isn't exactly something you can write about. Though you can't deny it, an article about the beauty mark right below her waistline would probably send the masses into a frenzy.

You can hear her tapping on her screen a few more times, and with the silence in the first-class cabin at night, you find yourself focusing on those sounds more than your writing. Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Sigh. Tap. Tap.

"What is it?"

"Can't sleep," comes her whispered reply as she pushes herself up with that strange grunt you often hear her make, propping her pillow against the bulkhead and stretching out.

"Drugs not working?"

She shakes her head. "Not doing much."

"If my typing is too loud I can stop—"

"No, you focus. I'll find something to keep myself distracted." She locks her phone again and disappears into the darkness again, her soft breathing almost inaudible. Minutes go by. You manage a full two paragraphs before hearing her moving in the darkness again.

"Hanni?"

"Shh."

The slow shifting goes on for another few seconds, and in the darkness, you can make out the movement of her blanket as she slides off the chair down to your feet. What hits you next is her fingers reaching into your waistband.

"Hann—"

"Quiet," she whispers back. You quickly pick up the laptop from resting on your lap before her attempts to undress you can send it crashing to the floor. You're quick to place it on her seat and close its cover, out of her reach just in time before she slides your pants down.

She doesn't say anything, just lets you lay there in silence as her fingers guide you into her mouth. It is almost unnerving how used to it you have become in such a short time—how easy it has become for you, a supposed professional, to mix business and pleasure to this degree.

Hanni goes on unperturbed, wetting you between plump lips that trail up and down your length.

There is nothing you can do at this point but give in and just throw your head back. You grow harder under her touch and her tongue and judging by the way she grows more aggressive with her movements, Hanni is starting to enjoy herself as well. You can't quite make out her face, but you already know the look she's wearing. Can practically see it in your mind's eye; the look of wide-eyed desire as she takes you further in, lips rounding out over teeth as she welcomes every inch you give her until her cheeks cave in from sucking.

It's fucking burned into your brain. You've seen it so much, among so many other filthy expressions, you aren't sure if you could ever forget it.

Your hand reaches down blindly in the darkness until it finds the back of her head. The mere fact that the both of you are sitting on this plane hundreds of miles above the ground is instantly forgotten, fading out from consciousness and sense as she holds on, massaging your balls with one hand.

You let yourself lay there like this, fingers tangled in her hair, cock buried in her mouth. The thought of pulling her up and reciprocating is never far from your mind, but her grip on your hips is certain. This is all her right now. She's in charge.

She does not lack the pace to prove it.

Her head bobs up and down in the dark, tongue guiding you further in with every motion, lips slipping further down along your shaft, saliva pooling at your base. Her humming is growing—you can't hear it, but you can feel it. It resonates all the way through you, down the aching hardness she keeps stroking with her tongue, and even further to fuel that tension building in your lower stomach.

"Holy fuck," you curse under your breath, voice catching in your throat, lost in the motion of the plane's droning vibrations and her eager motions.

She pops you from her mouth, stroking your cock with a twist of a wrist and something she is doing with her tongue at the tip. As your eyes begin to adjust, you can see that spit has mixed with precum, dribbling down and over the back of her knuckles. It's lewd and over the top and everything that Hanni Pham, an innocent idol, pretends not to be.

"What? You want me to stop?"

"Fuck no," you whisper back, heart pumping in your ears. The feeling of her strokes, suddenly more controlled and tense without the benefit of her mouth is as jarring as it is fleeting.

"Didn't think so." With that, she brings her head back down to take you in her mouth again, hot breaths hitting the spit-slick surface of your dick. It's dirty and clumsy, messy and wet, and each time she swallows you, your entire body shudders with pleasure, coiling every muscle and feeling it climb upward until your stomach goes tight and you find yourself pushing her down, further, faster, until she is sucking what little air she has.

You are wound tight. Agonising, torturous tension pulling ever outward from your centre with each motion she makes. Every twitch of her tongue—fuck, does she work her tongue—spurs some sort of response down to the very tips of your toes.

It's a complete relapse. Back to four days ago, in the back of the car, with nothing but a divider between you and the driver. Cumming inside Hanni's pretty mouth and feeling her swallow every bit, then going on like nothing happened.

-

There's usually not a lot of enthusiasm for an interview. You have spent the whole morning being shrugged off by star after star after star. To them, they're there to look pretty. To show face and represent their brands. Answers are pre-written garbage to be regurgitated over and over like everyone is sharing the same stupid fucking tongue.

Then there's little miss backless-top. Denim jeans and a shirt with frills that barely keeps her modesty. Big, brown eyes and a smile that fills her whole face. Add her vibrance and energy and she really gets your journalistic gears turning. There's something fresh about her. How when you approach her, she engages you in a conversation like you're an actual person and not just some cardboard cut-out of a journalist.

Hanni Pham knows her shit. It's part of the training. She handles media with all the grace of someone born to do it and the energy of someone who loves it. So not only does she give you answers there and then, but when you make the request to sit down with her later and get all you need to do a whole feature on her, she's quickly turning to the powers that be to make it happen.

She should have been a ten-minute addendum. An hourglass figure strutting and posing and laughing her pretty little ass off for cameras for the adoring public. Instead, Hanni fucking Pham, you've got her. For hours.

So you sit down in a quiet little room you managed to reserve with the company card, and she's right across from you, with two glasses of water and a notepad on a table in an otherwise empty room.

"Is this going to be recorded?" She asks first, though looks sceptical and unprepared.

"Normally, yes. But I would prefer us to be a little more comfortable. I'm going to take notes, that's all."

"I like that." She claps, like there's an imaginary audience watching, even if you're the only one there. "So, what are we covering?"

"Everything. To start," you shift a little closer to the table. "Think of this being more about you rather than what you're wearing."

She gives you a little bit of a quizzical look.

"I know. Fashion show. Just, work with me here. The Gucci brand gets the clicks, I want to introduce those clickers to the girl wearing the clothes."

Hanni nods, her eyes light up a little and you can't help but notice how she is really fucking adorable. Up close, she's even prettier. It throws you off for a second as you bring up the notepad. The blank pages stare up at you—mock you. Where do you even begin?

"We met briefly earlier, and you're standing alongside stars from many industries and the lead designer at Gucci."

"Yes," she smiles politely. "That was exciting. Kind of surreal, really."

"So what does it take to be who you are? A girl of Vietnamese blood, born in Melbourne, working in South Korea and travelling to Europe for fashion shows?"

"Uhm, like, honestly?" She shifts in her seat. "Really a lot of hard work. Endless and stressful and never-ending hard work. You know? From singing and dancing, to the language lessons and the dieting and working out. It needs hard work and, well, a lot of luck too."

"You make your own luck." You nod, before jotting down into your notepad.

She tilts her head in response. "I suppose so. That's very quotable if you want. I made my own luck by working hard."

"And yet you're still young, what, turning twenty?"

"Just." Hanni nods.

"Barely twenty and making waves. Do you still feel like you have so much more to give?"

"Oh fuck yeah," she quickly confirms. "Wait, don't write that down."

"Oh... fuck... yeah." You sound out the words as you pretend to write them in the notepad.

"Hey!" Hanni laughs, and it's beautiful. It fills the room and just makes her glow with warmth. "Cut me some slack."

"Alright. Alright. So is this what you envisioned? Being twenty and being here?"

"You mean in this room with you?"

You laugh too. The jokes come so naturally to her.

"I'm happy where I am, it really was always my dream."

"To be in this room with me?"

"Fuck you," she laughs. "But, in a way, yes. I wouldn't be here if I didn't achieve my dream, would I?"

"That's very true. Then what is next for you?"

"There's no end goal." Hanni tilts her head. You follow her hand as it passes through her hair. She's studying you just like you are studying her. "I don't think I'll ever sit back and say 'that's enough.' That's not who I am."

"Ambitious. The question now is what are you chasing?"

"Is that you asking or the article?"

"Both," you say with a wry smile.

"For the article: I want to tour the world, keep improving and working hard. Release more music."

You scribble down a few notes and then click the top of the pen. "And off the record?"

"To spend a little more time focusing on myself. Time is fleeting. I should try and enjoy it while it lasts."

"You're young, pretty and successful. You have plenty of opportunity to do just that."

"Is that flirting?" she jokes, cocking her brow with a seductive smile.

"I'm just stating facts. I'm married to the truth." You gesture to your notepad. "So let's get back on the record, shall we?"

-

One delayed layover later and you're back in the air, and after your brief break to let Hanni drain you into her throat, you managed to get back to finishing up the article, so for the final stretch, the two of you are lying together in one of the first-class beds, and the conversation kept going.

"How are you single?" she's asking, while you're spooning her.

"Mostly because of my job. Definitely the baggage and constant travelling. Takes a special woman to not hate this."

"Sounds like idol life. I know so many idols who try to date but you just never have the time to see each other. We tour constantly and are always on the road. A long day of practising and comeback planning and comeback filming and comeback rehearsing, and more hours of sleep and eating to prep for the next comeback, you're always too exhausted."

"Such a shame." You lower the blanket that's covering her bare chest. Her breasts fill your palm as you caress them, gently. "A pretty thing like you deserves so much better than empty hotel rooms."

"Flirt," she playfully chastises, pressing her ass to your crotch before sliding forward to give you some friction, grinning at you over her shoulder. "These past few days, all the sex, I'd be lying if I said I couldn't get used to this."

It's a sentiment so heavily shared, that even now you're thinking about how easy it would be to pin her onto her back and mount her. It isn't easy to shake the thought when her body is practically inviting you inside her.

You're asking instead, still exploring her naked form, "How do you overcome the needs?"

"Other ways..." Hanni replies through closed eyes, her cheeks blushing. "Toys. Helps and hurts. They're no real substitute."

You run your hand over her toned stomach, heading between her thighs and gently prying them open. And there she is. Right fucking there, wet and waiting for you. Your finger glides over her lips and runs the full length of her, and she strains to contain a gentle moan. The problem is, Hanni is really fucking loud, and the walls of this pod are paper thin.

"I want you again," she whispers, and it's a real fucking dilemma.

She guides your cock through the folds of her pussy and leans back her head as she takes it. Fuck, it feels so good being back inside her. Wet and tight and made to grip. A small whimper escapes her when you are in deep, which she tries to swallow.

"You gotta be quiet," you tell her, while all but refusing to move inside her.

"I can be quiet," she grinds against you, but you're not convinced, and with a firm grasp of her jaw, you pull her closer.

"Can you?" you speak under her ear. "Can the oh-so-talented Hanni Pham control herself?"

She lets out another trembling little sound of pleasure while pushing herself onto your shaft. "I think so. All I know is you need to—yeah, right there. Yes." She closes her eyes and tries to stifle that deep groan of enjoyment.

You hush her before it gets too loud with a hand over her mouth. Tentatively, you begin moving, an aching slow journey backward and forward. As tight as her cunt is around your dick, the movement becomes easy. Dragging more pleasure from both of you and as she rolls her hips again, grinding against the motion, the whimpering returns.

"Hanni," you scold gently, pushing further into her with each stroke. "Shhh."

She mouths an 'I can't' into your hand which elicits a laugh from you and turns a smirk into a smile. You're rutting against her ass, savouring the feeling of your hips hitting her soft flesh. Ample curves along with a narrow waist begging you to embrace her. A pretty little thing taking all your cock and urging you on. It's hard not to go harder. "Need you."

"Careful what you wish for," you whisper as she tries to lean back her head in bliss.

Her tongue brushes your knuckles, and the soft sweep feels like a warm, wet invitation to probe further. A few seconds of uncertainty follows, and then her mouth closes around the tips of your fingers and starts to suck. Sharing the same excitement that has gotten the better of you the past few days of endless debauchery.

You sink your fingers deeper. She sucks harder, her moans stifled behind her pursed lips. Anywhere but here and you would throw her face down on the mattress, fuck her into a state of bliss. Make her beg for you and claw the bedsheets. Such an innocent girl, a girl who should have stayed wrapped in silk and lace, but who demands you take her, just a moment longer, just a bit rougher, and how can you refuse a beauty like that?

Just as Hanni settles and relaxes, her body is dragged into tense peaks of delight. Tiny gasps leak from around your fingers as you thrust deeper. She chokes as she orgasms, digging her nails into the arm that is holding her close, her face going bright pink. Sweat on her temples, on her chest. An earthly aroma of wet skin and hot breaths. She swears and curses the pleasure as you pump your orgasm between her thighs.

You fill her. For a while, you are one, grinding together in mutual fulfilment, breathing heavily and lost in your actions. The mess you're making runs from her sweet cunt, down her thigh, onto the bed.

The rush leaves the both of you exhausted. Hanni does nothing to resist you pulling out and emptying the last few drops over her ass. It is all over as quick as it began. It comes with a strange realisation of how natural it all feels to cum inside Hanni Pham.

-

It's not often that someone you interview not only takes your card, but doesn't immediately throw it away, and actually uses the number on there. You're in the back of a cab when it rings. Today's show has just about finished and while you didn't quite manage to snag another interview like the one you did with Hanni, it has been a good day.

"Did you get enough to write about?" is the first question she asks when you answer.

"I got a few bits here and there. Some surface-level stuff from others, but you gave me the marquee piece. I'll fluff up what I have with the spec sheets released and I'm sure it'll be a nice little exclusive."

"That makes me sound important," she giggles.

"You're a fucking celebrity, of course you are important."

"No need to swear."

"Apologies." There's a momentary pause. You let it linger on the call and soon enough, Hanni's laugh fills the silence.

"I'm kidding. Keep up that energy,"

"So, why are you calling? Usually, when I get a call it's to recant some statement or explain a misquote. Did I make a mess of something?"

"Well, not yet. But I have some ideas."

"Ideas?" You repeat, brows raising.

"Where are you now?" she asks, and for a moment you wonder if you shouldn't be answering.

"Taxi. Headed back to the place I'm staying."

"Where are you staying?" It's a strange question for her to ask, you think. Or maybe, it's not strange at all, but timing and circumstance have you considering the way it sounds.

"A hotel."

"Look to your right," she says, making a confusing request, but you look. Of course, you do. Outside the window, in the next lane over, stuck in the very same traffic as you are, is a familiar face. She gives you the widest grin, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Are you following me?" you joke.

"Do you want me to?" There's something playful in her voice, an attempt at seduction that's not exactly subtle.

"Hanni, what are—"

"Just answer the question," she interrupts.

And that's it. There's no reason to evade the truth. Lying to yourself gets no one anywhere. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good," she murmurs, "you know, I'm still wearing the same outfit as I was at the event. These jeans are getting really uncomfortable." She pulls the phone away from her ear for a second and you hear her call out, "Driver? See that taxi on our left? Follow it, please. And can I get some privacy back here?"

There are some distant sounds from the other side of the phone. An affirmation of orders. Then her voice is right back with you.

"As I was saying, these jeans are really uncomfortable."

"Fashion can hurt," you say flatly.

"You're supposed to tell me to take them off or something. You're not very good at this are you?"

"I didn't realise 'this' is what we were doing." You've developed a stupid fucking smile, even if it's going unseen.

"Hmm, it can be." There is a moment of quiet as if she's thinking. "Hold on a second," Hanni says. There are some vague sounds you can't make out before she comes back to the phone. "Got bored of waiting. Now, keep talking will you? I like the sound of your voice."

"Hanni, what—"

"Just keep talking. Tell me what you think of me." She can't see it, but the look of confusion must be shining bright on your face. At a loss, and under duress, you speak your mind.

"Well, you seem nice." It's a weak first effort. "Very funny, a little confident. You must know you're pretty. Young, but driven." The words you mumble are stilted, but telling the truth.

"Really. You think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

"Not sexy?"

"Hanni, you're fucking sexy."

"Thanks," her laugh is like bells, ringing through the car. "That's better. What did you think of my outfit?"

"Daring. Not often do I see an idol go completely backless. Risky."

"Sometimes a risk is worth taking."

"Seems so."

"Tell me more. Tell me what was the part you liked the most?" Her voice drops from that relaxed confidence to a pitch that has your head buzzing with possibility.

"Nice waist. Really looked good with the way those jeans hugged your hips."

There's a long, heavy breath from the other end of the line. Something rustling and then a deep gasp from Hanni.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. Keep talking. Describe me to me." Her voice is fraught with need, a small tremble in each word.

"Okay." That was permission, or demand, whichever is. You swallow before continuing. "Backless was a good choice. Your bare skin looks great. I'm sure those pictures are going viral already. Betting they are all over the web, all over people's phones."

"Are we close to your hotel?" Hanni strains out the question as if it were hard to say, every syllable wrought in pain.

"Close."

"Good, are you excited?"

"To?"

"See more of my bare skin."

Fuck. The image floods your mind like a dam breaking. Suddenly, she's right there, unclothed and naked and spread open. Suddenly, she's right there, moaning in pleasure, your cock lodged deep inside her.

"Yes," you groan into the phone. It's a painful admission. "Really, Hanni. Really fucking excited."

"So tell me, what are you excited to see?"

"Your ass. Love the way you wore the jeans just a little too tight. Really framed it."

She whispers, "That's all? Anything else, anything special you wanted to see?"

"Your breasts. Like what the top does. Would like to pull it down and play with those breasts." This whole thing is obscene. You're shamelessly spilling your desire to a girl you just met and she's loving every second of it.

Another soft gasp is heard on the call. It's more than that, it's her panting, short snatches of breath as her little gasps become regular, heated and urgent. "And then what?"

"That's a surprise. We're here." The cab pulls up and her car pulls in behind you.

"Room number?"

"Oh-one-two-two," you say, handing over cash to pay the driver and stepping out. "See you there."

-

It's deep into the night now, and her back is pressed against the wall as you're kissing down her neck. For a young woman who looks ever so innocent, you're quickly learning the taste of her body could have the alcohol industry aflame. She's intoxicating and you're addicted. Lips sucking, teeth pressing lightly against tender flesh.

She told you to not wear a condom, not this time. She described your first load as a waste, a sinful injustice after all the things she had done to wring it from you. So now you're back inside her, thinking only of how you're going to decorate her this time, about the moment you can't hold back any longer and cum, uninhibited, spewing mess over her delicate, flawless little body.

So you're just fucking nailing Hanni against the wall, her leg pulled up and knee hooking around your elbow. Holding her there, pounding her cunt the best you possibly can. Her hands scratch deep lines into your back, and her fingernails leave dull aches along your spine. There's something primal in the way she's urging you to fuck her harder, stronger, faster. She wants all of you, just like you want all of her.

You lift her other leg and hold her there, folded against the drywall. The steady pounding begins to churn her insides, to break her fragile body to the rhythm. She's mewling a mixture of sounds in your ear. Begging. Incoherent sounds of need. Then you feel her cunt clenching and tightening, a sudden strength to the grip she has on your shaft.

Hanni screams your name, howling it at the ceiling and the walls while you drive her ever deeper through an orgasm that's torn apart her expression. Utter beauty, sheer excellence. Her quivering pleasure comes with warmth between the two of you. She cums so hard that she goes limp in your arms. Your legs really begin to strain as you pump her full of cock, and her lips find yours again.

Your kisses are savage, the gnashing of teeth and the crush of lips. She's asking for more. Demanding more.

So you throw her to the bed, turning her over and she instinctively drags herself to her knees. Her palms run to the edge of the bed, clawing the blankets as you climb behind her.

"Do you like my ass?" She breathes. Your grip finds the firm flesh with purpose.

"Love your ass," you mutter, taking a hold and angling her towards you.

"Then fuck me." Hanni arches deep, pushing her soft ass in the air and pressing her tits against the mattress. She backs right up to you, begging to be fucked, once more.

The penetration is perfect. Balls deep inside this horny little girl, grabbing a fistful of her hair and using it as leverage. It's hard, it's fast, it's a brutal rut. A sweaty, wet fuck driven by nothing but raw need. She's too wet, too accommodating, clapping herself against your pelvis, meeting your every thrust.

It's not the time to think. Simply let instinct take over. Leaning into it and fucking her.

More words spill from her mouth. More dirty, lewd praises that have your balls aching. It won't be long now. Every muscle, straining with effort, pulls taut. It's such a fucking trip. This once innocent-looking person sucking the life right from the core of your being, bending over for you to force a hand along her spine and bend her further.

"Cum on me," she whimpers again and again. Over and over. She's pleading with you. "Please, cum on me. On my back. Cover me."

There's no further thought, no plan, no point of focus. Everything narrows down to the slick friction around your shaft, and your stomach starting to become strained from the endless effort. To how her ass shakes as your fuck yourself to the edge and how she cranes her neck to watch you.

At the very last moment, you draw out of her and jerk yourself, quick and urgent motions of your wrist. Hanni's knees give way and she lies flat, looking back and watching you as you start to cover her.

The first spurts land high, just beneath her hair. They collect and pool before forming and dripping forward along her shoulder blades. The next spreads across her shoulders. A thin coating that has you shiver as it lands. It goes on and on until you're slathering her in thick lines and ropes.

Something about the sight is so fitting, so delectable, as she lays there and writhes with need, adoring the feeling of being bathed in your lust.

Her expression is an aphrodisiac as she cries out in ecstasy. Her tongue runs across her lips, and then she lets out a soft lass before crashing her face into the soft bedsheets with a moan. Your fist is still pumping rope after rope of cum across her until every muscle feels drained, and you manage to collapse beside her on the bed. You trace a finger across her smooth, plump ass as you catch your breath.

"This is the life," Hanni gasps. "If I could just have endless sex, the world would be a far happier place."

-

You could have been forgiven for thinking it would be a one-off. Just one night of wild sex together before going your separate ways and never speaking again. A nice memory of a beautiful girl to always sit fondly at the back of your mind.

But the very next night, you're in her hotel bathroom. Sharing a bath together, her back pressed flush to your front. You can't fucking resist running a hand between her thighs, working gently over her cunt to hear the wonderful noises she makes.

"Please," she whispers over and over, grinding against your touch.

Ordinarily, you might tease her, and have her beg a little more, but there's nothing more enthralling than the sounds and sights of Hanni's face when she cums. So instead, you're knuckle deep with two fingers and curling them into her cunt, hitting that magic spot just a little more, faster and faster.

On the brink of her second orgasm in ten minutes, Hanni draws a noisy, shuddering breath, the exhalation quickly becoming a sharp, high-pitched wail that fills the bathroom, her eyes glaze as she climaxes. "Fuck. I—that's—more." Her head falls backwards and rests on your shoulder, "yeah, more."

Hanni's petite frame writhes in orgasm. Back arched, panting breaths quickly turning to gasps for air. Eyes flutter and roll backwards before shutting entirely. Every muscle in her tight cunt grips your fingers as waves of pleasure pour from deep inside. She grinds on you, riding the sensation of your touch through the spasms until they finally slow.

"You're so fucking cute when you cum," you kiss her cheek.

It's the compliment that has her rising from the water, she stands in front of you, her wet ass and thighs dripping as she turns toward you. "Me? Cute?" She smirks, lowering herself onto your thighs, resting your cock against her pussy. "Am I really?"

"Cutest fucking thing."

She guides your cock to her wet pussy, sinking down and slowly filling herself, the both of you making a whimper at the sensation. She's in no rush, though. She prefers slow, she favours long, lingering motions where you're all the way inside her and stay there for just a few moments before climbing once more.

Her rhythm has you melting back against the bath. Long, even strokes have her ass lifting and sinking, and she rolls her hips so elegantly that it's natural to reach for her waist and run your hands along her curves.

"I hope you don't think I'm easy," Hanni whispers, her fingers grabbing the hair on the back of your head, locking her hot body against yours, keeping you close, wrapping around you. "But I'm twenty and sex-deprived, so deal with it."

"You're allowed to enjoy sex. Nothing wrong with that," you answer through closed eyes, focusing only on the heat, the skin, the feeling of your cock rubbing through her.

With a mischievous chuckle, she rests her weight on you. Chest to chest, nose against nose.

"Careful," she whispers, her voice fluttering in between soft sighs of excitement. "I could get used to having a man around. Someone willing to get me off, over and over again. You might be stuck with me. Wouldn't that be scandalous? A reporter who's secretly fucking a star like me?"

That alluring, seductive voice makes your body tense. Her kiss threatens to undo you right then and there. She's riding you harder now, bouncing her ass in your lap. Driving the pleasure, the friction, harder and deeper.

"I have a confession to make," you speak with heavy breaths, trying to restrain yourself. "I think I could get used to this. Every day. If I could."

"It's a deal then. How about we celebrate by letting you blow a load inside me? Would you like that?" She nibbles at your earlobe, giggling as she sucks it between her lips. "How good would it feel to feel your hot, thick cum slide all the way up inside me?"

"So fucking good."

"And maybe tomorrow I'll keep you inside me and let you fill me all over again, and maybe I'll do the same the day after." There's a devilish smile across her face as she continues, "I'll ride you again and again and again..."

She keeps repeating it, the word stamped into your head over and over and each time she says it, she drives her hips down into you. Hard. The water ripples. Her ass slaps the tops of your thighs. It's a relentless rhythm, an insistent grind, a desperate desire for more.

"You're filthy," you tell her as you take a firm grip on her ass, her flesh filling your grasp and the muscles rippling through her skin as she moves.

"Maybe. Maybe I am, and maybe you like it." She laughs. A sound as sweet as honey.

"You know I do."

"Then show me how much. Fill me. Let it go."

That's all you need, just her words and the way she fucks you. She's the one doing all the work, and it's all the reason you need to relax and let the bliss consume you.

Hanni is kissing you when it hits. She swallows your groans of release, sucking them into her lungs. Her hands press down into your shoulders, nails sinking deep into your skin.

She doesn't stop moving, not once. Keeps grinding. She maintains the pace until you can't take any more. Until there's nothing left. Only then does she ease her motion, settling onto your lap, keeping you deep in her.

"That was amazing," she sighs.

"Fucking was."