#ITS ALWAYS FUCKING SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[reignpage]

ᥫ᭡ Pegging Gojo as a reward for being so good

More than eager, he was ecstatic when you broached the topic with him, even insisted he didn’t need any preparations because he’s ‘always ready.’ Whatever that means. The strap-on is bright blue with rhinestones on the harness; his amazing princess deserves to feel pretty, he said. 

On all fours, completely bare except for his blindfold, he impatiently awaits to be stretched out. “Come on, baby. I’m ready. Don't be scared. You won't hurt me. I can take it. My ass will eat it up like a buffet.”

“That’s what I’m scared of most, idiot.”

When he laughs, his puckered hole quivers and the sight entrances you out of your fears. The fake cockhead kisses the hole, circling and pushing in slightly just to test the waters. Still a little cold, your boyfriend jolts at the odd sensation of the strawberry-flavoured lube aiding the mouth-watering rubbing of the fake cock against every sensitive nerve ending in his most vulnerable area. 

Satoru lets out a breathy moan. Then, inch by inch, he’s taking it all in like a pro — he’s even got a perfect arch you can’t help but run your nails down, teasing him. 

“Woah,” he says, feeling insanely full when you bottom out with no problems. “This is what you feel every time? I just gained a n-new —hngh, ooh that’s in deep, baby—newfound respect for you.”

Admittedly, you’re enjoying this more than you thought you would. There’s something about bringing the strongest sorcerer to his knees, watching his adorable, pink hole flutter around a cock, albeit a fake one, and seeing a blush erupt all over his pristine, pale skin. He’s moaning like crazy, pushing back ever so slightly like he can’t help it. 

“Feel good, Toru?”

He groans and squeezes down. Hard. “D-don’t. Ha, don’t talk like that.”

“Like what, baby?”

“Like that. It’s got my dick leaking l-like crazy. Ah, I don’t think I’ll —oh, damnnn— l-last very long. Not when you’re fucking me so good, baby. K-knew you’d be a natural at -ngh!- this. I love you so so soooo much. You're a champ.”

And he’s right: he doesn’t last very long at all. Satoru shoots out ropes and ropes of pearlescent cum all over his stomach and the satin sheets, body shaking from the heavenly sparks of delectable lightning emanating from deep inside of him, and you swear he even whimpers in the midst of his fierce orgasm. 

Giggling, you wrap your hand around his super sensitive cock, loving the way it pulses in your grip. Like a reflex, he thrusts forward, keen to milk himself for all he's worth. He can't get enough of the feel of you, and darn it if he doesn't wish he could feel your real cock inside of him instead of a silicon one. "Oh, fuuuuck, that was a good one."

Slumped on the bed in front of you, you let him reorient himself — he gets mean when he doesn't get a break in between orgasms. You're mulling the last ten minutes, thinking that the blue dildo looked great against his pale skin, that it did somehow come naturally to you, and that it was oddly enjoyable. There was a notch in the strap that was rubbing your clit just right, and if he had lasted longer, despite the aching in your hips from the unusual movements, you totally would have orgasmed. 

"Would it be too," he breathes out, sentence fragmented by a sudden shudder, "t-too much to call you mommy? 'Cause it kinda feels right."

"Shut up, you dork."

It takes only mere seconds for him to ask for another round once the wave of pleasure subsides, the dildo still lodged deep, held tight by his gummy walls. And you're not hesistant either to oblige. After all, he's worked so hard; he deserves this. 

“H-hey, do me against a mirror. I wanna see how pretty you look.”

You roll your eyes. “You mean, you want to see yourself.”

A grin creeps its way onto his face, which you feel more than you see. “I can multitask — that’s what the Six Eyes are for, baby.”

[abbotjack]

Put Him on Speaker

summary : Jack gets home from a long night shift, exhausted and unreadable as always. When Robby calls for a quick update, you decide to test his patience—climbing into his lap and pushing until he breaks.

word count : 1,518

a/n : this is for the one anon in my inbox! a bit shorter than usual, expect something with more substance once finals are over next friday unless I procrastinate studying, then you'll get something sooner

content/warning: explicit sexual content, reader giving oral while jack is on the phone with robby, bratty teasing, silent/dom jack, power dynamics, spit/slick/throatplay mentions, phone call tension, implied punishment sex, language, 18+ only MDNI

It’s a few minutes past 7:00 a.m. when Jack finally walks through the door.

You don’t need to check the time—you know it by the rhythm. The precise click of the deadbolt, the hollow knock of his boot hitting hardwood, then the softer drag of the other. Not a limp. Not pain. Just the quiet, practiced gait of a man who’s used to carrying more than he should. He moves slower after shifts like this—like the night didn’t end, just rearranged itself and followed him home in silence.

You listen from the couch as the weight of him settles into the apartment. Keys hit the counter with a dull clatter. His backpack lands against the back of the kitchen chair, the sound muted but final. Then the crack and hiss of a beer bottle opening, followed by a long, scraped-out breath like it’s been sitting in his lungs since midnight.

You don’t get up.

You’re curled sideways in the corner of the couch, legs bare, the hem of one of his old Penguins shirts skimming the tops of your thighs. The blanket’s twisted somewhere near your feet. You’re scrolling absently through your phone, pretending not to track every move he makes with your breath.

You don’t look at him. “Rough night?”

Jack grunts. The kind that says everything and nothing. “Watched a kid try to clamp off an artery with a fucking Kelly.”

You wince, lips twitching. “Oof.”

“I earned this beer.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes catching on the strain in his jaw. “It’s not even light out. You starting early with the day-drinking and trauma-dumping?”

He snorts, dragging the bottle to his mouth. “Only if you beg me for it.”

You tilt your head, faux-sweet. “Why are you grumpy? I waited up.”

That gets a flicker of softness in his eyes. “You always do.”

You stretch, slow and easy, your shirt riding up your thighs like it has a mind of its own. “I didn’t say I waited nicely.”

His gaze drops. Tracks the length of your legs like a man committing the lines to memory. “Should’ve known.”

You shift, tuck your legs beneath you, chin tipped with interest. “Was it the post-op guy from yesterday?”

Jack rolls his shoulder, still rubbing at the back of his neck like the shift’s clinging to him. “Yeah. McKay was ready to page IR, but Dana stopped her. Mohan flagged the labs hours ago—picked it up before it spiraled. Saved the guy a ton of unnecessary bullshit.”

You smile—just enough to be smug. “So you’re saying Dr. Mohan was right.”

He exhales hard through his nose. “I’m saying she wasn’t wrong.”

Jack crosses the room and drops onto the couch with the kind of full-bodied heaviness that only happens after an overnight in hell. His scrubs are creased, collar damp from scrubbing out, and he smells like antiseptic, cold metal, and the hollow sterility of trauma bay walls. There’s a settled tension in his body, like exhaustion and adrenaline are still playing tug-of-war under his skin.

He leans his head back. Closes his eyes.

The quiet stretches long enough to start sinking in—until his phone buzzes against the armrest.

Jack groans, already bracing. “If that’s Gloria, I swear to Christ—”

He glances at the screen. Jaw flexes. “Robby.”

You raise a brow. “Your work husband calling for pillow talk?”

“He’s covering days,” Jack mutters, already lifting the phone. “Wants to know if the patient made it through the night.”

“You’re off the clock,” you say, sliding easily into his lap. “Can’t it wait?”

He flicks a tired look at you. “Five minutes.”

“You said five minutes last time.”

“This time I mean it.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He smirks, but it’s faint. Tired. “You always say that.”

Then he answers, voice shifting in an instant—cool, even, professional. Doctor mode.

“Yeah,” he says. His grip finds your hip as you settle in. “Vitals held. He coded once overnight, but charge caught it early.”

You roll your hips. Just enough to make sure he feels it.

His fingers tighten.

“I left instructions. Hourly monitoring,” he says, like nothing’s happening. Like you’re not already winding him up.

You press your lips to the side of his neck. “You’re really gonna do this whole call while pretending you’re not already hard for me?”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. His grip answers for him.

“She’s covering now,” Jack adds, voice sharp, eyes fixed straight ahead.

You slide off his lap, slow and sweet, and kneel between his legs.

Jack’s eyes drop to you. His pupils darken.

He mouths: Don’t.

You mouth: You shouldn’t have answered.

You palm him through his scrubs—feel him twitch, thick and eager under your touch. When you tug the waistband down, he falls heavy into your hand, hot and hard and already leaking against your skin.

“No, I’m listening,” Jack says, but his voice hitches, subtle.

You stroke him once—just a tease. Then lean in and lick a slow line along the underside.

“BP held. No fever. No new complaints,” he grits, every word controlled. Distant. Like you’re not kneeling between his knees with spit on your chin and a grin in your eyes.

You hum around him as you take him into your mouth.

Jack’s voice stumbles. “Still stable. Same overnight.”

You suck slow, deep, obscene. Your hand works what your mouth can’t reach. You pop off with a wet sound and a smirk. “Put him on speaker.”

“No.”

“What, scared he’ll hear how good I make you feel?”

Jack doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t answer. Just grips the phone like it’s the only tether he’s got.

You take him deeper—messier, filthier. Your spit coats everything, dripping from your lips, your chin, your fingers curled tight around the base. He twitches on your tongue, every breath he takes more ragged than the last.

“No,” he says into the phone, voice thinning at the edges. “I’m fine. Just—tired.”

You gag around him on purpose, let it echo wet and obscene. Then pull back slowly, deliberately, looking up through your lashes, mouth shiny and wicked.

“Gonna come with him still listening?”

Jack's hand lifts, covering the phone’s speaker. “Shut the fuck up,” he whispers, barely audible, like it’s carved straight from the edge of control. “Keep going and I swear to God—”

But he never finishes the threat—because you don’t stop. You go harder, meaner, your mouth a mess, your hand slick and ruthless at the base. His cock twitches against your tongue, spit coating everything—your lips, your chin, your fingers. Your throat tightens around him, your jaw aching, but you don’t let up.

Jack’s other hand fists the cushion, knuckles bone-white. His chest is rising fast now, breath sharp and uneven, like he’s losing the fight he won’t admit he’s in. Like you're dragging him under, and he’s letting you.

“Yeah,” he bites out. “Just send the labs—I’ll deal with it later.”

He looks down at you, jaw tight, breath shallow, eyes dark with a fury that barely masks how hard he is for you.

“Robby—I’ve gotta call you back.”

“Everything alright?” Robby asks.

Jack’s voice drops an octave. “It will be.”

He hangs up.

Then he looks down at you.

And everything in his face is wrecked.

"You’re in so much fucking trouble.”

You moan around him, smug.

He thrusts once—deep, sudden, overwhelming. You choke, recover, and go harder.

You’re a mess—slurping, gagging, swallowing around him like it’s the only thing you’ve ever been good at. He’s pulsing now, hips twitching, mouth slack.

“Shit—baby—fuck—I’m gonna—”

You suck him deeper. Tighter. He breaks.

His whole body jerks forward. He comes down your throat with a raw, guttural groan. You swallow every last drop.

He breathes like he’s just come up for air, chest rising in sharp, broken pulls. You don’t stop—not until his thigh jerks beneath you and his hand clamps around your wrist, firm and final, forcing you to still.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Catch your breath.

Then you crawl back into his lap, smug as hell, lips swollen and slick, like you didn’t just make a mess of him on purpose.

Jack doesn’t speak. Just grabs your chin in one firm hand and drags you into a kiss—slow, punishing, laced with quiet vengeance.

Then, low in your ear, deadly calm: “If he calls back,” he growls, “I’m putting you on speaker. Let him hear how desperate you sound when you’re acting like a fucking brat.”

He shifts beneath you, hand sliding down to grip your waist tight, grounding himself.

“You think you’ve won,” he murmurs, voice dark and steady. “But you’re not even close to finished.”

He leans in, breath searing the shell of your ear. “Get up. Strip. Face down on the couch.”

Your breath stalls. Heart pounds. He hasn’t raised his voice once. Doesn’t need to.

“I let you have your little game,” he murmurs, all quiet. “Now it’s my turn.”

[valentinedrifter]

Days with Somi: Expression

male reader x Jeon Somi

~13.9k words

A/N: I apologize if the plot (there's plot?) doesn't make sense because all the recent Somi pics got me dented in the head.

Thanks to @suchsweetstories for the beta read!

Enjoy.

Jeon Somi loves having sex. 

Specifically, having sex with you.

You call it her ‘love language’. Her way to shower you with affection. Which you have to admit, for someone like Somi, checks off all of the boxes.

Receiving Gifts? Being able to fuck her on the daily is a gift itself. Especially when she offers up anal.

Physical Touch? You can spank her ass and grope her tits and she’d tell you to do it again. She even encourages you to do it as much as you want.

Quality Time? She’d fuck you anywhere if she gets in the mood. Your apartment, her apartment, the fast food restaurant’s bathroom, your car in a public parking lot. The post-sex cuddles you have with her are amazing too.

Words of Affirmation? Her screams of, quote: “Fuck, yes, more–” are enough to push you to go harder. She’s also expressing her appreciation of how good you’re pounding her pussy.

Acts of Service? Either she wakes you up with a blowjob or you wake her up by eating her out. It usually ends with one–sometimes both–of you being late to work. It’s one hell of an alarm clock though.

Sex has become a pivotal portion of your life ever since you started seeing her for a couple of months now. And it’s not like you’d ever say no to doing it with Somi. You made that mistake once, and while it was…an experience, you’d rather not have to call in sick because she fucked you too hard. 

It’s the fact that sex is the only consistent way she shows her feelings for you that makes it feel a little bit superficial. 

She comes over to your apartment angry at how the latest batch of makeup she made was shipped to the wrong address? She won’t ask you for comforting hugs, she’ll tell you to push her legs over her head and dick her down till she can’t walk. 

You get frustrated over the new Return-To-Office policy your job announced because the office is an hour drive? She won’t say a word, just pull your pants down and squeeze your cock in between her tits.

You won’t lie, sex with Somi is Grade A, Top Tier, Perfection. You’ll never get tired of her body, her moans, her willingness to do anything. What you are tired of, is the absence of romance—for the lack of a better term—in your life.

Not in the physical way, no, she already gives you enough to last a lifetime. It’s that the emotional link that you feel was starting to degrade.

You want to be able to do the whole “Netflix and Chill” bit without it ending in the couch getting wet. To be embracing her as you wake up in the mornings. To spend the day doing nothing together.

And it wasn’t like she doesn’t say the words that you’ve been wanting to hear, because she does. She just says it with ‘your cock’ instead of ‘you’ a lot more than you’d like.

You’re starting to think that this is becoming more casual, something to scratch her itch, some sort of fuck buddy set up instead of as a couple. Maybe when this relationship with Somi was still at its infancy would you consider that type of deal–purely physical–because that’s what this was built on.

Thinking back, it’s how it’s always been. Even as she first approached you at the bar you two met. She ordered what you had—a shot of whiskey—and started off with small talk. You two got to know each other, and you may have had a few too many shots that made your lips a bit looser. 

That’s why when you drunkenly tell her that she was hot in that white crop top she was wearing, and that you wanted to lick the alcohol off her stomach, all she does is smirk. The next words she said sobered you straight up.

“When and where?”

And that’s how you ended up playing body shots inside her apartment. It started off innocent enough. Well, as innocent as playing the sort of game that inevitably gets you both drunk and fucked.

You two kept in touch after that night. After a week or so of trading messages and a few racy pics from her, she invited you to meet up again.

This is when the cycle began. One of you invites the other to meet up for something, you do said something, and you two end up doing each other after. Then it happens again.

Somewhere along the way feelings were aired out and you two started to see each other more seriously. At the same time, railing Somi into any nearby surface became a 9-5 job.

Yet you can’t help but want more than that.

To be honest, you might be overthinking things. Maybe you should have sat her down, talked like two responsible adults, and figured out whatever’s happening between you two—really just you—before it got out of hand.

So you do the responsible move. Ask a friend for advice. 

Although, you might have asked the wrong person.

“You’re overthinking things.” Aeri deadpans, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m not overthinking it.” You deny. “I’m just…stressing about it.”

“That’s the same thing.” 

“Look, are you gonna help out or not?” You scowl, crossing your arms.

“Fine. But you’re presenting to the boss next week.” She sighs, dramatically placing her drink down on the table. “Here’s what you do–”

The next hour becomes a weird lecture consisting of Aeri laying out an entire thesis of plans on how to woo Somi with your heart and not with your dick. You needed to note it all down just to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

After some planning and finalizing some dates, you settled on a beach trip. It was ordinary, casual, relaxing. A chance to have fun without too many shenanigans involved. You can even take her to the nearby festival that’s going to take place for some celebration too.

Of course, the trip being with Somi makes that a pipe dream. 

Day one was mostly spent on actually getting to the venue, getting a feel for the area, and checking into the hotel. 

And everything was going great. It was all going according to plan. After you take a break from all the driving you’ve done you told yourself that you’d take her out to see the tourist spots.

Said break is how you two end up at the hotel’s restaurant, enjoying the cuisine of different nations, the aroma of delicacies, the sound of the piano fluttering across the air. You had to veto room service because no breaks and no eating would happen otherwise.

“Oh my God.” The clattering of metal hitting ceramic fills the table. “I’m so full.” Somi’s slouched over the chair, hand over her stomach as you finish up your own plate.

“You did get two plates worth of dumplings.” You shrug, stabbing your fork down on a leaf. “And the crab too.”

“But it was so good.” She’s justifying, arms out across the table. “I kinda want more.”

“And make your ass explode all over the bathroom later?”

“Fuck you.” She laughs, throwing a napkin at your face. “Like you won’t be doing that later.”

“O–kay.” You exasperate, gesturing down. “Not in front of my salad.”

“Come on.” Her chin’s resting on a hand, tilting her head as she smirks. And it’s that smirk, that fucking smirk, that always precedes your downfall to the drug that is Somi. 

Ruining her is usually an eventuality, especially given that you’re going to be alone with her for the next few days. But this time, you will not falter. You remind yourself why you’re here, what the point of this entire trip was about. That this is to show her how much you–

Oh Goddamnit.

Somi’s finger is on her tank top, stretching the fabric outwards. Her tits are practically squished together, making them a lot more bigger than they already are. Then she pulls down, and you find out that she wasn’t wearing a bra this entire time. You also find out that the only thing that was on her boobs were a pair of nipple tape covering her buds.

“You sure you don’t want to?” Her finger’s moving across her top, showing you more of that milky white skin, and she knows that you’re getting hooked. “I even brought lube.”

“Somi-” Your hand springs up, slapping her hand away and pulling her top back up in one smooth motion. “I thought we said no funny business outside the hotel.”

“We’re still in the hotel aren’t we?” Of course she’s gonna pull semantics at you. “Just a little quickie before we head out for the festival.”

The line’s set, and you’re tugging it. “You just can’t help yourself, can you.” 

She’s lifting her arms above her head, emphasizing her chest, her tight clothing rising with it to show her stomach, defined and toned from all the yoga lessons she’s been doing. You unconsciously grip the table sheets.

“I just wanna show my appreciation for my sweet, sweet boyfriend-” She’s reeling you in, hard, and you inevitably let yourself be swept away. “-who set up this entire trip and drove me all the way here so early in the morning.”

You’re thinking of happy thoughts, the logistics of the rest of the trip that you have yet to do with her, the caesar salad that you’ve been enjoying. Anything to stop yourself from appreciating the view right in front of you because this is getting out of hand.

The chair screeches. “So whenever you’re done here,” Somi’s standing up, giving you a very nice view of her cleavage as she does. “I’ll be heading back up and getting myself ready.” That smirk is still on her face when she leans in. “Maybe if you’re fast enough you can have a piece of my ass.”

Your resolve is officially gone, the idea of having Somi’s sweet, tight ass once more becoming too tempting as she walks away, waving her keycard at you like it was some sort of prize. Your eyes are glued to her waist moving from side to side.

Sinker.

—

You had to sit and wave at the waiter to pay for the food. Normally you’d go right up to the cashier to do that but a particular brunette made it hard to stand up. Once you manage to get up from your seat without your hard-on in full display to the other patrons, you immediately speed walk it to the elevator. 

You’re falling back into the same repetition of Somi causing trouble, dragging you to another round of debauchery. You already tried to set ground rules by only doing it inside the hotel, but you suppose you’ll need to re-negotiate it to just being in the hotel room.

Which, thinking on it, was where you were going. Sigh.

She’s irresistible, and she knows it. Shit, she flaunts it whenever she can around you because she knows you’ll give in eventually.

Maybe you can slip in one dose of Jeon Somi’s tight ass before you move on with your plan to take her out for a romantic date. Considering the plan’s already screwed up as it is, all cause Somi—and by extension, you—decided to have some fun. 

Though, you really should stop this. Say no. Sounded simple enough. Just one word. Lay it out flat.

But the seed’s already planted. The picture of her in your hotel room, waiting, naked, touching herself, prepping for all the dirty things you’ll be doing to her; Your inhibitions get shot to pieces.

You already know what’s going to happen when you walk through that door. She’ll be somewhere in the room—the balcony, you bet—ready for you to ravish her. And for all intents and purposes, you might as well enjoy the detour.

Soon as you open the door to your hotel room, the TV’s blaring out music and the bathroom door’s open. You take your shoes off before walking up to the doorway to be greeted with the unholy sight of Somi.

Naked, leaned into the bathroom counter where she uses the mirror to glance at you, her ass swaying as one of her hands are in between her legs and the other resting on the cold marble right next to a clear little bottle.

“Hey there.” She sighs out. “Just–finishing up.” Her eyes are fluttering shut, two fingers pumping into her puckered hole, already knuckle deep at this point. Somi knows the drill when it comes to preparing herself for anal; she has it down to a science at this point.

Her hand slides over to the bottle, pushing it towards you as a silent suggestion before she ruffles her hair, making her all the more ruinable. You’re shaking your head, but you step behind her anyway, unbuckling your belt in the process.

“Always a tease.” You’re pulling your pants down, your boxers following after to let your cock feel the cold air of the bathroom.

“Like you don’t love it.” She replies, orbs blinking open, looking at you through the mirror with fuck me eyes as she pulls her hand away from her hole. “Ready when you are.”

You’re applying an ample amount of lube onto your cock, stroking to help cover your entire shaft as you move closer, resting yourself on her ass. “You’re excited.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been horny ever since we got in the car.” 

You scoff. “You’re always horny.” 

She laughs. “Who wouldn’t when you have that cock–” Your tip’s pressing against her asshole, making her unable to reply as she feels you push into her. It’s splitting her open, her tight, slick ass taking you in slowly.

“Hurry up.” She’s taking deep, steady breaths as she presses back onto your cock, adjusting to the feeling of your cock inside her, taking even more of you as you grip her hips. As you bottom out, she lets out a groan, smiling through the pain of taking your entire dick up her ass.

“You’re getting impatient.” A hand lifts up from her hip to grab one of her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. “Thought you’d wanna take your time.”

“You still gotta take me to that festival.” She moans out as you’re pulling out slowly, letting her get used to your size before you stretch her out again. She clenches around you, impossibly tight, as you slowly begin to buck into her. “And I wanna get to–Fuck, that’s it–get to the beach too.”

She loops one of her hands around her neck as a harness, pulling herself up to give you a kiss. “So as much as I want to enjoy this–“ Another sigh slips out of her, the pleasure slowly erasing any of the pain that she’s feeling. “–You need to dick me down, fast, so we can enjoy our vacation.”

You smile, dipping down to pepper kisses around her neck. “Something we agree on, babe.” Your thrusts progressively get faster into her, enjoying the feel of her ass, the lube doing wonders for the both of you as she braces herself once more on the counter.

She’s so unbelievably snug, the feel of her abs flexing on your hand as she sucks you in so much easier now, the wet, sticky, warm hole overtaking your mind as you get to pounding her asshole.

”Fucking missed this ass, didn’t you?” She’s watching you over the reflection, your gaze laser focused on the bounce of her ass. It was hypnotizing, seeing it recoil from how hard you’re ramming your cock into her. 

“I never say no to your ass.” You grunt out, gripping her hip a bit firmer, squeezing her tit a bit harder, hammering a bit faster as you enjoy hearing her whimper your name out, her hand shooting up to hold onto yours as she shifts her body to lean into you instead.

”Then ruin my ass–“ She’s grinning, squeezing her breast over your hand. Her other hand is moving back down between her legs again, circling her clit, adding even more to the bliss she’s feeling. “–ruin it for anyone else.”

You oblige, hand crashing down on her ass before you grip her again, near the small of her back this time as you get rougher, thrusts getting more frantic as she starts to sing all these filthy words out.

“God, love you in my ass. Love it when you stretch my ass out, filling me, breaking me.” She’s on a tangent, muttering out all these porn star-y lines as if she is one, and honestly? She can probably make bank if all she had to do was take dick. “Gonna–Gonna make me your whore, aren’t you? Make me take your cock in all my tight fucking holes till I can’t fucking walk anymore–”

A sharp crack airs out, followed by a chuckle, slow, breathy, enticing. Her tongue’s out, tracing her lips. “Do it again. Slap my ass some more.”

And you do it. God do you do it. Your palm’s leaving hard slaps on her skin, leaving it with red marks that gets her even more fucked up as she watches, mouth widening at how much you’re utterly obsessed with her and her ass.

“Only think about cock nowadays don’t you, you stupid bitch.” You pinch a bud, giving her another slap on the ass. Whether she tightens up from the slap or the degrading nickname, you can only guess. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re getting mine.”

”Yes, love your cock–“ Somi’s rubbing herself faster now, fingers getting desperate as you slam harder into her hole, unrelenting. “Own this ass–” Her eyes are rolling back, her entire body starts to tremble, losing herself as she grips the counter again, letting herself be used like a doll. 

”Oh, fuck–“ She lets out this scream, raw, husky as liquid starts to drip out of her, dripping down her legs all the way to the tiles. Her head slacks downward, eyes shutting, her ass somehow gets even more vice-like than you thought it could get, making you murmur out a curse, reluctantly pulling out of her ass to stop yourself from following her.

Her fingers are persistent, working her clit when you spread her ass, looking at her gaping hole. You grip your shaft, lowering it down to her pussy, slick from her cum, dragging it up and down, the feeling of her heat making you wet your lips.

She shudders when you push inside her cunt, legs still shaking as you bury deep inside her. Her ass may have been tighter, but the feeling of her pussy being so much more slicker and the way it was radiating heat makes you groan out.

“Miss my pussy too?” She purrs, using the mirror to look at the both of you. Her hair’s a mess, brown strands sticking out all over the place, tongue playfully peeking out as that damn smirk forms on her mouth while you start fucking her.

“Just getting a taste.” You’re wrapping your arms around her, locking eyes with Somi through the glass as you lean in to whisper in her ear. “Promise to cum inside your ass.”

She grins, leaning back, mouth dropping open as you start to pick up the pace, her  body rocking forward every time you get balls deep inside of her. “You better. Want that cum filling up my ass, baby.”

You’re still focused on her face, from the way her eyes are rolling back again, from how rough you pummel into her, her mouth that’s panting out moans and begging for more of you, your cock, your cum. Her gaze never loses sight of you, watching you pound her into the marble.

Then you feel it. That all-familiar stirring in your balls, making you go feral, and she can sense it too, by how she pushes back against your hips, letting her take you for a ride.

You’re holding onto her tits, squeezing the soft flesh, rolling her nipples between your fingers, tugging at them, while Somi’s grounding herself by the counter as she’s bucking, grinding her ass against you whenever she takes you all in.

Her ass is fucking unbelievable to look at, soft, firm, bouncing with this rhythm that edges you closer to the end. The slaps of her backside hitting your pelvis is all you can hear, fueling you further to bursting. That tightness in your balls is building, the feel of her wet, hot pussy sending you to the deep end before you spill inside her.

“Gonna cum, Somi, fuck–” You lock up, going for one last push to cross the finish line as you send it, deep, filling her completely with your length.

The pressure breaks, hands sliding down to hold onto her curves, locking her in place as you cum, shooting up her pussy, the few hot spurts painting her walls. Then you remember where you’re supposed to cum, and pull out abruptly. Cum’s still leaking out as you press your tip into her asshole, flooding her pucker with your load.

“That’s it.” She stills, moaning in tune with every pulse of your cock, filling her ass, rolling her hips as you thrust, stuffing her with cock, giving her every bit of your cum. “So much hot, fucking cum all inside me.”

You slump over Somi, resting your head by her nape, completely spent and she’s glowing. As if your cum was some sort of energy drink that invigorates her, looking like she wasn’t pounded into the bathroom sink. 

“So–” She plants this sloppy kiss on your cheek, a snicker coming out of her as she rests her head on yours. “My ass still as good as you remember?”

“Always.” You sigh out, pulling out of her and drawing her into your arms. “Now shut up and let me have this moment.”

Her lips curve upwards, air scoffing out through her nose as she leans into you, running a hand through your hair, damp from your past actions. She leaves another kiss on your shoulder, soft, loving.

“This is nice,” she mutters out, nestling underneath you.

You hum in agreement, seeing yourself smiling over the reflection of the mirror.

Even if you two have done this so many times, you’d never get tired of having Somi in your arms.

—

After the bathroom incident, you both took a shower—separately, of course, you didn’t want any more unpredicted scenes happening—and walked to the nearby festival. Fucking about in the short trip to the venue was something you’d expect coming from her.

“Why is the festival so far away from the beach?” Somi’s fixing her bucket hat, using the nearby window of a cafe as a mirror. “You said that it was nearby.”

“It is.” You place a hand on the small of her back, steering her away from the window where people were definitely watching her model for free. “It’s a ten minute walk.”

“That’s ten minutes too long though-” And the countdown’s at five. You’re rushing her to the crossing, guiding her out of any more trouble. “-and my feet are starting to hurt.”

“Somi, we just got out of the hotel.” You deadpan. “And how does your feet hurt in All-Stars?” You stop at the other side, turning your head to face her.

“Because you’re walking too fast, jackass.” She pouts. It’s not something you see everyday from her. “Slow down a bit, enjoy the scenery.”

You know what she meant by ‘scenery’. It was Somi-speak for ‘Let’s find a place for a quickie’. One more way to derail this break you’ve planned for weeks. And you were not gonna fall for it a second time.

“Somi.” Your voice is stern, calling her out on her bullshit. “Seriously, not outside.”

She rolls her eyes, lips jutting out just enough for it to look adorably pissed off. “It’s just a joke–”

“No, it wasn’t.” You cut her off. “I know you. And that’s not a joke.”

Some would think you’re being too harsh on her. Normally, you’d agree. But you need to put your foot down this time. The glare on your face surprises her, like she wasn’t expecting you to push back on something that’s become the norm in your relationship.

She’s a walking trouble magnet. Anytime, anywhere. It didn’t matter if it was a risky fuck in a public bathroom or getting fingered at a park. If she wants to get off, she’ll more than likely drag you to it. She usually expects you to follow through. Do whatever type of fucking on whatever surface is nearby. 

You can tell she doesn’t like hearing it. It was foreign. Unfamiliar territory that she’s stepped on. Wasn’t like you want to say it either, because you don’t. But Somi was pushing, even with that ‘hotel only’ rule-thing in place. 

Somi knows it. She had to. It’s why she hasn’t said anything. Only stared, searching, sighing. You know you’ve won when she adjusts her bucket hat and purses her lips together.

“You’re no fun today.” She says, wrapping her arms around yours, hiding her face from your gaze, and mutters something you barely heard.

“...But I get it.”

You let air come out through your nose, and relax just a tiny bit. Enough for her to know that you’re not truly mad, and maybe a tad bit disappointed. Her arms tighten their grip. She exhales, dramatic, exaggerated, theatrical.

“I hope you know that you owe me one later.” Her smirk is creeping back onto her face, the teasing coming back in full swing. And perhaps, even a bit of understanding slipping in.

“Yeah, yeah.” You shake your head, giving her an amused little smile. “Put it on the tab.”

She giggles, leaning into your side as you continue walking. Her head turns.

“Is that coconut?” She asks, leaning just a bit more to smell your scent.

“Yeah, why?” You’re turning a corner, a small sign pointing to the festival’s venue stuck on a wall.

“Nothing.” She gets comfy in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. “Smells nice, is all.”

This is nice too; Quiet, comfortable, enjoying each other’s company.

Until you feel it. The crowd getting thicker, the chatter and the footsteps matching the beat of the traditional drums. You felt livelier, hell, the entire place felt alive, and the smell of mouthwatering, rich, smoky, meat enters you.

Rows upon rows of food stalls are lined up; The sizzling meat, the cold boba, the multitude of grub tempting you to take part in it.

“Oh my God.” Somi lets go of your arm, slipping downward to hold your hand instead. Her stare is darting, left, right, looking between the display of delicious delights. She feels warm. “We are so eating first.”

“I thought you said you were full.”

“After what we did earlier, I need a little pick me up.” She’s dragging you to the nearby booth, the aroma of sweet, sweet meat filling your nostrils, and by God you wanted one too.

Sausages, kebabs, fishcakes. Everything looked so good you can’t choose where to start. It’s a good thing Somi does, as she takes a skewer of pork—maybe beef? You weren’t sure—and a cup of fishcakes, already pulling out change from her handbag to pay the vendor, giving her thanks while she’s at it.

She turns to you, already taking a bite of her skewer, taking the top piece off before she practically moans.

“This is sho good.” She’s shameless with the food, swiping her tongue to get the sauce off her lips, the sounds coming out of her bordering pornographic, getting her the occasional odd stare from others. “You want some?”

Shit, if the smell didn’t tempt you, the way she ate the meat would have.

She’s offering you the stick, and you were about to take it off her hands before she pulls it away, an “uh-uh” coming out disapprovingly. 

“What?” You ask, looking back at her, head tilted, giving you a look. She holds it up one more time, closer to your mouth this time. 

Your eyes cycle back and forth from hers to the stick, trying to figure if there’s some sort of ulterior motive that Somi’s trying to pull. But seeing her round ebony globes turn to crescents, face grinning, brows wagging lets you know that she really does want to feed you her meat. 

Your breath catches briefly before you let out this airy laugh. This doesn’t feel remotely close to the Somi you know, but you’re enjoying it either way.

“Unbelievable.” You mutter out, leaning in to bite the cube of flesh off the stick, chewing it slowly, savoring the flavor of the meat—definitely pork—and the sweet taste of the sauce it was dipped on before Somi bought it off the stall.

“Told you it’s good.” She’s already smug about it, finishing up the skewer before she uses the stick to dig into the fishcakes. “Almost as good as yours.”

“Did–did you just compare me to pork?” 

“Yours is still the best, babe.” She’s smirking, putting a piece of cake into her mouth before walking away. “Let’s go see what else is on the menu.”

You two move through the area, trying out whatever peaks catches your interest, like those fish bread that had bean paste inside, some fried dumplings, and a bowl of spicy ramen that you could get for free if you ate it within the set time limit. 

Both you and Somi left that shop a few bills short and egos bruised.

Your tongue is scorching from the heat and spices of whatever monstrosity of a ramen bowl you just ate, half tempted to take off your jacket while you’re at it and Somi’s wiping a tear from her eye, huffing short breaths. Just trying to recover from how fucking spicy the noodles were, and trying to salvage any shred of pride you two have.

“I think I’m dying.” She hisses out, fanning her face with her bucket hat. “We need milk or something. Anything. Just–what the fuck was in that ramen–just needs to be cold.”

You're scanning the nearby stalls, trying to find something that can alleviate this flame burning your mouths. Ice cream, shakes, something freezing. You’d take plain old water if it was kept frozen for hours on end.

Then you see it. Squeezed between two vendors, condensation dripping down the glass dispenser, ice and lemons floating over the body of water within. You can feel how cold it is from a mile away. It’s a Godsend, a light to guide you out of this hell, and Somi sees it too, speed walking towards the kiosk with you right behind her.

As soon as you approach the owner, he’s already preparing cups as if he knows everyone who’s tried the ramen came to his stall. Freezing cubes, citrusy yellow fruits, chilly H2O, all combined into a concoction that would bring forth paradise to the inside of your lips.

Somi doesn’t bother with a straw, she just pops the lid open and starts chugging it down while you’re still paying for your drinks, saying your thanks as you start drinking your own plastic cup. It’s refreshing, dousing the blaze in icy cold liquid.

The lemonade does its job, allowing a respite to finally breathe again. Somi’s already finished her drink, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, letting out a laugh.

“We’re checking every instant ramen pack we buy after that.” She says, shaking her head, blowing air through her mouth, still feeling the effects of the noodles. You let out this hum of agreement, too occupied with the bliss of the cold refreshment.

“Oh yeah.” You finally sigh out, licking your lips. “That was worse than your cooking.”

She swats your arm, light but firm enough to make you almost drop your juice. 

“My cooking’s great!” Her brows furrow, cheeks puffing out.

“Exactly. That was made by the Devil. Anything’s better than that.” You shift your grip, making sure that nothing spilled onto your hand while giving her a look.

She rolls her eyes, muttering about how ‘ungrateful’ you are when her gaze flickers past you; Her brows raise, jaw slacking slightly making you turn your head to follow her sight.

Your lips were about to part, to ask her what she’s looking at, until a deep boom cuts through the festival. It was slow, steady, pulsing, shaking the ground with each beat. Everyone around you stirs, turning to the source near the open area in the middle. You see costumed dancers with large fans on their hands. The beat of the drums goes faster, and you’re unconsciously taking Somi by the wrist, pulling her towards the performance. 

The show is spectacular; the colors of their dresses swirling around, the lights bouncing off them. They dance like a well-oiled machine, giving the spectators a show of a lifetime.

Your head turns, glancing at Somi, who’s just as immersed as you were, a glow in her those small orbs that you can get lost in that only ever shows when she’s gazing at things she cares intimately about. The orange light frames her face perfectly, the flickering shining through, a rawness in how she’s watching being written in her visage.

You can tell that she’s not just watching. The way her lips are still parted, her body nodding to the beat. She’s taking it in, losing herself in it, oblivious to the outside world. Oblivious to your staring.

Everyone’s focused on the dancers, the ballad of drums thumping along with each step they take, the muttering of the crowd as they’re wow’d by the show blending in with the smell of the nearby food stands. But all you’re focused on is her.

Somi’s blowing you away under the warm hue of the lanterns, a honeyed light encapsulating her hazel hair that makes her look like a Goddess; Shit, she probably is, and you can’t help but trace every little feature of her face; The curves of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips, the light in her eyes. While everyone’s breath is taken away from the performers, yours is taken away by her.

She looks like she’s a dream that you’ve all but imagined. One you could spend the rest of your life looking at.

And you want to tell her. God, do you want to tell her.

But you settle for holding her hand instead, giving it a light squeeze. She squeezes back.

“It’s beautiful.” Her focus is still centered on them, talking about the performance.

“Yeah.” You’re talking about her. “It is.”

She turns, locking her gaze onto yours, and she realizes that too. 

Her grip on your hand gets tighter as the last beat drums out into the air, the group posing, bowing, thanking everyone. Claps and cheers sound out as everyone slowly returns to what they were doing before.

Just like the two of you do, when a smirk appears on her face. “Getting sappy on me?”

“Shut up.” You chuckle, walking backwards, your hand never letting go of hers as you continue on exploring. The warmth in your chest still lingers.

She lets out this tiny teasing giggle, fingers squeezing playfully, letting herself be strung along the crowd. The entire place feels even more lively than it was before the dance, the swarm of people occupying the stalls once more, the energy at an all time high. 

You can still smell the aroma of the kebabs, trying to pull you back in for another taste. You see the hellish ramen shop full of people lined up to take on the challenge; The lemonade stand has pre-made cups ready.

You nudge Somi, nodding to the stand, where the current contestant’s booking it to buy said juice, causing you two to laugh at the similarities.

You and her floated, going everywhere, doing everything. Listening to the band that performed earlier do a much more calmer beat. Watching Somi try—and fail—at shooting darts.

“You good?” Your arms are crossed, amusement coloring your face as she’s aiming at the board, an eyelid closed, tongue sticking out at the side, arm cocking forward. “I can do it for you, you know.”

“Shush.” A moment. An arm extending. A thunk in the air.

“Nice.” You’re clapping. “You hit nothing three times.”

She grunts, slamming down coins on the table. “You do it then.”

And you did. You hit dead center twice. You got a small keychain of a lantern too.

Somi’s sulking, arms crossed as she stares at the board, muttering out one word. “How?”

“You’re just bad.” You can’t help but be smug about it.

You got another smack on the arm for that.

The sun’s starting to set when the both of you ended up at the souvenir portion of the place, where you can see another line on a small photobooth on the side, stalls of handmade jewelry, charms, candles, whatever can be kept as keepsakes after today.

You’re window shopping—mostly—while Somi’s going through each and every one of the sellers, picking up trinkets that catch her eye. A bracelet here, an amulet there, she’ll try them all.

You’re mostly sticking to one, browsing through columns of rings, some similar, others completely different; A variety of colors, simply intricate designs, silver and gold bands all presented in ring boxes. A few have stones adorned on them, or have engravings etched in the metal.

Yet you only see one, tucked away in a corner. You hover over it, brushing your fingers over its container, and you pick it up.

The ring itself is made of this ashen grey metal, a thin turquoise line running in the middle, looping around it. It doesn’t scream attention, but there’s something fitting about it that makes you want to-

“What you got there?” Somi’s back with you, staring at the box that you’re holding. 

You blink, and you have an epiphany; The ring wasn’t for you, it’s for her.

“Put it on.” You take the ring out of the box and place it down, and you can feel the merchant look away and whistle.

“You’re proposing already?”

“Thought it would suit you.”

She laughs, takes it off your hands and twirls it, examining it for herself. She smiles, small, almost unnoticeable, and slowly slides it on her ring finger—it fits perfectly.

“What do you know,” Somi’s admiring it on her hand. “It does suit me.” There’s a fondness in the way she says it, as if she already likes the feeling of having it on her finger.

You were expecting her to follow up on that proposal joke she made before she put it on; She didn’t.

You had that gut feeling that she’d like it earlier, but the way she looks at it catches you off guard. Like it was something that she didn’t know she needed. Like a memento that came from someone special. Someone like you.

And that was all you needed to know to get it for her.

“So what did you get?” You’re nonchalantly changing the topic, trying to hide your excitement by fishing a few more bills out of your wallet, making a subtle face at the seller like you were asking for the price.

“This.” She says just as you pay and grab the ring box from the table. “You got me this.”

“Oh.” You shrug. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “Well, I-uh, I hope you like it.”

“I love it.” She corrects, thumbing the ring. “I’m never taking it off.”

“Now who’s getting sappy?”

She makes this noise—happy, embarrassed—and shakes her head, smiling. “I hate you.”

You chuckle. “No, you don’t.”

She doesn’t answer. She only tugs you by the hand. “Come on, I heard there’s fireworks and the beach has the best view.”

You can’t help but tease her a bit when your brow raises and your lip turns upwards. “You didn’t get me anything did you?”

“Keep talking and I won’t get you anything at all.”

—

You can feel the festival’s energy stay with you two when you reach the outskirts of the beach, the faint smell of all the food you’ve passed by lingering on your clothes. But the chaos of it all is dimmer, the coastline not as populated, with only a few scattered around the area.

You took the long way back, enjoying the nightlife scenery of the area—without shenanigans—seeing everyone else enjoy the festival just as you did, the orange lights being replaced with the moonlight, some of the organizers prepping the colorful rockets that will dazzle the crowd later on.

Somi hasn’t stopped smiling, fooling around every other moment, raving all about the fireworks like it's the New Years and she needs someone to do that kissing tradition people do when it hits quadruple zeroes.

Wasn’t like you’d say no. Win in your books really.

The both of you end up on a pathway of rubble and stones, eventually coming across a set of benches looking towards the shore. She acts first, moving forward, pulling you with her to sit on the wooden chair.

Other than the sound of the waves crashing and the cicadas, it was finally quiet. A nice, comfortable quiet. Enjoying the silent peace, away from the chaos of the festival.

She rests her head on your shoulder, hand still looped around yours. “Borrow your jacket?”

“Sure.” You don’t hesitate, already moving to take your jacket off. You pull away from her for a moment to slip it from your shoulders and drape it over hers, securing it over her arms.

“Thanks.” Her fingers take a hold of the leather, pulling it closer to herself before she nestles back against you. A moment passes between you two, then–

“It’s still fucking cold.”

“I can always get you another bowl of that ramen–”

“No. Snuggle me.”

“O-kay.” And snuggle her you did. Arm over her shoulder, a kiss on her forehead. You two stay like that for a while until she takes another whiff of you, and squints.

“You really need to tell me that perfume you’re wearing.” She states.

“I’ll hand you the bottle back at the hotel.” She pouts.

“Just tell me the name already.” She whines. It was cute.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” She’s puffing her cheeks. It was cuter.

“Killjoy.” She elbows lightly. “Gonna snoop through your luggage for that bottle.”

“And now you’ll never get it.” You grin. It turns into a laugh when she elbows you a bit harder this time.

You two quiet down after, enjoying the view of the beach. She’s holding on to your hand, that ring on her finger glinting. She stares at it, smiling like an idiot again.

“Really outdid yourself this time, huh.” She mutters, too low for you to hear.

You hum, glancing down at her still staring at her hand. “Did you say something?”

She meets your eyes, giving you that look that she had back when you two were watching the performance happen. She holds it a beat too long, and opens her mouth to speak—

“Aeri told me.” She starts, gaze staying on you, even as you look away. Of course Aeri is a rat. “About why we’re here.” She chuckles. “And I think I should clear things up between us.”

“You don’t have to-” A nudge stops you from continuing.

“Shut up and let me talk.” Even when she’s serious there’s still that faint teasing inside of her. But it gives way when she breathes in and holds it, and lets it go.

“Every ex I’ve had was there because I’m ‘hot’. The easy fuck. And I knew about it.” She continues, thumb moving around the ring once more. “So I leaned into that stuff. I love doing it anyway, so I thought it’d be a win-win for everyone, you know?” She looks away, back to the shoreline. “But it didn’t feel right. Like–like yeah the sex was good–you’re the best–” She clarifies, and that kind of made your ego swell up a bit.

By a lot, actually.

“–But it was just sex. Honestly felt like I was booty call than anything else.” She shakes her head, sighing, tired from remembering those times, but pushes on anyway.

“So when we started fucking, it was different.” Her fingers tighten around the jacket. “It was fun. Well, sex is always fun, but it was funnier–”

“Funner.” You interject. Another elbow.

“Shut up.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, with you it’s sorta not like that. I actually want to fuck you because I–”

She licks her lips, a little embarrassed about what she’s going to say next even though you already know what she’s about to do anyways.

“–I love you and I know that I don’t say it too much and I knowIshouldbutlikeIdont–”

“Somi, breathe.” Your arm over her grips her shoulder, just enough to ground her back from her short crashout.

She leans back into your chest, hiding, whining, breathing. One last deep inhale, and she’s sitting back up.

“Okay, okay.” Somi exhales, shaking off any sort of fluster she has left. “I’m fine, good, chill.” A finger pokes your chest. “You really need to tell me what your perfume is.”

“If it lets you say ‘I love you’ more then I’ll get you an entire bottle.”

“Oh my God.” She laughs, hand over her face. “You are not gonna tell me the name aren’t you?”

“Maybe after the trip.” You shrug, chuckling yourself as you watch her laugh harder.

“Such a jackass.” She lets out, her laughter dying down. “Seriously though, you might think that I fuck you for shits and giggles like Aeri said you were thinking. And while I appreciate the fact that you did all this–” Her hand finds yours, soft, firm, assuring. You can feel the ring indent against your skin. “–I also appreciate you a lot more. So don’t you fucking doubt that, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” You smile, pecking her lips. “Love you.”

“...Love you too.” She smiles, hiding behind her hair this time. “Even if you won’t give me your damn perfume.”

“You are obsessed with finding out what it is.” 

“Yeah, and I am losing my fucking mind about it.” She’s back to cuddling you, your arm over her frame, dumb dopey little smiles on each of your faces. The small quiet moment passes, then—

“Sorry if I brought up exes, just–thought it was important.”

“You let me know I’m your best fuck. Nothing to be sorry about.” You get another light ribbing for that, but the giggle that comes out of her doesn’t deny your statement.

Something else was gnawing at you though.

“Did Aeri really rat me out?” You ask, scoffing, noting that you shouldn’t trust Aeri with any more secret trips. And maybe advice too.

Her eyebrows hike up. “What, because she let me know that you’re a closet Romeo in hiding?”

“I want to say that I’m more Han Solo than Romeo when it comes to romance.”

And the laugh that comes out of her sounded so genuine, so beautiful, so hers. “And I’m Princess Leia?”

“I mean,” You exaggerated, prolonging the word out in the air and making this face at her. “It’s better than being dead as Juliet. And Romeo too.”

She laughs harder, and you can’t help but get drawn into it too. It’s contagious, her energy, her teasing, her everything.

Eventually it dies down to small giggles and chuckles, and you’re back to having that comfortable silence with her. Then she stands up and turns to you, arm outstretched towards you. “Come on Romeo, still gotta get you something.”

“Are you trying to cheapskate by getting me a seashell?” A grin appears on your face as you let yourself be dragged away by her once more.

“Don’t forget about the fireworks.” She tosses over her shoulder, hurrying the both of you towards the sand, kicking off her shoes. You tug off your own, taking both pairs with you, leaving footprints down as you follow her into the grain.

The cold salty breeze of the sea hits you, and you see Somi waving to some of the people she passes by. Her hair flows down her back as the wind blows through, tilting her head back to feel the air, smiling as she closes her eyes. You wish you can take a photo of her because fucking hell is she beautiful.

Her head’s turning before you can, that familiar playful glint in her eye alongside a warmth that you’ve been craving for. So much so you’re unconsciously letting a smile break out of your face.

“What?” She asks, lips curling, as if she already knows where this is going. “Does Romeo have something to say?”

You don’t speak, only walk forward. Somi’s an arm’s length away when you drop your shoes onto the sand and take a hold of her, wrapping your arm around her waist, another resting on her cheek. She doesn’t pull away, if anything she leans into you, her own arms closing around your neck, and before you can act on kissing her, she’s pulling you instead.

Everything fades when her lips meet yours; All you can feel is how soft she is, the faint taste of fishcake and lemon hitting your tastebuds, her fingers threading around your hair. The way her cheek leans into your hand, the heat of her body molding to yours.

It’s different, not unlike every other kiss you’ve had with her. Desire, arousal, whatever you call it, it’s muted, replaced with warmth, joy, love. Less of a flicker and more of a flame, slowly gaining strength and settling within.

When she pulls away for air, the sight of her grinning is the first thing you see, breathless, eyes brighter than the shine of the moon. “Love you.” She utters, pecking your lips briefly, arms resting on your chest.

You only tilt your head, resting your forehead on hers, hands staying on her waist, keeping her close. You press your lips against hers, and it’s all the words she needs to feel how much you love her too.

A crack in the air splits the moment, making you turn your head to see bright lights in the air, the first wave of fireworks bursting into rainbows, crossing the dark skies.

“Told you this was the best view.” She says, eyes reflecting the colors in the clouds, the sounds of people cheering in the background muffled by all the cracking in the sky. 

You’re still holding her close as you watch the night get infected with the festival’s energy, each explosion painting the stars. The colors dance on the both of you—gold, crimson, azure—and you just can’t get enough of staring at her. 

“Ten out of ten.” You let out, no longer afraid of being caught by her. The smile on her face says she knows you’re talking about her, just like she did back at the festival. She doesn’t tease this time, accepting it instead.

Eventually the pauses between each wave of fireworks get longer, and you’re left with the sound of the waves crashing, the crowd splitting up into silent murmurs.

She sighs out, a small one, but you can feel the weight of everything leaving her. A laugh slips out, that familiar, joking little laugh with a hint of friskiness behind it.

“So,” A tug of your hand, and you’re heading back to the path out of the beach, passing by to pick up your shoes. “Wanna head back to the hotel and fuck all night?”

“Somi-”

“No, no.” She clarifies, swinging her arm and yours follow. “Romeo needs to realize that I love him. So I need to show him how much I do.”

…Oh.

There’s no teasing in there; Just pure honest resolve coming out. And when the words from before and now finally start to sink in, and your heart start to beat faster from the desire and the warmth that comes with all the implications of them. Physical, emotional, mental, spiritual.

Wasn’t just you thinking it’s all about fucking for her anymore. Not after that. You were just too wrapped up in your own thoughts to see the bigger picture. 

Maybe you did overthink things.

You don’t even feel her tugging you for a kiss, your name whispering out her lips. “I want this. I want you. No bullshit.”

And she means it. You believe her. With everything that she’s saying and doing and wanting and needing.

“I want you too. All of you.”

“Good.” She grins, and that was the brightest thing you’ve ever seen today. “Cause you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

—

If there’s one thing that you didn’t regret paying for, it’s the hotel room. It wasn’t a suite or anything high-end nor was it any of the simple ones. It was the type after that, with the softer bed, the balcony view, a bigger TV—overall, just better.

So when you’re pushed down on the couch, Somi climbing on top of you, tongue shoved down your throat, you’re glad that the couch was pretty soft. You’re also glad that you can feel her tits pressing up against your chest when you kiss back.

She rolls her hips and gives your lower lip a bite that just fucks you up; She knows it too, when she grins and steals another kiss. Your hands rests on her waist, still rocking, grinding onto you. 

Somi’s everywhere; Resting on your shoulders, playing with your hair, slipping underneath your shirt. All the while her tongue is fighting yours, your own hands playing with the edges of her shirt.

You can feel your cock stirring, thickening underneath your pants, and it encourages her, keeping the slow pace that’s driving you insane.

“Someone’s enjoying this.” Her hands finally rest on your chest, face inches away from yours, that damn grin plastered on her face. She does it again, slower this time, and the sigh that comes out of her sounded like heaven on earth. Her grin widens, eyes flicking down to where you’re straining underneath your pants. “Really enjoying it.”

“Hey,” You squeeze a hip, smiling. “You fuck yourself on my lap like that, it’s kinda hard not to.” 

She hums, bringing your hands up to her tits, squeezing them over the shirt, molding them to be yours once more. You’ve felt her breasts so many times, through fabric, lace, bare, and you’ll never get tired of being able to have the privilege to cup them in your hands.

“God, Somi,” You groan, both from the way she’s forcing you to grope her chest—you’re into it as much as she is—and the way her hips are still rolling. She’s always been enthusiastic about sex, but this, this felt different. This is her offering everything, heart, body, and soul.

It wasn’t about her pleasure tonight. It was about yours.

“Does Romeo need help?” She asks, grinding, circling her weight down on you, making you squeeze harder on her tits. Intentional or not, she didn't care, all she does is let out another laugh because she knows you’re this close to throwing her to the bed.

She doesn’t wait for you to reply, take action, anything. Somi’s sinking down on her knees with this greedy, hungry look, her fingers making quick work of your belt buckle as she pushes your pants and your boxers down, your throbbing cock freed.

You know what’s going to happen; She’s done this so many times, she’s perfected the art of it. And you can’t wait.

“Fuck-” Somi licks her lips, wrapping a hand around you. She jerks you off slowly as she settles in between your legs, getting closer to your cock. You can feel her breath being so damn close. “Gonna worship you tonight baby.”

And the way she drags her tongue from the tip to the base in one agonizingly slow lick makes you wanna just, shit, you don’t even know. She was hot, wet, too damn slow, your cock twitching in her hand as she went back up to your head.

The next few minutes were her tongue tracing along your cock, leaving kisses where she knows you’re weak to, leaving your cock covered in spit, and she hasn’t even taken it in her mouth yet. 

She’s a damn tease, leaving you dying from the pleasure, arms gripping the couch as you let her do whatever she wanted with your cock. Her hands aren’t idle, stroking your spit-laden cock, playing with your balls, breathy little moans coming out of her mouth when she twirls her tongue on the tip.

You’re this close to begging, the need to thrust into her lips growing higher. But you won’t. Even though this is for you, it’s her play, and you’re here to enjoy the show.

You don’t even realize you called her name out, only that a smile appears on her face when she starts licking past the base of your cock and down to your balls. She takes one of them into her mouth, wetting them, her hot breath enveloping, encapsulating.

And the way she sucks on them, God it was like she wanted to kill you. Her tongue coating one, two, both, while her hands were playing with your shaft, jerking you, using her nails to trace the veins, thumbing the tip of your cock.

Somi’s a fucking menace, and she knows it. 

“Still alive?” She mutters, letting your balls go with a pop, sucking in her spit, drooling it all over your cock, making such a pretty mess of you.

“I need,” You’re desperate, panting, your own hands finding solace in her hair, resting, gripping, cock painfully wanting her mouth on it. You can’t even fucking talk, because this wasn’t pleasure, it was torture.

“Tell me.” She says, mouth hovering over your tip, letting out these pants that make your cock ache even more. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Somi-” You can’t. Not when she’s fucking teasing you with her tongue, running it all over your tip, those brown eyes darkening with a need for your cock, your words, your end.

“Come on, Romeo.” You can barely call it jerking off with how much she’s slowed her hands down. “You can do it.”

“Shit, need you-” You’re thrusting your hips, throwing away your pride to silently beg instead of telling her what you want.

“Just one word, baby.”

“Somi, please-”

And her mouth takes you. All of you.

You swear a bell rang out the moment her lips came into contact with your cock, because the only thing you can see is white, and she’s the angel that’s coming to bring you to Heaven.

Once she takes your entire length, she stops, holding you there inside of her throat. Her tongue’s flat under your shaft, trying to move and get a taste of your balls. You don’t know how long she’s had your cock in her mouth, and you don’t care. You already lost count when she got on her knees.

She pulls back, spit coating her chin, dripping down her shirt. Strings of them are still connecting her lips to your cock as she wraps them back into you, sucking on the tip, tongue working all over, and her hands are back to pumping you.

“So good,” She lets out, lips still making out with your tip, giving you a cheeky wink that is making you lose your fucking mind. She takes more of you, mouth so damn hot, cock drowning how it’s getting wetter, cheeks hollowing as she starts to suck.

You thought you were dying when it was just her tongue. You’re six feet under when she starts bobbing her head on your cock, and she isn’t just worshipping. Fuck that, this is murder. 

There’s no method to her madness. She’ll go with slow, shallow, deep strokes, memorizing every inch, every vein of your cock that makes your toes curl. Suddenly she ramps it up to eleven and fucks her face on your cock, burying you inside of her throat, bracing yourself by gripping her hair tighter. Or she’ll be doing it somewhere in-between, her tongue flicking the tip, hands jerking you, eyes staring into yours.

“You love this, don’t you.” It’s a statement, one she makes after she’s throated your cock. You can’t let out a response when she’s coming back down, lips making out with your tip instead of going back down to the base.

You’re losing your fucking mind. Every time you thought she’d settle into a rhythm, she switches it up, keeping you on your toes, lips grinning, tiny little giggles coming out of her while she’s giving your cock the best blowjob you’ve ever had.

“Fucking adore this cock.” Your cock’s pushing against her cheeks, giving you this one hell of a view. “And it’s all mine.”

Her eyes did not fucking help. Every flick of her tongue, stroke of her hand, bob of her head. Those dark eyes did not leave yours. She’s already ruined you for anyone else, but this is ruining you.

The only thing you can do is let out these weak groans, moans that were borderline begging, just trying to hang on to the ride she’s giving you.

“God–” She starts, spitting another batch of saliva down your cock, her entire face a mess with spit and . “I could do this all night.”

Somi loves it. You know she does. Relishing in it, thriving off of every flex of your leg, every twitch of your fingers, every thrust of your hips.

It’s fueling her, knowing that you’re letting her do anything she wants to you. It’s a goddamn power trip, and she lets you feel how much she’s enjoying you wrapped around her pretty lips.

The moans she’s letting out causing those vibrations to spread all over your cock. The gags that follow were fucking filthy, so wet, so raw. Her throat’s pulsing, contracting around you whenever she takes you down all the damn way. Every choke is a sign of victory that keeps her going, fingers digging your thighs, spit leaking down her mouth.

She pops off of your cock, sucking in a breath. You heard it differently. Messy, needy, undeniably Somi. She’s grinning as she comes back to sliding her tongue over your shaft, spit all over the place.

Somi was not lying when she’ll be worshipping your cock tonight. She’s staking her claim on you, letting you know that nobody else can do it like she can. She’s in the top 1 percent of sucking dick, and you’re extremely lucky to have met this whirlwind of a woman.

“Gimme.” She doesn’t bother asking if you’re close. She can see you’ve been wanting to burst ever since she put her lips on you. “Gimme all that cum, baby. I’ll take all of it. Mouth, face, anywhere you fucking want.”

“Somi–” You growl, teeth gritting, the urge to ruin her entire face with your load at an all time high. Your hands pull her hair, signaling where you want it. “Fa–shit, babe. All over your face.”

“Yeah?” Somi’s stroking you faster, eyes locking with yours, sticking her tongue out as she opens wide. She’s just as fucked as you were, hair all messy from the pushing and pulling you’ve done, strands of it sticking to her flushed cheeks, spit running down her chin.

She’s the filthiest she’s ever been on her knees, and all the nasty things she’s saying, every single word that comes out of her mouth, that sent you over the edge.

“Gonna ruin me? Cover me in your cum? Turn me into your cumdump–ah!”

You're all over her. On her forehead, over her eye, on top of her nose. She’s gasping, moaning, reveling in your cum. She’s getting messier, cum on her hair, her cheeks, her lips.

“Fuck yes,” She draws out, licking her lips, having a taste. “Always so much cum.”

It’s a damn shame you couldn’t commit the view to memory because all you can feel is how good it was when Somi’s jerking you off, covering herself in you. It felt even better when she shoves herself back down her throat, swallowing the last few drops.

You groan, feeling her cheeks hollow out one last time, draining you of the last few drops you let out. You finally get a good view of her after the fallout of your orgasm, and she is drenched in white, one eye closed, lips stretched in a smile even with your cock sandwiching them. 

She pulls your cock out of her lips, and she grins while you’re still sitting on the couch reeling from whatever the fuck that was.

“Oh my God,” You sear her cum-streaked face into your brain, her shirt wet from the spit and cum, because holy shit does she look shamelessly ecstatic with how dirty she is while you’re still remembering how to breathe. “You’re just–what the fuck?”

Somi laughs, tongue flicking out to catch a drop of cum sticking to her lips. Her fingers aren’t idle too, scooping up the cum and sucking them clean. “That’s one.”

“What, are we–” You adjust yourself, watching how she cleans herself up of your cum. Every stray, every glob of it lands on her mouth, and she’s enjoying it like it’s ice cream. “Are we keeping score?”

She smirks, hands dropping down to grip the hem of her shirt, and she’s pulling it over her head, landing somewhere behind her—you don’t care—showing a lacy black bra. 

“Round two?” The bra comes off too, and you’re left looking at two very convincing arguments to keep going.

Then she’s coming back down to your cock, giving you these lazy licks, cleaning you up, taking care of you. You consider it the third argument, your cock stirring, twitching back upwards.

“Come on, Romeo. My tits still need to be fucked.” She says, cupping said breasts, giving them a good squeeze. She leans down, letting a trickle of her spit fall down between them; You are so fucking screwed.

Somi’s pulling your hands to her tits, holding them over her hands. You already had a feel of them earlier, but God are they—she—the best you’ve ever held in your arms. 

“Relax, baby.” And she’s wrapping her perfect fucking tits around you, soft, warm, killer. “Just enjoy.”

She starts slow. Tits sliding up and down your cock, hands pressing around her chest. Yours, hers, it didn’t matter. She presses tighter, the pressure, pleasure, both increasing as every pump between them sends your already sensitive cock to another orgasm.

“Holy shit,” You groan, because it’s the only thing you can do. She has you wrapped around her finger, her tits, her tongue, which is occasionally licking your tip whenever it peaks and God, this is going to make you cum so damn fast.

“You can move, you know.” She’s even encouraging you to, letting out another glob of spit down her breasts, moving faster. “Fuck my tits, fuck them like you own them.”

And you do. You thrust up, once, experimental, and she slides down. Then another. Your hands settle on her shoulders. Another thrust. She squeezes tighter. The tempo goes faster.

“That’s it. Use my tits. Make a mess all over them. Want to feel it all in my tits, baby.” Somi’s riling you up again with all the dirty words that come out of her mouth. “Your slut wants more of your cum. Please. Please.”

Her shoulders are your lifeline, pumping faster, her tits bouncing with each stroke. She’s biting her lip, watching you—eager, hungry, devoted—fall apart under the slick, warm cushion of her breasts.

It’s all sending you closer to pumping another load onto her. Her tits, her face, her moans. It’s like you’re in a lucid dream with the way it all feels. Soft, tight, wet, it’s all too much for you, and that aching in your stomach is coming back too strong, too fast.

You’re so fucked out of your mind from earlier that your pace doesn’t last. Your rhythm stutters, and she picks up right where you left off, even faster than you did.

“Yeah, that’s it–” She’s gasping, her hot breath teasing you with every thrust. “Cum for me. Come on, baby, give me more.”

She puts her tongue back in the mix, leaning down to flick the head, and that makes you lose control.

Your hand takes a hold of her cheek as you give one last pump, hot spurts painting her chest, filling her cleavage, lining her collarbone.

Somi’s still fucking her tits on your cock, milking you for every last drop and you’re left shaking. Legs, hips, it didn’t matter. All you know is that you’re cumming for her, and her chest is your next canvas.

And when you’ve given her what she’s wanted, you’re slumping back, vision foggy, body suffering from the pleasure that Somi’s has brought before you. 

She’s grinning, giggling, laughing. Your cum’s all over her, dripping down, sticking onto her like glue, a pearl necklace fashioned over her. She’s licking the cum off her tits, scooping up the bits she can’t, having her second serving of your cum for the night.

She’s making a performance out of it, now and before, when she cleans herself up. Drawn out moans, hums, teasing little giggles. Eyes holding yours.

“So,” Somi takes a hold of your cock, lips on you once more, and it’s more painful than pleasurable this time. She’s still hungry for more and shit, you are too. Hungry for her.

“Shower?”

—

You didn’t even make it to the shower when you decided to pick her up, place her on the marble counter, pull her jeans down, and push her thong to the side. She was drenched, her pussy glistening, dripping in arousal. And you are starving.

Your mouth is on her pretty lips, tongue swiping everywhere. Teasing her slit with slow, teasing licks, fucking her entrance with your tongue, flicking her clit with your thumb. She’s trying to drown you with her juices, the taste of her so sweet and pungent.

“Keep going–fuck, right there–” She’s gasping, cursing, grinding on your mouth. Her soft thighs are wrapping around your face, pulling you deeper, nails digging into your scalp. The pleasure’s taking over her entire being, filth spewing out of her mouth.

You’re holding her thighs, forcing them apart before you start to fuck her with your fingers—two—while your tongue moves to flicking her clit. Her walls are squeezing them, tight, wet, hot.

“Oh my God,” Somi’s panting, watching you feast on her pussy, tracking the hand that gave her thigh a little slap—a warning—before you reach upwards to cup one of her tits, feeling how good it molds to your touch.

You pinch a bud just as you curl your fingers insider her, hitting her right where you know will fuck her up even more. And she does, moaning, squirming, trembling all for you.

“I’m so close–please, please, please–” Somi’s singing you praises, hips thrusting into you, wanting to chase that high that you’ve been holding her back from, edging her from achieving it.

Until you decided that she’s been a good enough girl for you and started pumping your fingers and your tongue faster. You grope her breast harder, watch her fall apart for you, her voice peaking, begging. Her pussy making these filthy noises with each thrust of your fingers.

You give her tit another greedy grope, and you raise your hand to give it a rough slap. That’s enough to send her spiraling, reeling, cumming.

“Fuck–fuck–fuck–” Somi’s shaking, thighs quivering, back arching as the pleasure consumes her. You’re fucking her all throughout it, sucking her clit. She’s dripping down your fingers, your chin, the counter.

“Shit, baby–” Somi’s pushing your head off, her own resting back onto the mirror behind her. Her legs are still twitching as you stand up, caressing them. “This payback from earlier or what–”

“A guy can’t eat his girlfriend out?” You peck her lips, one of your hands reaching up to cup her tits as the other is brushing up the inside of her thighs.

“Make that two and a half then.” She chuckles, and for a second there her eyes had this loving glint, layered with the normal teasing gleam in them.

“Now, seriously. Shower and then we make it three.”

—

“Cumming!”

Somi’s wrapping her legs around your waist, back against the glass, pussy tightening around your cock. Her chocolate hair is sticking on her face, wet from the warm water that was falling around your bodies.

Her toes are curling as you pound her throughout her orgasm, her arms pulling you tighter, moaning profanities into your ear while you readjust your grip on her ass and give her slow, deep thrusts to keep you from slipping under the tiles.

“Harder–fuck–fuck me harder–” Her pussy’s gushing around you, thighs shaking, holding onto you for dear life as you slowly start to thrust faster. “Want, want your cum inside–shit–”

You grunt as her nails start to dig into your back, burying your face into her neck, biting hard enough to leave marks. She whimpers, legs locking around you, pussy somehow squeezing you tighter, and it’s getting to you.

Her soft, big tits pressed against your chest, her sighs directly reverberating into your ears combined with the sound of wet flesh slapping together, pussy clenching everytime you hit her g-spot.

It’s making you want to go faster, harder, deeper. You’re getting desperate to chase your high, all because of Somi. 

“‘M close.” You groan just as she cries out, her pussy pulsing, another climax approaching her body. She pulls away from your neck to press her lips against yours—needy, loving moans humming out of her as she tangles her fingers into her hair.

And that was all it took to make you cum, slamming into her, spilling your cum deep inside, the ecstasy crashing over your body as you lean forward to have the shower glass support the both of you. 

Somi’s shaking, milking you of every drop, screams echoing around the bathroom as she experiences another wave of pleasure rippling her entire body. 

The sound of water falling and breathing is the only thing left filling the air, the both of you clinging to each other to bask in the afterglow.

“Fuck, Romeo.” She giggles, forehead pressing against yours. “First you go down on me, now this?”

“What can I say,” You nuzzle back into her neck, leaving a kiss over one of the hickeys you’ve left her. ��You got me all worked up back on the couch.”

And she laughs, head tilting back, and even with the water blinding you she looks so beautiful.

—

Your hands were busy groping her soft, full ass when she straddles you, back facing your chest as she rubs her pussy on your length before she eases herself down. She’s taking all of you, pussy dripping, heat wrapping around.

“God, this cock,” She sighs, arching her back. “Still so hard for me.”

You’re loving the way her pussy’s clenching around you, taking your length every time Somi bounced that tight ass of hers. Your hold on her ass tightens when she starts to pick up speed, that rhythmic sound of skin hitting skin starting to permeate the air.

It’s a symphony of moans spilling out of lips, creaks of the bed underneath you, and wet slicks of her pussy gripping your cock playing in the room, and you had the best view in the house when she starts to roll her hips like that.

“Babe, what–what the fuck–” The next few seconds were spent spouting out the dumbest shit you’ve ever said in your life, because the moment she leaned forward and popped her ass out even more to fuck herself on your cock you were losing mental capacity by the second.

“Want it slow?” She slows down and turns her head to look at you. It’s torture hidden in paradise, the pace she’s bouncing almost stopping to a crawl. “Or fast?”

“Whatever you want, just, you–” You can’t help but crash your hand down on her ass, the smack rippling the air. Somi takes it the wrong—or right, who gives a fuck—way and starts to ride you, picking up right where she left off; Ruining you.

She’s unrelenting now, fucking herself on your cock, that hypnotizing ripple of her ass staring back at you, drawing you in, drowning you. From the way she’s moving her hips, hitting every deep spot inside her on every drop of her ass, the curses that she’s singing; It’s all so fucking devilishly heavenly.

Hands grip the sheets, holding on for dear life as she’s getting more and more unhinged with how she’s slamming down on you. One of them reaches up to her ass, that goddamn ass that looks so fuckable, you can’t stop yourself from sliding your thumb over her asshole.

“Y-Yeah?” She’s too lost in her own pleasure to give out any sort of decent reply, her voice coming out as whimpers and moans and cries of pleasure in between all of it. “Want, want my ass again don’t you Romeo–”

You push your finger in the entrance, and she starts to break.

“Oh shit–” She gets impossibly tight as she starts convulsing, toes curling, body falling, hips still fucking fucking. One last slam of her ass and she’s lost it, moans, whimpers, screams; All in a span of a few moments.

You take it as a sign to move. Leave another slap on her ass as you sit upright and pull her towards you, falling back down as you start to fuck her, chasing after your own orgasm, the want to give another coating of your load inside of her growing higher and higher.

Hands grab everywhere; Her tight stomach, heavy tits, her neck. You’re not letting her rest after her climax as you give her neck a little squeeze, her cunt clenching around you, and that makes you see stars.

She’s coming with you when she’s pulled for a kiss, sloppy and needy and so adoring. Tongues are fighting when you’re buried deep inside her, taking every single drop of hot white cum. She’s groaning, feeling all of you pour into her.

And when it ends, you’re both catching your breath, 

“You might end up killing me tonight.” She mutters, leaving these little pecks and kisses over your jaw, your cheeks, your lips.

“You’ll do me in first.” You reply, hands coming back down to wrap around her waist as you pull out, feeling your spunk leak out onto the sheets.

She giggles like she always does, leaving another kiss on your lips, cheeks flushing from uttering the next words that come out of her. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Somi.” You grin. Two simple words and you’re getting all giddy again. “Love you too.”

—

You two didn’t really stop.

There were breaks in between, of course. Get a glass of water, have short cuddly moments, make out sessions before she pulls you into another round. Or vice versa.

It’s a back and forth, really.

She drags you outside to rail her in the balcony, the cool air hitting the both of you as the view of the beach greets you. Somi’s loud, uncaring of the nearby rooms as you pump her cunt full of another load.

You have her head dangling off the side of the bed, fucking her face, lodging your cock down her throat. Spit’s running down her face as she takes every inch of you, trying—and failing—to finger herself in time with your thrusts while you’re holding onto her tits until she can drink all of the cum that you’ll inevitably feed her.

Somi’s shoving you back down the couch, cock up her ass as she rides you. Her tits are fucking hypnotizing, and you’re latching onto one of her buds, sucking, swirling, nipping. She’s crying out, shoving you deeper into her cleavage as you fill her ass.

You’re fucking her on top of the table, her back scraping the wood. She’s pulling your hands to her tits, giving one of them a slap before pinching her hard nub, another staying down to rub her clit. You leave a kiss on her forehead as you cum together.

She’s on top of you again—on the bed this time—as she grinds her hips, her walls gripping, pulsing around your cock. She took it slow, deliberate, teasing, enjoying how much you’re squirming underneath her. Her nubs are brushing against your chest as she locks lips with yours, all tongue, until your legs lock up and you’re cumming inside her.

The hotel was a complete mess by the time you two were done.

You ended up back on the bed, the both of you spent. Your cock is aching from the amount of times you came in the last few (How long were you two fucking?) hours while her cunt’s leaking all the cum you’ve dumped inside of her.

Somi’s draping an arm over your chest, her fingers tracing shapes on your skin. That ring you gave her never came off the entire night.

“Nine’s a hell of a record.” She smiles, curling up to you, breathing heavy from all the activities. “Best night of my life.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, playing with her hair. “Tell that to my dick.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.” She slaps your chest, light, teasing. “You loved it.”

“You’re not wrong.” You leave a kiss on her forehead. “I do.”

“Love you too.” She smiles, reaching up to give you a kiss. She’s warm, that tingly feeling rising out of your stomach. You’re both grinning into the kiss, slow, deep, hands cupping her face, hers resting on your chest.

The next few minutes were spent talking about the random things that crossed your minds.

Shit like showers—

“We’re gonna need another shower.” 

“I’m too sore.”

“I can probably carry–”

“...I take it back. I can’t move either.”

Getting Aeri back for ratting you out—

“You seriously think Aeri would hook up with him of all people?”

“I mean, they kinda already did.”

“What the hell, since when?”

“The night after they fucked–”

“Don’t be a smartass, Romeo.”

The plans tomorrow—

“We’re hitting the beach tomorrow.”

“You just want to see me in a bikini.”

“And maybe dunk you in the water. But yeah. Bikini.”

Somi being a lovingly clingy idiot for the first time—

“Love me.”

“I am loving you.”

“You’re not doing it enough.”

It was dumb, pointless, and sorta ironic. From the quiet moments that you wanted and the copious amounts of sex you tried to avoid, it felt oddly worth it.

And it was just the first day. You don’t know whether you should be jumping for joy or scared for your life.

But you can’t say that you can ask for anything else—

“Wanna have another go to round it up?”

“Somi–”

Now, if there is such a word that combines happiness and fear, that would be what you’re feeling right now.

Still worth it.

[redpulsive]

SYLUS ⋆˚✿˖° grinding/dryhumping

18+ Minors DNI

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣

This is just kind of a yappathon/hc thing about Sylus being a grinding machine, literally dryhumper9000 in TWO fucking cards now. Night of Secrecy and Valleydream Bloom both have kiss scenes where this man is ON TOP of you and MOVING FOWARDS while eating your face (love that for us)

Here’s a wonderful example of what I’m talking about. Anyway, I’m just going to babble about this in bullet points from here. (Believe me, it gets better and more imaginative the more you read my nonsense)

Imagine him putting his WHOLE body weight on you, literally welded against him while he’s grinding into you and kissing you senseless… ‼️

This man is HUGE, he is HEAVY, he is absolutely ENGULFING you when he’s on top and taking initiative

I feel like it’s his favorite thing to do ever. You’re already below him, tf are you supposed to do now? He’s got you trapped for a barrage of kisses and love bites, that’s your new spot for the next few hours!

Breathless and overstimulated. Fulfilled, yet always yearning for more.

I just KNOW he talks to you the whole time too, like you cannot make out anything going around the two of you. He’s got all five of your senses in a dizzy chokehold as he murmurs sweet nothings, praises and his desires while you can hardly think straight.

Oh and he whines and whimpers during it too, there’s just something so primal and intoxicating about it that he doesn’t hold back any of his sounds and words.

I feel like he always gets so needy and eager at first. Like he’s not necessarily going fast, but his hips are kinda snappy to get his point across. On the other hand, his kisses are pretty relentless. ALTHOUGH, as the two of you get so intoxicated and dryhumped out, his actions become more and more lazy but sooooo very passionate.

Your hearts are pounding together as your breathless gasps mingle between insanely languid and lingering kisses, his hips rolling into yours with the same energy as a flame of a candle wick dying out on its own. Giggling and kicking my feet.

Now, while I do think grinding in missionary is his favorite way of going about it, I just know he’s a sucker for you grinding on his lap when you want to have control. Oh my god, don’t get me started, this man is squeezing your ass and the backs of your thighs trying to keep you as close to him as possible.

He probably couldn’t help himself and grind his hips up against yours. Especially when he’s got the skin of your neck/shoulder between his teeth, like he’s scruffing you and keeping you still.

But don’t tease him too much, he’d let you get away with it a few times but if you keep pushing his buttons he will flip you onto your back and tease YOU instead.

THIGH GRINDING, Oh my god no one talks about this, if you want some action on a day where he has no stamina he will gladly let you sit on his thigh and grind against it. Godddd imagine his groggy voice saying things like “Go on, kitten. Keep using me until you’re satisfied. I don’t want you to stop until you get your fill.” While he’s looking you with hazy eyes and massaging your hip(s) or thigh(s). Maybe he’d read a book or drink some wine while he’s at it, give you some kisses here and there to keep you engaged. Or maybe if he’s TOO tired he’ll rest his face against your chest and listen to your rapid heartbeat as your movements rock his head.

I’m a little abnormal rn

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣

[rensukepie]

#. ✧.* haikyuu twt p☆rn links — various characters

✧. contains + warnings : NSFW video links, p in v, f!ngering, pussay eating, etc.

✧. a/n : AS ALWAYS, MDNI! (characters are in the timeskip!)

✧. atsumu miya

usual mornings with tsumu :3

he thinks your boobs are so pretty

this is the reason why he pays for your nails every time

hes so needy that he had to interrupt you while youre working on something

he’s so immature and childish :((

him and virgin!reader <3

✧. sakusa kiyoomi

kiyoomi likes to fuck his pretty girl from the back <3

he loves mirror sex :3

“do you like when i touch you there, baby?” :((

when he catches you fucking yourself on a dildo instead of his cock :((

who knew he could get you so soaked?

this just screams sakusa :3

✧. iwaizumi hajime

haji’s so rough on your poor pussy :(

him and his big cock

the type to tease you before he puts it in

how can one pretty girl turn him on so much?

he cancelled dinner with his friends bc you looked too good and couldnt resist <3

so deep inside of you

✧. suna rintaro

sucking his cock for the first time :33

taking care of his smart & hardworking girl

his favorite view <3

riding him

fingering your needy cunt

suna loses himself while he’s inside of you :3

✧. bokuto kotarou

creampie :3

fucking you on your girly bed <3

big cock!bokuto :3

you after whining to bokuto that “its too big for you”

such a greedy pussy you have <3

mirror sex

✧. osamu miya

when you’re samu’s fav worker at onigiri miya :3

new lingerie that he buys for you gets him hard for you :((

what happens when you do try on hauls for him :3

making him feel good

samu’s too big for you :( his cock fits so snug inside

riding his face <3

✧. kuroo tetsurou

fucking you after his work shift

kissing while he plays with your sensitive boobs :3

making sure you keep your legs open for him

obsessed with your pussy <3

your hole is so needy for his fingers :((

all the gifts he’s given you are all over your bed while he pounds into you :3

[ellewritesx]

terms of service

(part two of the sugar, baby series)

Summary: Before he can break you in, he needs to know exactly where you break.

Warnings: sugardaddy arrangement, fingering, oral (f!receiving), use of vibrator, mention of handcuffs, blindfolding, a panic attack, repeated use of safe words, a ton of ''good girl'' (oops), dom!Harry, it just gets kind of intense guys

A/N: i had so much fun writing this and i've got sooo much still in store for the series! i have no idea how this ended up being almost 5k words cause it feels shorter than anything else i've written but yk what i'll take it. let me know if you like this x

Word Count: 4,870

...

The morning after that first night with Harry, you wake up to the shrill buzz of your phone, a new notification lighting up the cracked screen. Bleary-eyed, you swipe it open and freeze. Your stomach drops. You blink once. Twice. But the number doesn't change.

Ten thousand dollars.

Deposited directly into your checking account at six o'clock in the morning. For a moment, all you can do is sit there, fingers trembling slightly where they clutch the device, heart hammering against your ribs like it's trying to punch its way free. It feels unreal, like a glitch in the system, like some impossibly generous mistake you should scramble to correct.

Before you can spiral too far, another notification rolls in.

Harry: For your trouble. Don't get any ideas, it won't always be this generous.

You don't know if he's joking.

Still in your pajamas, still half-numb, you stumble over to the kitchen table and open your laptop. In a daze, you pay off two months' rent in advance. Clear the electricity bill that's been relentlessly stacking up with threatening red letters. Kill the last of your credit card debt, the looming, gnawing anxiety that's been a permanent fixture in your life for as long as you can remember. With one click, it all vanishes. Just like that. You release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You sit back in the wobbly wooden chair and stare at the zeros. No debts to pay off. Rent covered for months. You blink slowly, feeling weightless and heavy all at once.

You should cry. You'd expected you would. But no tears come. Only a heavy, eerie kind of calm. Like you were standing on the edge of something vast and bottomless and have just taken your first step backwards, away from the deep end.

Later that afternoon, your phone pings again.

Harry: Quit the fucking cafe. Waste of time.

You stare at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. It would be so easy. To type out a resignation email, walk out of that dingy little shop with its sticky counters and fluorescent lights that make your head ache, and never look back. To let Harry sweep you up and off your feet and stay at home, maybe pursue a hobby.

But you don't. You type out a short, almost defiant reply. Can't. I like it.

You don't explain that working keeps you tethered to yourself. That hard work isn't just something you do; it's part of who you are. You've never had anything handed to you before. You've worked for every scrap, every small victory, every breath of air above water. Walking away from that would feel too much like walking away from yourself, even if a selfish, aching part of you wants to.

You wonder if your answer will piss him off. You wonder why a wicked little part of you wants it to.

When he doesn't reply, you expect to be iced out. Canceled. Game over before it even begins. It makes your stomach churn in fear. But the next day, after a particularly exhausting shift, a message comes through, curt and demanding:

Harry: Come to mine tonight. 9PM. Need to finalize terms.

His tone is sharp and professional, but something about it makes a subtle anticipation bloom between your legs anyway. You spend an hour picking out an outfit, second-guessing yourself the whole time. In the end, you settle on something simple. Comfortable, but soft. Easy to take off. You tell yourself it's practicality, but the fluttering in your stomach calls you a liar.

You take the bus to his place, cringing at the cost of a ticket until you remember that you've got more than enough money now. Hell, you could've ordered a limousine if you'd liked.

You never visit this part of the city. The people here wear designer sunglasses that cost more than a year's worth of your salary (besides, what's the point of wearing sunglasses when it's nearly pitch-black outside?), peering over them at you like they can sense that you're not like them. That you don't belong here.

When you knock on his door, Harry answers immediately, like he's been standing just behind it, waiting. His lingers in the doorway, broad shoulders framed in a loose black hoodie, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his curls damp like he's just stepped out of the shower. The faint smell of vanilla and mint clings to his skin, warm and heady in the cool night air.

He leans against the doorframe, appraising you silently for a moment with those unreadable green eyes, and something tightens inside your chest. You wonder if he notices the dark circles under your eyes you've tried covering up, exhaustion having clawed its way into your skin, unrelenting. You wonder if he resents it, a reminder that you aren't fully his yet. That you still belong, even a little, to a life outside of what he's trying to build around you.

''Come in,'' he says finally, voice low and gravelly. It's not a request.

You step inside, heart hammering.

"You're late," he says without looking at you, voice dry, turning his back on you and walking back into the apartment like he already knows you'll follow.

Your breath stutters. "Five minutes."

He only shrugs, like it doesn't matter, like you don't matter, and maybe you don't, but something in the way he leaves the door open, wide and waiting, soothes the sting a little. An invitation, even if it's a sharp-edged one.

The apartment smells like expensive cologne and the faintest trace of smoke, like he aired it out but not quite enough. The lighting is low, casting long, moody shadows across the heavy furniture: sleek, cold, and obscenely rich. Dark leather sofas. A steel-and-glass coffee table. No rugs, no paintings, no photos. No personal touches at all. You take a few cautious steps inside, pulse thrumming, letting your eyes roam while he moves into the kitchen.

The place feels like a model home. It's sterile. Hollow. Like a space meant to impress but never to be lived in. There are no family portraits, no framed snapshots of drunken nights with friends, no messy piles of mail or keys on the counters. Just the necessities. Barely even that. You wonder what kind of person chooses to live like this. You wonder if he even notices the loneliness curling in the corners of the room, or if he's too used to it by now to care.

You hear the clink of glass behind you; Harry fixing himself a drink. Something amber and expensive sloshes into a crystal tumbler. Without asking, he pours a second drink, slightly lighter, and sets it down on the counter with a muted tap.

Decided for you, like everything else. You take a small sip. It's good. He knows you better than you think.

When he finally turns back to face you, he's cradling his drink lazily in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants. He cocks his head, surveying you like you're something he's bought and isn't quite sure he's satisfied with yet.

"Clothes off,'' he orders without ceremony, without even offering the barest pretense of conversation or kindness.

You blink, caught off-guard by the bluntness of it, the complete lack of foreplay, not sexual, but social. No small talk. No polite lies to smooth the way. Just a command.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, the blood in your veins boiling unpleasantly with offense. It's not like you didn't know what this was (you agreed to it, after all), but still, something about the way he dismisses any human interaction and social norms you're used to stings a little more than you're prepared for. Like you're less a person, more an object now. A thing he's purchased fair and square, and can use however he sees fit.

For a split second, you hesitate. The frown that flickers across your face is small, barely there, but it flashes quick and instinctive before you can school your features.

And Harry sees it. Of course he does. His eyes sharpen, a glint of something unreadable flickering behind the casual facade. He lifts the tumbler to his mouth, sips slowly, never breaking eye contact.

But he doesn't apologize. Doesn't explain himself. Doesn't soften the command. He just lets the silence stretch, heavy and deliberate, until the only thing you can hear is the faint hum of the busy bustling outside and the sound of your own breathing.

Still, something shifts almost imperceptibly in the air between you. Like he's offering you a choice, even if it's silent. Testing you. Waiting to see if you'll push back or fold.

Your fingers reluctantly move to the zipper of your dress, fumbling slightly. The fabric feels heavier than it should, thick and stubborn under your touch. Your cheeks flame with heat as you let it pool around your ankles, the air cool against your bare skin. You don't dare meet his eyes. Your panties come next, sliding down your legs in a slow, humiliating crawl.

You stand there, naked and flushed, heart jackhammering, feeling less like a goddess offered up on a velvet throne and more like a product left bare on a shelf for inspection.

Harry finishes his drink in one long swallow, sets the glass down with a sharp clink. Then he moves, slow, deliberate, until he's standing right in front of you, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. Two fingers tilt your chin up until your gaze locks with his.

"Color?" he asks quietly, almost gently, surprising you.

The simple question unravels something in you. You swallow hard. "Green," you whisper, the word catching slightly in your throat.

His mouth curves, not a smile, exactly, but something close. Satisfaction. Approval. Good girl.

You don't know if you're trembling from the cold or from the way he's looking at you like a man starved.

"On the bed," he orders, voice lowering, rougher this time.

You hesitantly walk toward the bed, your nerves buzzing like an electric current, your skin prickling under his watchful gaze. He follows behind at a leisurely pace, his steps deliberate, as though he owns every inch of the space between you two.

When you sit, knees pressed together tightly, a nervous instinct, you can feel his eyes on you, sharp and calculating. He doesn't say a word, but his stare is almost suffocating, like he's dissecting every tiny twitch of your body. You think you're hiding it, the tension coiling in your gut, the sharp breath you can't quite control, but Harry notices. He always notices.

"Spread."

You hesitate, just for a second, but that's enough. A flicker of amusement passes over his features, the kind that tightens your chest even more. You obey, reluctantly, the cool sheets beneath you feeling too uncomfortable, too foreign, your breath stuttering as you do what he says. He slowly kneels before you, like he's got all the time in the world, his hand casually holding something you hadn't even seen him grab: a slim, black vibrator, sleek and intimidating.

Your stomach flips. You open your mouth, but the words get stuck somewhere between wanting to beg him to stop and wanting to prove yourself.

"We're gonna test your limits," he says simply, his tone darker, more serious now. "Gotta know what you like. What you don't."

You swallow. "I thought we were... going to talk about the arrangement. Finalize the terms?"

He smirks, slow and cruel. "We are, baby. This is part of it."

Your heart races as he rolls the vibrator between his fingers, eyes glinting as he examines you. He's studying your every reaction, every subtle change in your body language.

You shift uncomfortably. Your hands are trembling, but you try to control it. You're not good at this, not good at admitting when you're not okay, not good at showing your hesitance.

The vibrator hums to life with a quiet buzz, low at first. He starts slow, teasing the inside of your thighs, moving closer to your hips, barely brushing against where you need him. Your body clenches, straining towards it instinctively. He watches you, eyes focused, reading every tiny twitch in your expression, every sharp intake of breath, every subtle, desperate movement of your body.

"No lying," he says, voice serious now. "I'll know."

You nod shakily.

His fingers hover near your skin, just enough to make you ache for his touch, but not enough to relieve the pressure building inside you.

"Beg."

"Please," you whisper, barely audible.

"Please, what?"

"Please touch me."

His smile deepens, satisfied, and he presses the vibrator firmly against your clit. Your hips jerk violently at the sensation. You need more, so much more, but it's too much at the same time. Your body can't decide what it wants.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and guttural.

He keeps the vibrations steady at first, gentle pulses that send waves of heat and discomfort through your body, your breath ragged, eyes shut tight. But then he turns it up, gradually increasing the intensity, and you feel like you're losing your mind.

Your body is already sensitive, already overstimulated from a long day at work dealing with insufferable customers, and the more he pushes, the more your thoughts scatter.

When the toy brushes lower, teasing your entrance, your body tightens reflexively. You flinch. You can't help it. The discomfort, the anxiety, it all hits at once.

He immediately pulls back, eyes narrowing as he watches you, still calm, still in control.

Your breath is shallow, your chest rising and falling too quickly, too erratically. You're embarrassed. This is not the reaction he was hoping for. He's watching you, scrutinizing you.

"That's a no, then?" he asks, voice still cool, but there's a hint of something else, a hint of curiosity.

You blink quickly, nodding hesitantly as you try to steady your breathing. Your chest is tight. Your hands are still fisted in the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but it's hard.

He clicks the vibrator off, the absence of the buzzing almost as deafening as the silence between you. He moves up the bed toward you, his gaze softening just a little, but the dominance in his posture remains.

"You should tell me when you don't like something," he tells you, voice low, almost like he's lecturing you, but there's no harshness in it. ''It's not my job to guess what you want. You've gotta speak up when things aren't okay."

Your throat tightens. "I didn't want to... disappoint you."

He laughs softly, not unkind but with an edge of exasperation. ''You're not a fucking robot, baby. Don't play me for one. I'm not paying for you to pretend.''

His bluntness cuts through the shame, leaving you raw, exposed.

"Let's continue," he announces, the smirk tugging at his lips. You nod, dazed, unable to think clearly.

He presses his lips to your neck, nipping at the skin with sharp little bites, and you gasp, your whole body reacting to him.

He doesn't give you time to recover before his hand disappears under the bed, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. The cold metal glints in the dim light, and your stomach plummets, dread pooling at the pit of your stomach. Your eyes flick to the cuffs, to him, to the way he's watching you, waiting. You don't want to seem weak. But the panic is rising, bubbling just under the surface.

He sees it. That flicker of fear. And to your shock, he tosses the cuffs aside without a second thought.

"No?" he says, arching a brow, the coolness of his voice making your heart beat faster. ''That's alright.''

You don't know whether you're relieved or disappointed. But you're grateful, more than anything, that he noticed. That he cared.

He shifts you, gently but firmly, positioning you on your stomach, ass up. He pins your hands behind your back, his grip firm but not painful, his fingers like iron. You can't move, can't escape, but it doesn't feel like punishment.

"This," he mutters, low and dark with satisfaction, his voice laced with something rough and possessive. "This I know you like."

You can't help the soft whimper that escapes your lips as his body presses against yours, grinding slow and punishing, drawing out each movement. Your mind starts to unravel as he moves over you, your body arching into him automatically, desperate for more.

Harry's hands let go of your hands and stroke slow along your arms, down your sides, grounding you in the bed's soft sheets. His touch is almost tender, but his voice stays steady, purposeful, like he's still holding back, still working toward something darker.

''Wanna try something,'' he mutters, his mouth brushing over your ear. ''Think you can handle that, baby?''

You hesitate, heart jumping a little too fast in your chest. But you nod, eager to please, eager not to disappoint him, even if there's a pit opening up inside your gut.

He notices the slight delay in your answer, a flash of reassurance passing over his face before he pushes up from the bed and retrieves something from one of the drawers in the nighstand beside his bed: a long strip of black silk. Smooth, intimidating.

You tell yourself you're fine. You tell yourself you can handle it.

He straddles your hips, pinning you lightly to the mattress with the weight of his body, and your breath catches when he brings the silk to your face, letting it ghost across your cheeks. He watches you, studying every twitch of discomfort, every tiny tremble of your lips, but when you don't say anything, he smiles, slow and satisfied.

"Good girl," he breathes, tying the blindfold tight around your eyes.

Darkness falls immediately. Your world narrows to the sound of your breathing, too loud in your ears, and the rough scrape of Harry's sweatpants against your bare skin.

You feel his hand trail down your side, but you can't see it coming, can't prepare for the way it jolts through your body, can't anticipate where he'll touch next. The loss of control makes your heart hammer faster, panic starting to simmer under the surface.

It's fine. It's fine.

Except it's not.

You can't see him. You can't read him. You can't breathe.

The air in the room feels too thick, too heavy. Your chest tightens, your hands gripping at the sheets helplessly, your body locking up beneath him. You try to stay quiet, you try not to ruin it, but your breathing gives you away, short, ragged little gasps that stutter out of you uncontrollably. The harder you try to stop it, the worse it gets.

At first, Harry doesn't notice. His hands are moving, teasing, rough and unrelenting, dragging noises out of your mouth you don't even recognize. But when you whimper softly, not in pleasure, but in fear, you feel him freeze above you. His body goes stiff. You realize, even through the roaring of your rapid heartbeat in your ears, that he's gone completely silent.

''Take the blindfold off,'' he commands sharply.

You struggle to move, shakily reaching up, but he swats your hands away and rips it off himself, tossing the silk onto the floor. His face is right there, inches from yours, his brow furrowed, his mouth drawn into a hard line.

''What the fuck do you think you're doing?'' he demands, voice low and cold and furious.

You flinch, shrinking down into the bed, heat flooding your cheeks in shame. You don't know what to say. You don't know how to fix it.

He sees the panic still written all over you, the way your hands are still trembling, the way you're practically vibrating with anxiety. His mouth curves into something crueler, something sharper, the fire of burning frustration clear in his eyes.

He's disappointed. You've responded poorly to nearly everything he's into. You bet he's offended. You bet he regrets picking you.

"You think I'm mad you're uncomfortable?" he growls, voice harsh enough to make your stomach drop, like he knows exactly what you were thinking and he doesn't like it. "I'm not mad you didn't like it. I'm mad you didn't fucking say so."

Your throat closes up, tears stinging behind your eyes, but Harry doesn't let up. He grabs your chin roughly in his hand, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

''You have a mouth. Use it. I'm very fucking strict about my safe words. You hear me?''

You nod quickly, shame burning through you, but it's not enough for him. Not nearly enough. He sits back on his heels, looming over you, voice cool and clinical like he's disciplining a disobedient pet.

"You're gonna sit there and answer me properly," he says, voice sharp enough to cut. "And you're gonna think about what you say. Understand?"

You nod, small and desperate.

"Use your fucking words."

"Yes, Harry."

"Good," he mutters, eyes narrowing.

He leans in a little, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding. His thumb strokes lazily over your pulse, feeling it race.

"What do you say," he begins, voice low, "if I've got my hand around your throat... just like this... and I'm fucking you slow, deep, making you feel so full you think you're gonna split apart... and it feels good, but my pace is leaving bruises? Hm?"

You blink up at him, breathing shaky. "Yellow." Slow down.

His mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. "Good girl."

"What do you say if I'm making you suck me off, not letting you breathe, holding your head down, spit and tears dripping off your chin, and it starts feeling like too much at once?"

You shiver, heat flooding through your body at the image, even as shame creeps higher up your throat. "Yellow," you whisper.

"Louder."

"Yellow, Harry."

He nods, satisfied, squeezing your jaw in his hand.

"And what if I decide to cuff you to the bed," he murmurs, "and leave you there for hours. Touch you, tease you, never let you come. What then, hm? What if you realize you fucking hate it?"

Your breath stutters. "Red." Stop.

"Say it like you mean it."

"Red!"

"Good girl."

He shifts closer, his knees spreading your legs wider, his hand sliding dangerously low along your stomach, stopping just before your core.

"What if," he growls, "I'm slapping your clit, making you sob for it, and you're struggling to breathe?"

You flush so hard your vision blurs.

"Yellow," you stammer.

"Good girl," he praises darkly, the words sliding over your skin like a brand. "Now, what if I'm spanking you... so hard you can't tell if you love it or hate it... and you panic? What do you say?"

"Red!"

"And if you want to fucking leave?"

"Red, Harry, red!"

He pulls back finally, still watching you, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths.

"You don't ever sit there like a dumb little doll and hope I notice," he says, voice cold and cutting. "If you feel it, anything, you say it. If you even think about feeling it, you say it. Got it?"

"Yes, Harry," you breathe.

His hand cups your cheek roughly, thumb pressing into the corner of your mouth until you open obediently for him. His face softens, barely, the smallest flicker of reassurance in his gaze.

"Good girl," he mutters. "That's better."

He doesn't touch you right away, just sits there, watching you through hooded eyes, the heat of his body wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Your chest is still heaving, nerves buzzing just under your skin, but you force yourself to stay still, to breathe. You've earned that tiny nod of approval, the glint of something warmer in his expression. You don't want to lose it now.

"Lie back," he says finally, voice low but not sharp anymore. You obey immediately, heart hammering, limbs trembling a little with the aftershocks of your panic and the brutal interrogation that followed. But he doesn't punish you for it. He doesn't mock you or push. Instead, his hands slide over your thighs, slow and steady, coaxing them apart with a patience that makes your breath hitch.

The first touch of his fingers is almost unbearably gentle, just the barest ghost of contact over your folds, tracing the wetness there like he's reacquainting himself with you. His thumb brushes your clit so lightly you barely feel it, and a broken sound escapes your throat.

"Shh," he murmurs, voice soothing. "We go slow. Yeah?"

You nod, desperate to be good, to show him you can handle it, and he rewards you by pressing a little more firmly, circling your clit in those slow, devastating spirals that make your hips twitch off the bed. His free hand anchors your thigh down, keeping you open, keeping you grounded.

He works you open with maddening care, two fingers sliding in eventually, curling shallowly inside you, his palm keeping constant pressure against your clit. Every movement feels deliberate, measured, for you, not for him. There's none of the bruising pace from before, none of the overwhelming force. Just the steady building of heat, the way your body starts to bloom under his touch.

At one point, you feel his mouth replace his hand, the scrape of his stubble against your inner thigh, the warm flick of his tongue over your clit making you whimper. He's thorough, almost clinical about it, not showy or indulgent, just focused, relentless, coaxing you higher and higher until your body locks up, shuddering through a release so gentle it almost feels like floating. He licks you through it, slow and steady, until you're gasping and twitching under him, pushing weakly at his shoulder.

He pulls back then, finally, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and looks at you, really looks at you, like he's checking that you're still whole.

"You did good," he says quietly as your eyes flutter closed. You feel the mattress shift when he gets up.

You barely register him moving around the room, but when you blink open your heavy eyes, there's a cold bottle of water being pressed into your hand. You clutch it gratefully, gulping it down while he disappears into the ensuite. A few minutes later, he comes back, tosses a towel onto the bed without a word, and jerks his chin toward the open bathroom door.

"Shower's yours."

You stumble toward it on shaky legs, grateful for the excuse to hide your face. His bathroom is ridiculously luxurious, heated floors, fluffy towels, expensive soaps that smell like cedarwood and spice. You take your time, letting the water wash away the sticky remnants of your anxiety, trying to piece yourself back together.

When you return to the bedroom, he's already under the covers, scrolling lazily through his phone like he hasn't just shattered you and stitched you back together in the same hour.

You hesitate for a moment, but he flicks the blanket up wordlessly, making room for you. Your heart swells a little, and you slip in beside him, careful not to touch him unless he invites it.

For a long moment, there's only the soft sounds coming from his phone, the quiet hum of the city outside his window.

But you can't help yourself. The questions bubble up, tentative and trembling, before you can think better of it.

"Harry?" you whisper.

"Hm?"

You pick at the edge of the blanket, voice barely audible. "Are you... seeing other people?"

He doesn't look at you. Just scrolls once more, then locks his phone and sets it on the nightstand. He turns his head toward you.

"No, baby," he says simply. "I told you this arrangement is exclusive. You're the only one."

Your breath catches.

"And... and how often would I... I mean, how often would you want to... see me?"

"Couple times a week. More, if you're okay with that."

"And... the payment?"

He smirks slightly. "We'll work that out. Money. Gifts. You can have whatever you like."

You chew your lip, heart pounding. "And if I... if there's something I can't do? Or I... I can't—"

"You say no," he interrupts bluntly. His voice is firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "You use your fucking words. I don't want your obedience unless you're giving it to me freely. Understand?"

You nod quickly, throat tight.

He watches you for a long moment, something shifting in his expression, almost imperceptible. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he says:

"Don't like when people fake things with me. Had enough of that for a lifetime."

Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. You don't know the story behind those words. But you know it's not a conversation you're meant to push. Not tonight.

So you just murmur a soft "Okay", and burrow a little closer under the covers.

He doesn't touch you. But he stays close, close enough that the heat of him soaks into your skin, close enough that when you finally drift off, you swear you feel the edge of his pinky finger brush against yours, the smallest, secret tether.

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

sugar, baby series tag list

@indierockgirrl @prettygurl-2009 @cherryflavoredbyme @dipmeinhoneyh

general tag list

@2601-london @mads3502

...

[cenizasdelaurel]

k, every time I try to explain my meal prep method to somebody I think I sound pretty normal when in reality I look like this:

But I'll share it anyway for the depressed besties out there for them to see that you can actually beat the what's for dinner demon once and for all, and the solution is, as usual, BE MEDIOCRE ABOUT IT.

You're gonna choose two protein sources ,could be some kinda meat, or some grains. I usually choose both so I cook let's say, chicken and black peas or chickpeas. Now, you're going to cook TRIPLE the ration you'd usually cook: if you eat a chicken thigh per meal you cook three, or a whole chicken. The same for the peas.

Then you're gonna choose two vegetables for the fibre, or maybe one. But I like variety so I always get carrots and cabbage, which last an eternity in the fridge without getting stale. You can choose some canned goods, if you're feeling fancy, like corn or whatever.

Lastly you will choose your carbohydrates. I usually pick rice. And you are going to cook a gross amount of rice, which is not difficult BC measuring rice is ridiculous you just do it by heart and then deal with the consequences.

Now you're left with everything needed for a whole meal: protein, carbs and fibre. Next step is to combine them however you like. Could be chicken with rice and peas with a carrot side salad. Carrots and cabbage are easy to season, you can use whatever you like: salt, vinegar, soy sauce, Cesar and mustard. And it's always good. Could be rice and peas and an egg on top. Chicken and cabbage salad with spicy black peas, throw some garlic at them and boom, magic. Leftover chicken salted with soy sauce and spicy cabbage, you already have this in your fridge, boom, meal!

This method usually lasts me at least three to four dinners. If I get bored I add something more, like canned corn, or pickled stuff which always go well in salads. Sometimes it won't be as yummy but hey, you're getting nutrients. That's the important thing I guess.

This method also helped me with my eating disorder. Sometimes it doesn't have to be a tasty meal, food is food and this helps me maintain a neutral attitude towards eating because it erases it from my daily thoughts. I'll eat whichever combination of things I already have prepared and bye. Also it keeps me away from ultra processed foods and it's extremely budgety. You can replace chicken with just peas, or some eggs or some tofu.

I know that finding time to cook it's very difficult. I usually do this one time and then it lasts, but this method has its limitations, without a fridge I'd be dead. Fuck the capitalist system for robbing us from our capacity to prepare decent meals.

I hope I helped!

What are you even supposed to eat for dinner

[kidspawn]

Oh so actually, yeah I will defend early day Adam and Blue and the fact that they dated and that it's crucial to both of them. Not just because it shows us what they both needed in a relationship, and why they didn't work with each other for their conflicting needs (though that is an excellent point and one I attribute to their narrative relevance.) but also because... they're really important to each other?

Adam and Blue meet, and it's when Adam is worried about being judged for who he is and Blue wanting to be wanted (and not just useful which is a concept that breaks me because ahhhhh) and they actually challenge that with each other? Blue is drawn to Adam because while he is attractive, he's also something different - she sees a fray in his jacket, and she likes that he isn't the typical Raven Boy. She likes this aspect of Adam he worries about being judged for. And you can say all you do about how Blue describes him in comparison to something dusty or how she compares him to traits of himself he detests, but while Adam dislikes these things Blue likes this about him. I cannot stress that enough. It was not what Adam needed (this is something Gansey, actually, needed) but it was important.

Blue wants to be wanted, to be around someone who sees her as more than just useful. And, yes, Adam does seem to evaluate her based on how useful she will be to the group, but it's important to note that Adam is drawn to Blue because he wants to be around her. He thinks she's funny. He thinks she's pretty. He legitimately likes her as a person. He seeks her out for physical comfort, not just because she's useful but because he likes being around her, he wants her, he wants her company. There is a lot you can say about how Adam equates usefulness with love and affection and he definitely values Blue based on her usefulness in the group but it's more than that. He envies her ease with which she makes friends, the confidence she has in herself. (Adam + Envy is also a prevalent theme with how he experiences attraction.) Adam genuinely admires Blue as a person. He wants to be around her, appreciates her input and her presence. And that was important to Blue at the moment.

And, yes, the ultimate issue comes into their conflicting needs in a relationship, but I think when it comes to Blue and Adam it's such a beautiful exploration of what a short-term romance brings to teenagers. It's common to explore relationships through these awkward fumbles between what you need in the moment and what you need in the long term. They get those awkward, first relationship jitters and anxieties together, they learn what they both need and value going further into their teen years. And it is messy and complex and all over the place and very hormonal. And that is a really precious thing to explore in a shorter relationship, especially with a friend, and with a person you feel understands you. (Something neither of them had gotten.) Also, if they hadn't dated they wouldn't have brought the group together. Poverty twin rizz, guys. They really carried the first book on their backs.

Anyway, my point is that Blue and Adam together are very valuable to the story, their character arcs, and please know you can give them the respect they deserve without detracting from Bluesey or Pynch or detracting from the significance of their friendships. I actually think if they'd been given more time, that platonic dynamic would've been one of the strongest in the series. Because when you share such a valuable milestone (the horrors of teen dating) you bond on a level many don't understand or relate to. Blue and Adam I love you.

[tokoyan]

- Love encounters

Pairing: Baku x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 936

a/n: this is my first time actually publishing a fic on tumblr so dont judge a book by its cover! (jk 😭) but still this a very cute fic that had me giggeling while writing this. if you want a part 2 just say it!

pt1 // pt2

Baku was tasked by his father to quickly pick up a few grocery items on his way home from school, so that’s exactly what he did. He stopped by a small grocery store near his house and walked inside. As the sliding doors opened, a cool breeze hit him. He stepped in confidently, strolling through the store while humming a tune, scanning the aisles for the items he was told to get.

But then he turned into one of the aisles—and that’s when he saw her. Probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on.

You were just grabbing a light snack before meeting up with your friends when you felt someone’s gaze on you from the corner of your eye. Turning to confirm your suspicion, you saw a black-haired boy looking at you with a hint of awe on his face. As he noticed you staring back at him, clearly confused, he quickly composed himself.

“…Are you looking for something?” you asked, stepping aside, assuming you were blocking his way.

“N-no, no, it’s nothing,” he said, trying to flash a confident smile. Then, walking toward you in a smug kind of way, he dropped a pickup line—one of those cheesy ones.

“Are you a star? Because that beauty is out of this world,” he said with a proud grin.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious, but it was so corny that you let out a soft laugh. He probably thought you were laughing because of the pickup line.

“What are you trying to do?” you asked, still a bit confused, though now with a grin.

“Oh, I just… wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.” (Was I always this awkward? Damn, I swear I’m usually cool around girls…) he thought to himself.

“You could’ve just said that from the start.”

“You’re… right,” he said, giving you a sheepish grin.

That was the first day we met. Not long after, Baku started visiting that exact store more often—clearly hoping to bump into me again. It worked. Within a month or so, we started dating.

---

We were on a basketball court, just goofing around with Baku and Gotak, taking turns trying to score. Every time I got the ball, Baku became my number one fan, cheering me on and hyping me up—even though the whole point of our silly game was to take the ball from each other. Gotak mostly rolled his eyes at Baku’s behavior, but he let it slide. He had always known that when Baku eventually got into a relationship, he’d be a full-blown lover boy. It was just in his nature—too obvious to ignore.

After a few rounds, I was exhausted from all the running and jumping, so we decided to take a short break. I sat down on the bench, and Baku followed right after. He sat beside me and confidently placed an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

“You’re like a blossoming flower radiating in the dark,” he said, grinning down at me.

“What the hell are you even saying?” I laughed.

“I’m just trying to charm m’lady,” he said playfully, then gave me a firm kiss on the forehead—followed by a few more pecks across my face.

“Hey, Baku!” I giggled, lightly slapping his arm as he kept doing it.

Gotak was sitting on the court with a water bottle in hand, watching our little moment. Baku caught his gaze and suddenly shouted, “Jealous?”

“Fuck off, Baku,” Gotak replied jokingly, rolling his eyes and pulling out his phone.

“He’s totally jealous,” Baku whispered, looking back at me.

“Or maybe you’re just being too affectionate.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It is, but… it’s like you’re trying to show off our relationship and remind him he’s single.”

“Let him be single—I don’t care,” he shrugged. “All I want is to be right beside my queen.”

“Oh, whatever,” I said, laughing again.

He truly was an amazing boyfriend.

[janejennyojeny]

Last pic really sold it for me, the location is almost poetic

Would yap about it but fuck it

Lately i wish everyone would just shut the fuck up for real

There will be presidental election soon in poland and everyone is so fucking opinionated about every little thing, people are so hateful and so so wrong on many topics

Arguing with someone who doesnt value basic human rights just because it does not affect them is so exhausting and you will never win

People lack empathy and imagination, they choose whatever candidate promises them the most - what would profit them the most (those postulates will never come true anyway)

Medieval beliefs are still strong in peoples minds and it shows

Dont even say a thing about women who vote far right, its like chickens voting for kfc what the actual fuck, why are you voting against yourself

Internalized misogyny in women is funny when you watch a video on the internet

But when you actually talk to a person that delusional its truly terrible to hear, and they believe it so strongly too, you will not win

I wonder if its a true belief or something for the male gaze

If its the second one Id lay it off, there is nothing easier for a woman than getting a man. You do not even need to try impress them anyhow, just be, they will always orbit around you whether you care or not

This guy i know that was always so nice and "prowomen" suddenly showed his true face after getting absolutely destroyed in a political argument, just by facts and logic

Now all he does is send misogynistic memes that put women down, of course to make other guys laugh cause "women ☕️", but when you send one meme that makes fun of men, oh boy, you would not believe the shitstorm

good thing is that I managed to convert one of those conservative guys into giving up the vote for someone who cares for us as a collective, for the less fortunate ones, someone who will not sell this country again. Candidate for millions not millionaires. Thats a win cause you would not believe how much talking it took to actually convert someone to turn 180 politically but Ive done it

Thats all I had in me though, recently left some groupchats just cause im generally tired of people, the more i meet, the more we talk, the more they reveal themselves to me, the more I accept the fact that I may be an outcast for a long time

Maybe i need to be more accepting, maybe people need to get their shit together and priorities straight. Maybe a little bit of both

We'll meet in the middle someday, hopefully. Otherwise Ill stick to myself cause I do not plan to lower the standards, not yet anyway. anyone thats "nice" "okay" "fine" "cool" is a no, its not nearly enough.

I want fire within someone's eyes, huge heart, painful honesty and the soul needs to shine through and blind my ass. whether its love or friendship

Maybe thats delusional as well, maybe not

Maybe I do not understand human relationships all that well to appreciate less, maybe I aim for something impossible, maybe i do not deserve it yet, maybe there are no rules or invisible threads that connect people and we just bump into each other randomly, and some just get lucky enough to experience the real thing that lasts

A lot of maybe, only one thing is sure - I will get answers sooner or later, life has a way about it and reveals stuff to you if you listen

Just said i dont wanna yap and i yapped all the way so, fuck it. no one reads it anyway and i can let out some steam

In case i dont see ya, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight

[mullermilkshake]

Even praise hurts

Part 5 <- Part 6 -> Part 7

The association dinner goes mostly the way Jinwoo expects, yet he suspects that something darker is at play.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Mentions of unprotected sex/public sex/gore and violence/murder/drowning, mentions of babies/pregnancy, dark thoughts, intrusive thoughts, mild treats, alcohol, drinking

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

“What took you guys so long?” Baek leant on the bar with a whiskey swirling in his hand.

Jinwoo thought it best to say nothing. If he had it his way, he’d tell the whole restaurant and bar exactly where he was and how deep, just for his own entertainment. Though he doubted you would have appreciated it.

“Traffic.” You said casually, your hand still in Jinwoo’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hm,” He did not sound convinced. “Sounds about right. There’s always jackasses on the road. Glad you’re here, we’re all sitting in the back room waiting for you.”

Jinwoo fought hard to hold in his smugness, keeping everyone waiting whilst his load was dribbling from your thighs was potentially one of his top five moments in his life so far. He led the way behind Hunter Baek right through to the back room where the others were talking and smiling, Jong-in noticed you immediately and smiled, putting Jinwoo's back up immediately.

So irritating. 

“You’re here,” he grinned with his glass. “We almost thought you’d gotten lost.”

“Lots of traffic.” An adorable laugh left your lips. “Lots and lots of traffic.”

When you grinned back, Jinwoo watched Jong-in closely. Were those kind eyes, or ‘fuck me’ eyes he was giving you? Yeah, they were definitely ‘fuck me’ eyes. Just what the hell was that?

“It’s good that you’re finally here Hunter Sung, we were beginning to worry.” The Chairman did not address Jinwoo directly, rather he was looking at your hand entwined with his, a knowing stare that flitted every so often.

“We apologise, Chairman. It wasn’t our intention to arrive late.”

Jinwoo took his glances as a contest, doing the exact same towards him and Jin-chul, an all knowing glance for the conversation preciously, noting how he was studying you and Jinwoo just as closely.

The Chairman grinned and allowed you and Jinwoo to sit. “It’s quite alright, now we can make a toast to the happy couple.”

Happy couple… that’s rich coming from a man that gave them no choice.  

Hunter Lim sat next to Jin-chul, totally impassive. His arms folded the way they were signalled that he wasn’t entirely present, not until he took notice of Jinwoo. “Hey, glad you two finally made it, Yoonho’s been boring the hell out of me with random crap.”

“Were you waiting long?” Jinwoo asked with caution, according to his calculations, you and he were only late by ten minutes.

“Eh, we all decided to meet a little earlier, you didn’t get the message? So its more like forty minutes, no one could reach either of you.”

Oh shit. Well, in this case, you and Jinwoo would have arrived late regardless if he’d fucked you in his car or not, somehow it didn’t make the situation as dire as it could have been.

“Oh,” Jinwoo pulled out his phone and pretended to check through it like it actually mattered. “No, I didn’t get anything sent to me.”

Lim dismissed it and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe you’ll see Yoonho get drunk this time, that can be entertaining.”

“Right… uh, where’s Hunter Ma?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s off somewhere. He couldn’t wait much longer for you so I think he went to get a light bite. He’ll be back shortly… but I guess we can get to celebrating the happy couple as happy as they can be, being forced into this like they have.”

Out of the two, Jinwoo had faith that you and he would be happy, but he saw right through the facade that Jong-in and Hae-in put up, and it fascinated him. So much so that he let one of his shadows go and attach itself to Jong-in. Just out of curiosity behind closed doors.

Jinwoo pulled out your seat for you and only then did you let go of his hand, he waited until you were seated properly. He watched the interactions between them as a toast was announced, you said something to Hae-in but his concentration picked up on the little things.

Despite popular belief, You and Hae-in rarely spoke the last two months, and even before then, it seemed to be more of a show for the public eye rather than a genuine friendship. The act of survival when one’s life is threatened to change often brings people together, and Jinwoo saw that it was that case with you and Hae-in.

She wasn’t entirely invested, it was obvious by the extra few inches distance her chair sat from jong-in, never touching hands, always at her side unless picking up her glass of water. Jong-in was more invested in you than the mother of his child, barely making eye contact with her or exchanging more than a word or two.

Trouble in paradise. And the chairman thinks it’s appropriate to berate us, instead?  

“Hey, guys!”

“Oh,” Lim snorted. “There you are, big guy. Thought you got lost too.”

Ma chuckled and flopped down in the seat next to Baek with a satisfied grin and a fleck of sauce on his cheek. He noticed you and Jinwoo and waved. “Hey you two, thought you were never gettin’ here!”

Before anyone could address that elephant in the room further, the Chairman stood up to command the room with his scotch glass. “Let’s toast to the first step in the reclaiming of our country's security and the future of the Hunter’s association… To Hunter Choi and Hunter Cha!”

Everyone toasted, raising their glasses whilst the Chairman ordered food and ordered everything to fill out the table. The mood seemed fruitful, enthusiastic, despite the ominous response to it two months ago. Even you seemed more on board with it now, chatting more and smiling a little warmer than previous weeks.

The others might not have seen it, not even you, yet Jinwoo could think of nothing else. Chairman Go and Jin-chul’s watchful eyes on everything across the table. Watching closely, Jinwoo found that as the night progressed, Jong-in and Hae-in became touchy.

A hand brush every so often, a little whisper in her ear with a smile sweeter than treacle to rot the entire table’s teeth for endless cavities. Though when those moments vanished, Jong-in was clinging on to you, with the hope of what, exactly? That he’d eventually come clean to how in love he was with you, or try to convince you that he was a better person despite having a child with another woman?

Just the thought made Jinwoo brood, grit his teeth through the boring dinner during parts he wasn’t listening just to think of ways he’d kill the man in a fit of fuelled jealousy that Jong-in even had the gall to talk to you with such familiarity-

“Jinwoo.” 

He blinked, looking down at you with softer eyes. “Hm?”

You leant closer and whispered. “You’re spacing out… are you feeling okay?” 

God… Those eyes staring up at him so innocently when Jinwoo knew you weren’t the innocent persona you allowed the public to perceive you as. If only publix sex was legal, and he definitely would have had you over the dinner table and no one could have stopped him. That would have set Jong-in straight.

“Y-yeah… I’m okay. Just tired, I think.”

You seemed to buy it. “Okay… we’ll leave soon?” 

“Sounds good.”

The Chairman cleared his throat and addressed Jinwoo properly for the first time with full eye contact. “So, Hunter Sung, when will you greet the association with the good news?”

This went against Jin-chul’s advice on keeping the night about the Hae-in's pregnancy. It was a direct threat too. Every hunter alive treated the Chairman with the respect and decency someone of his position and temperament dictated, but Jinwoo saw straight through it like glass.

By this threat, Jinwoo suspected that the Chairman had another agenda.

Why is he so hellbent on getting results this eagerly?

He glanced up at the system's quest screen, still unchanged. It wouldn’t give him an unobtainable quest so pregnancy was still possible, but with the Chairman’s urgency, something told his gut to shut it down immediately.

At the end of the day, whenever you finally fell pregnant, you and he were keeping the baby close.

“Well, we’re trying our best, Chairman. Each week we’re hopeful.”

In other words, it translated to, back off old man. 

“Well I look forward to the happy news, I have high hopes for you both.”

Long story short, what he meant to say was, hurry the hell up you two, I’m growing impatient. 

“You’ll be the first to know, Chairman-” The eruption of Jong-in’s laugh pulled Jinwoo out of the conversation.

“It’s true! Ask Yoonho.”

“Don’t ask me anything.” Baek turned away and chugged his drink with heavy eyes.

Jong-in chuckled and took a sip of his own drink, clearly giddy. “While we’re guild rivals, we get on better than others think, even Tae-gyu knows what I’m talking about- oh… maybe not.”

Hunter Lim snored away on the table, dribbling and nursing a bottle of Soju. The table acknowledged the humor and Hunter Ma commanded the table with anecdotes. Jinwoo wanted to join in, he did, because it made him understand the people he spent the most time with, but his gut told him to observe Jong-in closely.

You were unaware of this, watching Ma chuckle and tell embarrassing stories of a drunken and foolish Baek. Jong-in stole brief glances at you now and then, each time softer than the last. What was he thinking about?

About you? Friendly or intimate- no doubt there were intimate thoughts going through that head of his like a neanderthal. 

He bet Jong-in had all kinds of lewd thoughts up there in that head of his, all fabricated of course. Seeing as Jinwoo had seen you naked, touched the curves of your body and came inside you most nights, whatever Jong-in could conjure up in his mind sure as hell wouldn’t be anywhere near the real thing. Jinwoo had that edge over him, though it never got rid of the intrusive thoughts. The darker side he’d been battling with since he killed that staff member, well, even before then. Maybe after the first person he'd killed.

Each thought darker and more violent than the last though he never usually acted on them.

Since having you in his grasp, Jinwoo found them cropping up more and more often and the thought of being in a position that he’d be expected to let you go in a month didn’t help alleviate the symptoms.

It made his eye twitch, seeing another man look at you the way Jong-in did, he wanted to hurt him in a way he'd never recover with all of the mage healing in the world. He wanted him gone from your life completely, eradicated and wiped from existence.

How could he look at you the way he was doing right now when the time came and you had a newborn baby in your arms? Jong-in had a reputation to uphold as a guildmaster and having a child of his own would make quite the scandal if he was pursuing another woman.

Though Jinwoo simply wouldn’t have it, he couldn’t just get rid of him in the way he was fantasising about.

A quick dagger slice to his throat to watch the red slip out all over the floor, to see Jong-in gargle and panic because his mana would slip away with his consciousness and no amount of stupid fire would save him.

Maybe drowning him in a water dungeon, so that the only way his fire attacks would serve him any purpose would boil the water until his flesh melted from his face.

It had to be something slow… something painful. Something memorable-

“Jinwoo? Are you ready to go?”

Had he zoned out again? “Yeah, let’s get going.”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks, Hunter Sung.”

Another threat from the Chairman. Jinwoo saw it on the shining rim of his scotch glass, Jin-chul watched him too over the edge of his sunglasses. He stood and waited for the Chairman, allowing him space to pass and land a firm hand on Jinwoo’s shoulder.

“I’m counting on you.”

I bet you are, Chairman Go. 

Jinwoo was counting on it as well, to keep you close to him and take care of you. There was a lot to think about, much to discuss with you. Many concerns he wasn’t so sure he should come out with until he could investigate further.

Though his quest remained the same.

To get you pregnant within the next month.

Part 5 <- Part 6 -> Part 7

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974, @snowy-violet, @sky2lar, @starrynights23x, @minh907

@yessirr7, @aussie-boys-wife, @yihona-san06, @mashiromochi, @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator, @alia-17, @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle, @towomatos

@stormnightingale, @johnnysactualgf, @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved, @johnnysactualgf, @notleclerc

@minkuro, @misakicchi, @lovingyeet, @soft-dots, @gina239

@sabrina-senpai, @tsukimoon-chan, @afkmylajah, @livelaughlovekuni, @keiva1000

@delusionillusion322, @dreamingoftomorrow, @gina239,@blxuqueenie, @stardust0709

@chahaezii, @athanasia10

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[pellowinksx]

a long post about how to manifest except I say the same thing over and over in different words

affirm and persist

assume and continue assuming

keep telling yourself you have it and it will conform

the 3d reflects your thoughts

"pick a version of yourself and lie about it until its true, block everything else that says you don't have it" -IGETEVERYTHINGIWANT on twitter

decide and keep deciding

just keep affirming

speak your desires into existance

"tell yourself that you have it and the law will automatically do its job"-nswaa127 on twitter

"a state is a location, to get to that location you affirm" -sammyingram

your subconscious is always accepting what you tell it so just keep telling it what you want until it conforms

just fucking affirm

just decide

just assume

just tell yourself you have it

(can you tell I'm going insane)

your thoughts create your reality so just think of what you want

live in the end and persist

persist

do you fucking understand yet?

keep persisting

persist no matter what

"if you're manifesting your dr and your cr is falling apart I HAVE SOME NEWS FOR YOU" -some girl who manifested a penthouse on twitter

just fucking affirm

robotic affirmations are goated

affirm and persist (did I fucking say that already)

just keep affirming

affirmations are just thoughts so just think

affirm

affirm

affirm

????? lalalalalala (pellowinks crashing out here)

you already have your desire right when you say you do

please affirm

affirmations are statements.

state you have what you want keep going until the 3d confirms

"saturate your mind until the 3d throws up your desire!" -unknown on twitter

"just affirm" -dollphied on twitter

"Your subconscious accepts what it hears, sees, and feels the most — not what’s true. Familiar = safe. Safe = real. Saturation makes your new assumption familiar enough to be seen as truth." -juni on twitter

your desires are yours already

^^vibe to this while recognizing you have what you want

you're the creator of your reality

(from an islamic standpoint)

allah loves to hear the voices of those who persist in dua again and again

allah is with the paitent

never say "inshallah" when making dua only say amen because its yours already!

allah never rejects your dua, he either gives it to you (if you persist) or gives you good deeds on the day of judgement

all affirmations work

yes you can manifest anything you want

yes you have it just keep saying you do

affirm and stop questioning

the law is just affirming until you have it

^^ your doubts when you persist in the new story

^^ off topic but this song is goated

K BYE

(I will redirect you to this post if you ask me something stupid)

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Tit For Tat [M] — Kim Mingyu

✧ Better think twice before you play ✧

Plot: Picture this… your boyfriend enjoyed his ice cream a little too much and you decide to clean up the mess he made. 

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x boyfriend!Kim Mingyu (SVT) 🎥 Genre: light SMUT [+18], established relationship 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, exhibitionism, grinding, nipple play, orgasm denial/edging 🎥 Notes: I am a little later than usual but it’s here, voilaaa 💜 🎥 Shout out: thank you @nothoughtsjustfic my lemon drop for reading it through for me!!!

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

God, he's so fucking messy. 

That was the thought that ran through your mind as you observed your boyfriend with fascination from your spot beside him.

The two of you'd had a busy week at work so you decided to spend this warm and sunny Saturday lounging by your pool in the garden. And while you had been reading for the majority of the afternoon, Mingyu had gone for a swim and was currently recovering from said activity with a cold sweet treat that had you more than a little distracted from your book.

The man was greedily licking at his ice cream as he laid on one of the lounge chairs, seeming completely oblivious to the fact that half of the cream-colored substance was steadily dripping down his fingers, or that you were ogling him like a piece of meat. 

Mingyu was a messy eater, always had been, but you didn’t mind it at all. In fact, it was one of the things you adored about him so much. However, not once had you thought that the sight of him eating so messily was arousing. But then again, he was half naked with all his perfectly defined muscles on display and still slightly wet from the pool, and the way his mouth was moving around his ice cream reminded you of something else — something you very much wanted him to do to you. 

Yeah, you definitely couldn’t tell that you were ovulating. 

You finally had enough when some of the sticky cream landed on one of his pecs and he didn’t even bother to remove it. It was almost as if he was doing it all on purpose. 

So you put down your book and got up from your own chair, not even giving him a second to process your approach before you were sitting in his lap, legs on either side of him to trap him in. 

“Well, hello to you too.” Your boyfriend licked the ice cream from his lips as he took a moment to admire the revealing bathing suit you were wearing. 

“You know you're fucking messy, right?” You hungrily eyed the bit of ice cream that was now slowly making its way towards his taut nipple. 

His lips formed into a sly smirk. “Not my fault the ice cream is melting faster than I can eat.”

You raised your eyebrows and released an amused snort. “I somehow find that hard to believe, Mr. Kim.” 

“Too bad,” he responded, making sure to keep his eyes locked with you as he finished the remainder of his ice cream. “Are you going to help me clean up, though?”

You bit your lip, unsure if you wanted to leave him hanging or give in. But as he raised his sticky fingers to your lips, you could no longer resist the temptation.

Your lips parted almost automatically, taking in two of Mingyu’s fingers while you ground yourself against his hardening dick. 

“Fuck, baby. You look so hot with my fingers stuffed in your pretty little mouth,” he groaned, placing his free hand on your waist to help guide your movements. 

The combination of the sticky ice cream hitting your taste buds and the delicious constant pressure against your clit had you absolutely delirious with desire. Your tongue danced around his fingers with skill, sucking lightly here and there to tease him for a bit until you decided to move on to the next best thing. 

You released his fingers from your mouth with a loud pop, sending your boyfriend a mischievous grin while your hands reached for the chair handles. 

“Holy shit!” Mingyu exclaimed when you suddenly pulled on them, forcing him to lay completely flat without warning. 

“That’s better.” You chuckled, leaning down to hover your lips over his. 

Thinking you were about to kiss him, Mingyu closed his eyes, head lifting slightly to meet you halfway. Only you had other plans, so you avoided his lips and ducked your head, trailing a path of wet sloppy kisses along his neck all the way down to the part of him you had been eyeing for a while now. 

A hiss left Mingyu’s mouth as your teeth scraped over his sensitive nipple. Satisfied with his reaction, you did the same to his other nipple, making sure to lick up the trail of ice cream that had formed before clamping your lips around the hardened peak. 

As a result of your administrations, Mingyu had turned into a whiny mess beneath you, his breathing heavier than a minute ago and his hips frantically bucking against yours as you used a mix of teeth and tongue on his nipples to bring him closer to his high. 

He was exactly where you wanted him to be. 

“I’m about to fucking c-cum, shit!” 

As soon as the words had left his mouth, you were up and gone, letting a devilish grin cover your features. 

“What the heck? Where are you going?” a clearly confused Mingyu protested, reaching for you only to realize that you were already too far away. 

“Now you know exactly how I felt this morning.” You gave him a pointed look, referring to when he thought it was fun to edge you again and again, only for you to finally get your release after an hour and a half of torture. 

“Really? You’re seriously going to leave me hanging like this for that?”

You nodded, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Sure am. Serves you right.”

“Are you sure you want to play this game?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he slowly got up from the chair, his dick now visibly straining against his swimming trunks.

“Are you?” you challenged, forcing yourself to back up the closer Mingyu got.

He smirked, his eyes sparking with heat as they devoured your body from head to toe. 

“Bring it on, baby.”

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[jaderabb7t]

I do agree with this post, but if the people around you gaslight you into thinking that it wasnt actually happening you will start to feel a deep sense of hopelessness.

i Always find myself crying hoping that they would have left more bruises, or in a way permanent physical scars, i do Remember having them or other types of physical damage (for example me limping was kind of common) but it was never straight up in my face (besides slaps) and even when i had "proof " no one gave a fuck about my situation, because they are really complicate and messed up and most people would rather not bother honestly, they did not bother.

So i do think that physical abuse is more recognized, but it also makes you feel a deep sense of solitude, knowing that you are alone in this and that everyone sees what is happening but they all choose to stay silent, and you start to think that no one will actually ever help you or bother that much, that you actually only have you and therefore you shouldnt trust people, also (at least in my case) most of my family never recognized it fully, because Who wants to admit that you son/brother hit their child? So i think that we are left in the shadow, and to deal with our immense scarring alone, like the mental abuse was BAD but the fear of being beaten to death is something that i will carry with me to the grave.

The physical abuse Just blurred the mental for me, as of now i can only recognize physical abuse as that and therefore think that people can treat me as however they please, because its not something to worry about as long as they dont get violent.

Please check on your friends in similar situations!!! Especially in families the line between yelling and hitting or chasing can get blurry really quickly!!!

In a perversely ironic way, my parents' physical abuse of me was a blessing, for it was so blatant that my attempts to suppress, rationalize, make light of and laugh it off lost their power in adolescence and I was able to see my father for the bully that he was.

This is so relatable. It's weird to be, in a way, thankful you were physically abused. But it's the most clear cut, most recognised form of abuse in our society, and it did make it easier for me to understand what was happening to me was wrong. Which in turn helped me not internalise as much of the emotional abuse and verbal abuse, even though those always felt more painful than the physical stuff.

If you were physically abused and you feel like this too, please know it's natural and understandable. There's nothing wrong with it.

If you weren't physically abused and your abuse was primarily emotional and verbal, please know there's nothing wrong with you if you find yourself ever wishing you were physically abused too, so things felt more clear cut and obvious. That's natural and understandable too. What you went through was bad enough though, it counts, and it was just as wrong.

[ghstzzn]

uh... heejake x reader. they're high as fuck, giggling at everything, until they're not. suddenly, hands everywhere, grinding, messy kisses, and a lot of spit—like, everywhere. the car windows fogged up, and everything messy and really hot? :v

// wrote this off the edible lol sorry the urge to write 10k just for these 3 is wild warnings: not proofread, threesome, messy pathetic desperate, spit kind of, car sex, fingering, overstimulation, masturbation/handjob, double penetration, weed obv + sex while high

this happens more often than not. sneaking out of whatever function the three of you had gone to, to be alone in some empty parking lot.

the car is cramped with three bodies in the back, passing a joint around, hands lingering and subtle touches here and there. thats how it always starts.

no one shys away, nobody says anything.

just a lazy smile painted on heeseungs face as you fuck yourself on his fingers. it really doesn’t take much to get you sensitive and gasping out their names after a few hits.

both jake and heeseung are doing no better. heeseung pathetically bucks his hips upwards each time you let out a moan when his fingers curl just right inside of you.

“y’look so pretty…” jake sighs, palming himself over his jeans.

and heeseung, being the ever loving friend he is, takes one of your hands and guides it to jakes lap before planting wet, sloppy kisses against your neck.

your hand is pumping jakes cock, eliciting gasps and small whines from him as he thrusts upwards into your hand, chasing his own release.

heeseung continues to drive you to the edge, and as soon as you cum, he pulls his fingers out and lifts you off his lap.

it’s shocking to you how he suddenly manhandles you over jakes lap, who was now leaning against the car door with his legs spread, creating room for you.

but in this position, you’re face to face with him while heeseung kneels behind you.

you fall flat into jakes chest when heeseung enters you in one swift motion, rocking the car with each thrust.

“god… you feel so good,” he pants out before spitting directly onto his own cock, making it messy just the way he likes it. “so wet for me.”

you whine into jakes chest, tears lining your eyes because it just felt that good. jake lifts your head, hands squishing your cheeks. he wants something.

“touch me please, baby…”

spitting into your hand, you wrap it around his throbbing length once more. its sloppy the way you jerk him off, with your other hand digging into his neck to keep yourself stabilized while heeseung pound into you.

the windows are foggy, and the smoke from earlier only makes it more hazy. heeseung switches his pace, doing what feels best for him, from deep, slow thrusts to fast and brutal thrusts.

jake rolls his head back, hitting the car window. you grab his face and slam your lips onto his. your hand still pumping him, swallowing each and every moan he lets out.

you know he’s close when his stomach starts to tense, his thighs twitching and his hips start to buck upwards. you’re close too.

“ngh—i’m gonna cum,” you whimper loudly against jakes lips. “h-heeseung, i’m gonna-“

heeseung lets out a string of curses, quickening his pace even after your cunt flutters around him. your cries could be heard outside the car and the sounds only push jake over the edge with you, cum shooting from his cock, hitting your stomach and drenching your hand.

the male behind you suddenly pulls out, lifting your body once more. he’s eager, too horny to think. heeseung pushes you towards jake, and you know what he wants.

“c-can’t…” your voice cracks as you attempt to slide down jakes hardening cock.

“you can, babygirl, come on.” heeseung responds softly, hands on your hips as he guides you lower, ignoring jakes sharp gasps from the sensitivity. “ride him—i know you can do it.”

your thighs tremble with each roll of your hips. both you and jake are a whimpering mess, whispering out small praises to each other.

“s-so good—fuck!” jakes hips buck upwards, causing you to yelp out and he’s quick to take back control. “so warm… your pussy feels so good.”

you turn your head in attempt to look behind you, and you’re immediately greeted by a sweaty heeseung pumping his own cock, getting off by the scene in front of him.

“you look so p-pretty, baby, look at you.” he rambles, breathy groans leaving his lips. “riding him so good…”

you reach back and pull him by his shirt, crashing your lips against his, drool dripping from your mouths in a desperate attempt at dominance over each others tongues.

heeseung grinds into your back side, you can still feel his hand fisting his cock, ready to spill but he holds back. “wan’ you to cum again.” he mutters against you lips.

your mind is in a complete haze, clouded by sex and weed. you pathetically grab at heeseung and jake, wanting everything they can give you at once.

“heeseung,” you manage to squeak out, voice slurring with pleasure. “want you inside too.”

and he cums right there, hot ropes of cum coating your lower back as he milks his own cock with his hand. you clench around jake, tears rolling down your cheeks as your third orgasm hits you hard, falling into his chest.

but it doesn’t stop there. it never stops at that.

when you feel heeseung line his tip up with your already filled cunt, you gasp out, looking up at jake with such a pathetic expression and he kisses away your tears with a smile.

[seaborgium-dazies]

just a fan ☆ mdni

mha boys fucking a fan! reader cw: f!reader, vaginal sex, p in v, oral sex 🌊: deku, bakugo, shinso

a/n: hope u all have a nice night! this was sitting in my drafts for a while now. Enjoy!

deku:

Deku wasn't getting laid. EVER. And he blamed hero work for this misfortune. He blamed the stacks of papers, the early morning and late night patrols. He blamed the fights that leave him collapsing into the soft sheets of his bed, utterly spent.

He has to keep reminding himself of the effect he has on people. Deku has to remind himself of all the people he saves, really take those "thank you"s to heart or he will go insane.

Or rather, his sexual frustrations will make him go insane. And its not like his hero work is getting him laid, is it?

Deku has you deep in a mating press as your hands glide along the backside of his hands. You're trying to commit the scars to your memory.

It's no wonder that you're trying to remember every second of this divine pleasure, if you take the fact that you were laying beneath the person you admired most into account. You had always known that you were charming, but being charming enough to have pro hero deku practically fucking every last braincell out of you? You hadn't ever even dared to dream of this.

"D-deku~ aaaahh~"

Dekus rhythm faltered as he heard you moan his name. He had told you to call him izuku but somehow his hero name slipped past your lips accompanying every moan of yours.

And deku couldn't help but chuckle. The way you cling to him, the obscene sounds of your pussy swallowing him whole, pulling him in made him grip the headboard until his knuckles turned white.

And suddenly your phone chimed. You groaned in annoyance.

Who the fuck was texting you at this time of night?!

But when the notification lit up your screen and deku saw your lockscreen background? A new type of vigour flowed through his veins.

He pressed a sloppy kiss against your soft lips before letting your tongues battle briefly. The mind-blowing kiss accompanied by dekus cock dragging against your throbbing walls had you clutching at his muscular arms for support.

Gasps were leaving your lips until deku swallowed them as he kissed you again. And again. And again. Until something new sneaked into those kisses. Something beyond physical needs.

And when you dared to open your eyes the intensity of dekus gaze threatened to blow you away. You couldn't help but smile, a heartfelt grin spread across your face. And when deku flashed you the same smile back? Your heart did thirty consecutive backflips.

You really had to thank your fan behaviour (and especially that deku fanart u have set as your lockscreen) for this night.

And you both knew this wasn't going to be the last night.

bakugo:

Bakugo was wondering how his bed frame hadn't given in yet. And how you hadn't given in yet. The way your hips were smashing together and how your pussy squelched with every move of his? This must be the thing people referred to as truly animalistic sex.

But when a moan slipped out of your mouth carrying his hero name? He knew what this was about. And his dick got harder with every time a perfect "dynamight"-cry fell from your lips.

The cocky smile on his face was every bit justified as he pressed his cock into your pussy until you were seeing stars. Pistoning in and out of you with alarming speed, his cock throbbing inside of you. He's reduced you to a mess of whines and whimpers.

And an unusual feeling of pride welled in his chest. Pride on account of someone else...

He was fucking you silly and yet you were completely present. That's the kind of determination he loves to see from his fans.

So when he sees your tits jiggling with every thrust and your sanity slipping away little by little, he can't stop himself from tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You were so goddamn beautiful.

He already knew that he needed to see you again, the next time by daylight and in a fancy restaurant.

shinso:

He notices the pin on your bag as soon as he sees you. All cheery, wide eyes and rosy cheeks? Fuck, he has to have you.

You really hadn't expected him to recognize the pins on your bag. You were already used to them so the subtle hint at you being a fan went unnoticed by you and you expected the same from him.

What you hadn't known is that shinso not only noticed and recognized it but even more than that it quadrupled the want to have you writhing beneath him.

You were alternating between admirable boldness and shyness so cute it made him want to punch someone. You thought you were sooo slick. But when he noticed the pangs of conscience you were clearly battling, he couldn't help but loop you in and show you that he already knew you were a big fan of his.

"It's what your favorite pro hero would want"

And before you knew it his tongue was buried in your cunt. He was looking up at you through hazy lidded eyes, watching for every little reaction. Your gasps, whines and moans were stringed together to the most beautiful song he ever heard

And it was true. At first he wanted to fuck you for purely selfish reasons. He wanted to fuck you so good that you forgot your own name. He wanted to make you orgasm so hard that you'd go posting thirty different posts detailing how amazing it was to spend the night with him.

But as he was in the process of making you lose your mind and your hand clawed at his torso, something else flooded his body.

Something that didn't want you to share this experience with anyone else. Something that wanted to keep you by his side even when this night fades into the fog of a distant memory. Something that wanted you all to himself.

Fuck, he wants you.

buy me a coffee? <3

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