#If you got to the bottom congrats

[donkeys-waffles]

(This is so long, but it almost wraps up my thoughts on the most recent chapter. You've been warned. This is also in no way trying to justify AFO's current actions, I'm just over-analyzing the demon baby's childhood and how that turned into the adult demon we see today :>)

Something else I found interesting about the leaks. Baby AFO is killing people, I'm assuming for reasons of survival, either from those people being threats or they have something he needs.

But something that's really been on my mind lately is a child's perspective on death.

Children learn to love and fear different concepts by parental figures in their life, or adults in general really. It's like a pack complex, they see others react a certain way to their environment and learn how to react as a result. Children really learn how to human from other adults, which deeply shapes their view of themselves and the world around them.

But another concept that is taught to children is the concept of death... Children learn that mortality exists, and that it is something to be afraid of... By adults...

But two orphans that raised themselves in an apocalyptical society, from what we can tell from birth, they didn't have adults around to teach them anything, let alone that people do die and that it's a bad thing. At least they didn't have that during some of their most pivotal developmental years.

We see AFO as a monster, a child born evil, but for 1. We see this from a what could be considered the most unreliable narrator. 2. We don't see how he started killing, what made him start? The scenes we've seen thus far could be the first murders, but do we have evidence that it really was.

Baby Afo is so young at this point that his idea of death is a very limited one. Normally, we really start to process death and what it truly means at around 10, maybe. But he's very young here. It's possible he was attacked and so he attacked until the threat stopped moving. He was so young he may not have ever truly understood the gravity of what he had done until he grew older and was desensitized to it. Or maybe he was a hungry child with his feeble brother, who didn't know how to get any food. He wasn't given any help from the adults, possibly even paralleling Tenko. But he saw adults attacking other adults and getting food as a result. So, he followed their lead, like a child would mimic a parent, and he got a reward for him and his brother, food. Children have a large pleasure/pain complex, if their needs aren't met, they are often impatient until they receive what they want or need and can't emotionally regulate like adults can (another thing taught to them by adults). He doesn't understand that he is killing these people, he just knows he needs to stop them as a threat (either to protect him and his brother or feed him and his brother,) make sure they stop moving so they can't hurt him. It's also possible he wants to steal their quirks, something flashy, another part of the reward complex in his brain and his barely contained kleptomania.) And mind you, much of this is talking about normal human children... Not children with meta-abilities which are looking more like parasitic diseases with each new update. (Diseases that control the host and deeply influences their actions, mannerisms, and behavior. Also, something I will probably go on another rant about, let's be honest.)

Another interesting thing is this is from AFO's point of view. And all I've been seeing is that "AFO was born evil," or commenting on how horrifying AFO looked like as a child.

If this is how All for One sees himself... Well, that makes sense why he's such a damn bastard today. Not even as an infant did, he give himself the grace of looking like a normal child. We, the viewer is meant to see him as evil from birth, because that is how AFO sees himself. It's so interesting because one could even argue that AFO isn't happy, doesn't view himself as someone who has a heart or compassion. It's like because the villain in the comic book reminded him of himself, he's modeled himself to be like the villain, someone without care, someone who doesn't love. With Yoichi's death, we get a panel of the original shock, the remorse, and that progresses to the blank, empty, look in his eyes with tears falling down his face. He's always seen himself as the villain and refuses to recognize that he is indeed human. Which obviously from a DFO perspective makes sense in a truly heartbreaking way.

But I just can't get over how he views himself, it's creepy, unsettling, almost like he's afraid of himself. Like he views himself in the way his own victims view him. But someone who I always imagined views himself like a god, who's always in the right (he does believe he's always right,) I was expecting more emphasis on everything he did for his brother, the nicer clothes, he didn't look malnourished while AFO did, things like that. Or maybe a normal looking child (or hell even an unrealistically majestic child, or something.) the parts of himself that showed power, without the unexplained murder we got. I was expecting an attempt to prove how he was in the right, how he was trying to protect his brother. Emphasize the anger he still feels at losing him. But no, from what I can tell it's mainly the evil things he's done, with a small glimpse of them reading together. It lacks the depth, like he wants to appear flat instead of completely multidimensional. And honestly, that's IF he's being honest, which in and of itself is unlikely. But with how he's illustrated himself, you can look at it two ways, it's even more likely that he'd start a family, or it's less likely, because he was born evil and all he's cares about is possessing OFA/his bother. His backstory just gives me the vibe that he WANTS you to believe the second. Like he WANTS you to believe he's not human, and could never have a son, or at the least never care for any child he'd have.

He's trying too hard to prove how evil he is, how almost incapable of care or remorse he is. I'm skeptical.

But honestly, I think if this little story of his is true then... I think he should be locked in a museum. Looking at who he is, how he views himself and the world, illustrates the Dawn of Quirks in a way no Hero History book could. He was raised by a society that hated him for his quirk, honestly like most villains in BNHA.

[cripplingoptimism]

Distractions [3/3]

Gonna wrap this up in 3 parts. Previous here.

Yo, WHAT was happening on Twitter this week?? Every time I opened the app there was a new analysis of the Goddamn couch scene. I didn't think Trigun could hurt me any more and yet here I am in a new spiral over an internet stranger's hot take.

Anywaaaaay, I've had this brainworm way before whatever angst got a hold of Twitter. I've always interpreted Vash and Wolfwood’s relationship as 'right people, wrong time'. But honestly, I love every interpretation of them - platonic, soulmates, lovers, etc. So, through these comics I wanted to show moments during their journey that conveyed the gradual evolution of their relationship (as I head cannon it lmao). Canonically, Vash never gets to tell Wolfwood how he feels and my poor little heart has been in denial about that ever since. So this is my *slight* rewriting of the series of events leading up to Wolfwood's solo journey.

At this point in the manga (ch. 50) I wanted to show that, despite the 7 month time skip, it's like no time has passed between them. They're still comfortable and casual with each other, still seeking the comfort of distractions - Neither of them wanting to shatter the illusion of normalcy in this moment. And I feel Vash would be the first to ask for more when reality comes knocking (through Wolfwood's fist lol).

He knows, even in a best-case scenario, his time with Wolfwood is limited. And while Vash is just as shackled by duty and guilt as Wolfwood, he carries an optimism about him that Wolfwood lacks. He needs Woolfwood to know how he feels so he can live without regret, regardless of the outcome. As such, he takes the leap. Wolfwood, unfortunately, cannot bring himself to share in that optimism. He’s too absorbed in worry about the orphanage, the children and especially Livio. His heart is screaming at him, but he knows he can’t afford to be distracted by his “selfish” desires. So, he rejects Vash by being realistic and hopes he can see that he wants this too, but just can't bear the impending heartbreak due to their circumstances. Vash does see this. He swallows his disappointment and heartbreak, earnestly grateful for the relationship he still has with Wolfwood.

I know my characterization feels like it conflicts with the moment on the couch; Vash can't even look at Wolfwood for that entire scene despite Wolfwood being the one to try and connect with him ("You look better...when you smile."). However, I never saw that moment as Vash rejecting Wolfwood. Not in the traditional sense at least (maybe an inadvertent rejection). Vash wanted more between them (to share his tomorrows), but not like this - not as a deathbed confession. He's heartbroken and grieving and (somewhat selfishly) can't see that Wolfwood just wants to enjoy his last moments with the one person on this planet he can call an equal and a friend.

Speaking of the dreaded couch scene, I don't think I can add anything new to the discourse, but I will say the tragedy for me really lies in all the emotions Wolfwood goes through:

Being at peace with his death ("This is the way you want it?" "Yeah."). It's what he believed he deserved, with all the blood on his hands, and the mutation of his body, he assumed he could never return to his previous life with everyone at the orphanage.

Grieving for his future (confetti). Wolfwood never believed he could be forgiven. The children celebrating his return showed their acceptance of him, welcoming him back regardless of his sins. He was worthy of forgiveness. His guilt prevented him from even entertaining the thought of forgiving himself. There must have been regret in those tears.

Seeking comfort from the one person he grew to truly trust and Vash not being strong enough to give it. I already mentioned this above, but Vash not even being able to look at Wolfwood throughout the entire couch scene tears me up.

From the narrative's perspective, Wolfwood needed to die. And even knowing that, it still absolutely destroyed me (and still does). Not just because he died, but because right before his death, he was given a glimmer of hope - that had he survived the fight with Livio, he would have had a chance at happiness.

Last side note here: I've seen discourse online explaining the entire scene is a metaphor for a wedding and I just wanna say, you'll be hearing from my therapist.

[bleeding-hart]

some sketches

based on @theicarusconstellation's writing

I keep thinking of details I left out and stuff I need to fix but if I let myself do that I'm going to go insane so we're leaving it at this

Also some Sirius because they're a fucking king and we love them (I very strongly hc them as genderqueer and using any pronouns, but specifically he/they/she/it)

The dress was a bit of a failure but hey it looks like fabric at least I think maybe

[clutchpowers]

Sooooo... i wanted to stick this little rambly thing at the bottom of the redraw but it would have made it look UGLY so im doing this separately... just wanna talk about the whole thing and What Not.

TLDR: its been a slash positive ride thats been worth it to try "something new" every year and my favorite piece out of all of them is the 9th. also for the curious heres the comparison of the 5th anni piece to the recent one (2018 -> 2023)

anyway. personal post time.

oh where to begin *rocks on my rocking chair* i guess it would be with the 5th anniversary piece...at the time it had been a long while since i did lineless art and i thought it would be cool to try it again for that one so i did by redrawing an old piece from 2014... that was the first "finished piece" i made of Them. i think i even made it into a wallpaper for myself lmao. anyway after i posted it i was like "aw man i should draw something every year until the 10th" but i thought yeah right. im going to forget next year like the idiot i am. but i Some How managed to do one every year... th worms got me... i honestly didnt think id make it all the way to the 10th but i did!! AND WITHOUT MISSING A DAY EXCEPT FOR THE 7TH WHERE I WAS A WEEK LATE???? UNREAL especially when fun fact! every year i had no idea what i wanted to do! all i knew for sure is that i wanted each piece to be out of my comfot zone to push me to do something a little different. unfortunately the subjects tm where always the same so it feels a little. samey. but these are my celebratory posts I GET TO ONLY POST ABOUT THE OTP SUPER BLORBOS OF ALL TIME

the 6th anniversary was a redraw of that one scene. you know the one. the helicopter one. fucking hate that scene btw it actually causes me psychic damage i cant watch with the audio or ill scream. but it is my favorite scene of mine despite all the horrors it causes <3 and i wanted to redraw it as if it was a cartoon... like i had taken screencaps from the lcu cartoon in my head. i still remember the backgrounds being such a pain in the ass. honestly id like to go back and redo this one one day too or do something similar to the concept because its a fun one that i always saw done growing up and i wanted to try it myself.

for the 7th anniversary you can see the turn.. no more humans... return to lego... i was getting a little more confident in drawing them in the lego form so i did another redraw this time with the ending!! honestly i still like this one and how it looks even with how late it was but i wanted to test my confidence and do a real True and Finished piece with COLORED LINES and EVERYTHING!!!!! im glad i ended up taking the turn because for the LONGEST TIME i wanted to try and draw them as lego so bad because all i did was draw them as humans and its funny because now its the exact opposite. glad this piece was kinda the solidification in my head that yeah okay im a bit better at drawing the stylized lego toy now i can keep drawing them like this without feeling like im going to want to delete this in 2 weeks.

the 8th anniversary one is so weird. somewhere toward the beginning of the year it got into my head that i wanted to do a comic of them but time/school would have gotten in the way so i ended up opting for a page. another redraw of the ending scene which honestly out of all of them this is my least favorite one and its solely because its all so off. i def could have formated it better so the background shot doesnt take up the entire fucking page but then again im not a comic guy and this was my first time so the layout was bound to look HORRID but this is something id like to come back to ive had the idea of making like a genuine short comic about them since FOREVER and now that im a bit more experienced (lying) i would like to make one day!!!! just gotta stop getting caught up in my scripts!! and going in circles!! Because im obviously not a writer and i keep getting first-hand embarrassment from these!! but ill get over it one day lol.

OH THE 9TH ANNIVERSARY PIECE MY BELOVED. ONE OF MY FAVORITE PIECES ACTUALLY i love this stupid thing so much you have no idea.i know its re-using lineless but i just loved the idea of what it would look like lineless AND IT CAME OUT SO PERFECT I LOVE IT SO MUCH obv it needs a few touch-ups so the main issues dont stand out to me but god. i love this piece so much. idk what came out of me to make this but its so good ill never get over it. and the little lego them as a cake topper ITS JUST SO CUTE I DONT HAVE MUCH TO SAY OTHER THAN I LOVE THIS SO MUCH SORRY

finally. the 10th anniversary piece. oh my god. okay. i need everyone to understand this. i had woken up with this fucking Unbearable pounding headache that was trying to kill me. my body the entire day wanted me to stop and lie down, but last night i was already done with a good chunk of it and all i had to do that day was finish some lines and the coloring?? i literally don't remember all i remember is my body actively trying to shut down and force me to stop and sleep which i took a nap? didnt help. so i said fuck it im finishing this. i was. an entire goddamn corpse arched over my laptop. i was so delirious the entire time its a fucking miracle it even came out as good as it did but honestly. i still hate how it fucking looks. like you can TELL when i gave up (the shading) and it sticks out like a sore fucking thumb to me and it pisses me off because i knew i could have done so much better if i wasnt being stricken down by gods hand and his every attempt to get me to rest. idk like im generally proud ot it, with this one i wanted to go out with a bang tm so i tried to draw every important and relevant character instead of ALL of them like I was originally planning LMAO but ah well. maybe one day when im faster at drawing. this one i defiantly wanna go back and touch up but i everytime i open the file i can see 40 more things wrong with it and it drives me nuts. so ill just have to wait for when im ready. i guess.

can i just say though. the improvement is crazy. it always catches me off guard because tbh i uh. dont like my own art. im getting better at not fucking hating it because i can pinpoint everything wrong with it but whenever i see the side by sides it always surprises me. i always dont think im improving but then i see it and its like wow i really am getting better! i still suck at 3000 things but im getting better! and its overall just a nice thing to see after having drawn them for as long as i have... the power of the worms is strong and has ruined my brain...... speaking of i know ive said a few times that i fucking hate certain pieces, not just LCU related ones but almost anything i post, but if you love them and are able to look at them with a twinkle in your eye then thank you. genuinely. i honestly love looking over the tags of people exploding and saying nice things. it warms my cold little heart and im glad there are people out there that genuinely love some of the things what i do! even if its just fanart and its just their blorbo. thank you for sticking around even tho all i do is draw my otp super blorbos :'^) this game means the world to me and im glad like more than 2 people wanna spread it around.

to wrap back around to the anniversary stuff and speaking of big love to the people out there THE FREAKING EPIC ZINE i was just a small thing but it came out amazing even for how small it was thank you to the contributors and thank you to everyone whos downloaded it!! its still getting the occasional and i love getting the notif in my email about it. i love that there are still people out there who wanna see it and all the hard work everyone put into it to celebrate the games 10th just thank you again i really does mean alot to me ALSO IF YOU HAVENT CHECKED IT OUT PLEASE DO IT IS 100% WORK YOUR TIME AND ITS DIGITAL WITH PRINT AT HOME STICKERS AND YOU CAN KEEP IT AND LOOK AT IT FOREVER

uh to end this off....would I like to do this again..... I mean I kinda am? by that i mean ill do the big numbers (15, 20, 25, 30, 40, etc) till the day i freaking die!!!! but yeah no countdown stuff ever again!!!!! sorry :^( it was super fun to do though!!!! and im glad i did it that piece is the conclusion to the whole thing but that doesnt mean ill stop drawing them. duh. theyre my characters now! but heres to many more anniversaries and to hopefully another game! or to just see them again in any other lego media! or even better... a mischaracterized cameo in ninjago!

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Perfect Size

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: reader is described as short, name-calling, swearing, Daemon being a horny menace, soft!dom! Daemon, talk of impregnation, talk of pregnancy, pregnancy, smut

Summary: It was Daemon’s life mission to remind you of your size difference, in every aspect of your shared lives.

A/N: This is part of the wonderful @targaryen-dynasty 3K celebration, congrats by the way!!!! I had so much fun with this prompt. Enjoy everyone and enjoy the other wonderful and talented writers' fics. 3K Celebration Masterlist

My masterlist

The gods make humans in their image. They make them grow until they see them as perfect. Or so your Septa used to say whenever you were frustrated about your small stature. And it was no help that the greatest rake of the realm, Lord Flea Bottom, the Rouge Prince himself, made it his life’s mission to remind you of how small you were.

As children, you had been a bit taller than him. He had a problem with it. The need to be bigger than a stupid girl was great. His growth spurt came and he nearly towered over you, looking down at you with a smirk on his lips. “How is the weather down there?” He would often tease. “Just fine.” You would retort back. “I hope your small brain will get enough air up there. A shame if you lost more of it.” Was your sarcastic comeback.

The older the two of you got, the taller he would get and you would only grow a few inches if you even grew at all. First, he was slightly lanky. His muscles had yet to grow. He would remind you of a newborn horse whenever he would stumble over his two long feet as he trained with his sword. Often giggling to his dismay.

“I will cut your head off, and then you will be smaller!” He would shout in anger when he saw you snickering. Daemon’s temper seemed to grow with every inch he gained. You enjoyed it immensely when it would rise because of you.

As young adults, it was fairly certain that you would grow no more. If you stood behind one of the large dinner chairs you could easily hide behind them. Everything seemed to dwarf you.

Daemon prided himself in the knowledge that he was taller than you. Towering over you like the Hightower in Oldtown. And he never passed down the opportunity to remind you. “Shouldn’t you be with your nurse, little one? I think you got the wrong room. The nursery is that way.” Or other things.

You would glare at him. Often kicked his shin when no one was watching. He would yowl in pain. Jump around and hold his leg. “You little pest.” “Maybe you should get your head out of the clouds.” You teased back.

But there were the times he would call you more affectionate words associated with your small stature.

“Why the sour face, my little love?” He mumbled into your ear as he stepped out of the shadows. He had been hiding from his grandmother and her attempts to put boring and plain noblewoman under his nose.

A huff of annoyance escaped your throat. “Mother forced me to wear this ridiculous gown.” You seethed. Your teeth bared like a wolf snarling.

Daemon found your discomfort rather amusing. You looked like a pretty doll all dressed up. Your hair braided into the style of the land you came from. The gown so unmistakably the colours of your house, shining in the light of the candles.

"Oh, no - you're a lady and you have to wear pretty dresses and jewels and oh no, how horrible!" He teased you lightly. He leaned his head on top of yours. A habit he adopted quite recently. Loving the way you fit under him.

You snorted, very un-ladylike. But he was used to your characteristics. You were not one of those up-tied, boring wenches who tried to turn his head. He would rather gauge his eyes out before he gave them a second of his attention.

His attention was only worthy of one woman. And she was right literally under his nose.

He leaned down, just next to your ear. His hot breath fanned over the sensitive shell. “Do you think it would fit?” You could feel the smirk in his voice. You turned to him with a confused look on your pretty face.  It stayed that way until you felt something. You felt it, him. Hard as a rock, pocking you through the fabric of your wedding gown.

Your face grew hotter than the flames of Caraxes. Your body stiffened as you felt him softly rub against your buttocks. He only laughed lowly. His chest vibrates, sending chills up and down your spine. “You scoundrel!” You lowly scoffed. Your heart beating faster.

Not from his antics. Oh no, you were used to them by now. About the whole banquet finding out about Daemon’s little innuendo. “Oh, little love. I am your scoundrel now. It was ordered by the Queen herself.” He chuckled darkly.

She hit his shoulder lightly. “Stop it!” You tried to reprimand him. But your words fell on deaf ears. “Oh, my little love. How funny you will look with my seed growing inside you.” He began to whisper his lewd words. “You probably won’t be able to walk, so large your belly will grow.”

Your body grew hotter and hotter. It didn’t help that he had you pressed to his chest. His erection pressed against the cheeks of your perfect ass. His hands wander lazily over the front of your dress. Stopping over your belly before wandering further down.

“Oh my little love, will it even fit in your little tight hole? Or will I have to mould your little cunny so only my cock can fit inside?” Your breathing hitched at his dark, lustful words. Daemon’s predatory smile grew at your body's reaction to his scandalous words whispered so softly into your ear.

He often wondered if he was unfair to his wife. She was small, her body had nearly strained from the weight of the beautiful two children she had already given him.

He was right at their wedding feast. Her swollen stomach looked too large for her body. It hadn’t been long before the first signs of pregnancy made themselves known.

From the small bump only three moons after they conceived. He still can remember how his hands could cover it until she was seven moons pregnant. She had been ordered to rest. To not exhaust herself too much.

Daemon, looking at the image of her laying in their bed, their little one nestled in her belly. The sight did things to him. Things where his darkest desires seemed light in comparison. Oh, how he had spent his days behind her, driving himself into her tight cunt instead of sitting in a boring small council meeting. His wife and unborn child needed him, and he needed them.

“Another one?” You looked at him from where you stood. Children’s toys in your arms as you helped your daughters clean the room for the day.

Daemon just shrugged. “Why not? Add another one to our hoard. What about you girls? Do you want another sibling?” He crouched down so he was level with Alyssa and Visenya. Both girls looked away from their task to clean up the solar, screeching with joy as their father spoke to them.

“They are tots, Daemon.” You protested. Picking up more of the girls’ toys. “They will agree to anything if you say it with enough enthusiasm.” Daemon chuckled. “Oh, I think they know what I am saying, elillus (honey).” He smirks softly. His eyes roamed her body without shame.

“It has been so long.” “It has only been a few hours. You had me in the morrow.” You snapped back. Cleaning your daughters’ toys from the floor. Putting it into the chest designated for their toys. “I did not mean our coupling, prūmȳs ñuhus (my heart). I meant another child. The girls are six and four.” He mumbled gently.

She looked up at him sitting in the armchair at the edge of the carpet where the girls were playing moments ago. His violet eyes were dark as he watched her like the hunter his prey. “I don’t know, valzȳrys (husband). You heard the maester's words after Visenya’s birth.”

Daemon saw the change in demeanour. He nearly had you, only a small push. “It is your choice, ābrāzȳrys (wife). I do not want to force you.” He stood up, kissing your forehead before helping you with cleaning the toys up.

You were tossing and turning in bed. Nothing seemed right. Thoughts swirled through your head. So many voices at once.

You wanted to scream. But you would only wake up your family.

“Tell me what is keeping you from sleep, ābrāzȳrys (wife)” Daemon's gravel voice rang through the room. He sounded tired. His back turned to you.

“It’s nothing.” You whispered. “Bullshit!” Daemon groaned. Turning to face you. “It feels like I am sleeping next to a bloody sack of kittens. What is it.” He tiredly glared at her. Knowing full well what was going on.

“You’ve gotten into my head, you menace!” You growled out. Pouting at him. His usual smirk grew on his lips, a soft chuckle escaping. “Apologies for that, ābrāzȳrys (wife).“ „You are not sorry, Daemon.” His grin widened more. “You know me so well.”

A huff escaped your lips. “Why must you torment me so?” Daemon sat up on his forearm, looking down at you. Your hair was splayed out in a messy halo. A bright smile adorned his face as he saw the light, tired glare and the pout on your lips.

“Oh, little love, I vowed to be the bane of your existence since we played with the small dragon figurines our daughters’ play with now. And ever since it was announced you would be my dear lady wife I swore to torture you even more.” He softly nipped at your collarbone, his large hands coming to rest on your rips, just under your breasts.

“Let me help you with your decision-making. Let me enter your little cunny and stay there when I cum. Let my seed fill your womb once more.” His imposing frame loomed over you. Covering you like a blanket.

“What if the maester is right?” “The maesters are cunts who want to see me unhappy and you in doubt. They told you after Alyssa you could not carry another child. Two years later they said the same after Visenya.” He kissed your shoulder gently before his expressive violet eyes stared at you. “What is your body telling you?”

You bit your lip gently, A small rumble going through Daemon’s chest at your gesture. But he restrained himself. “I want another one.” You whispered gently.

A smile broke greater than before out on his lips, his dimples showing. “I will not let anything happen to you. The moment your body is resisting, I will get you moon tea or whatever is necessary.” You nodded gently.

His eyes darkened with lust. “Now before we can even discuss the pregnancy, we must make it happen.”

He lifted himself so his arms were on either side of your head. “Oh my sweet, I longed to fill up your little cunny. Seeing it overflow with my seed. Stuffing it back in.” He laughed gently as you shuddered.

With haste born of his pent-up desire, he ripped all of your clothes off your and his body. You gasped softly, scolding him for literally ripping your nightgown. “I never liked it anyway.” He mumbled against the skin between your breasts. Slowly moving down to your stomach.

He worshipped your body, caressing your thighs and hips. Squeezing the flesh around them, even gently nibbling on it.

He kissed each and every lightning-bold-like scar. Mumbling with every kiss a small thanks. These were the marks of his children. Evidence of your brave sacrifice.

He went further down. His lips ghosted over the soft locks, his eyes watching you heave out breaths of anticipation.

A loud scream ripped from your throat when you felt his tongue plunge deeply into your wet core. The eagerness of his lapping overwhelmed your senses. His nose ever so lightly brushed against your pearl. Teasing it to shoot lightning throughout your body.

You came undone. His tongue, nose and two of his digits working in tandem to torture you. And it worked. Your back arched off the bed. Loud cries of his name and pleas for him to stop accompanied your downward spiral into the abyss of your pleasure.

He stared down at you hungrily. His vibrant eyes were dark with lust. He looked every bit the dragon he ought to be. “Little rabbit.” He growled out. “Sweet, little rabbit. Trapped beneath the large dragon.”

He leaned down again. Like Caraxes would decent upon his pray, Daemon came down upon you. Devouring you once more.

He held your thighs wide open as he ploughed into you. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin rang through the room. His large hand wrapped around your delicate neck, softly pressing against it. Your breathing coming out in small pants.

“You should see yourself, little darling. My large hand is like a necklace on your throat. I can nearly wrap it around.” He chuckled darkly.

His words elicited shivers to run up and down your spine. This action causes your body to tense slightly. Daemon roared as he felt you squeeze his cock. “Seven fucking hells, woman! Do you want to kill me?!” He panted out. Driving his cock deeper inside you. The stretch is a familiar pain. But not too unpleasant. He had prepared you for him. And he would hate for you not to enjoy your coupling.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, sensual kiss. It was so different from the way his hips moved. So slow and loving. “I am not hurting you, am I, my little darling?” He whispered. You shook your head. “Nothing I am not used to from you.” He grinned, nipping at your lower lip, “That’s my good girl.” He whispered.

He picked up his pace. His hands on your thighs clawing into your skin. His knuckles are white. He groaned and grunted, looking down at you with an intense stare. Your own moans and cries mingle with his. Creating a symphony of pleasure.

He came with a roar of your name, his face buried into your neck. Panting heavily next to your ear. Your own climax is triggered by the feeling of being filled with his potent seed. Both your eyes closed in bliss.

He stayed inside you even as his member softened inside you. The grip on your thigh remains tight. Like he needed to be grounded by you.

Your arms wrapped tighter around his neck, softly caressing his head. He hummed gently, letting you know he loved what you were doing. “Do not dare to stop.” He mumbled gently into your neck. You continued with your caress. Softly petting him like he was a dog.

He fell asleep like this. His spent cock inside you, keeping his precious seed inside you. His body acted like a blanket. Your hand in his hair.

[rafesangelita]

omg congrats on the 5k! can i order a freshly baked slice of warm vanilla cake [🍰] for bitchykook! reader + “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid” + smut

warnings: kinda mean!reader lol, rafe is desperateeee, oral sex (f. receiving), rafe finishes in his pants (!!!)

rafe wasn’t a desperate guy. he could have any girl he wanted, except you of course, and that drove him crazy. he was so used to girls bending at his will, that when he made advances towards you and you outright rejected him, it threw him for a loop. “fuck a guy that’s been in every bed in figure eight? no, thank you.” you blew him a kiss, walking off with a laugh as your friends cackled alongside you. rafe’s ego had definitely taken a blow that night, and it was from that point forward that he decided to make it a mission to get you to say yes to him.

he would find out where you and your clique would be for the evening and show up, buying rounds of drinks for you and your girlfriends, only to not be acknowledged or even waved at by you. rafe couldn’t crack you and he hated it. taking it a step further, he managed to get dozens of flowers sent over to your house, a pathetic little card with the words ‘just one time.’ written in gold script was folded into one of the bouquets. the next time you saw him, he wasted no time in asking if you’d received his ‘romantic’ gesture. “i did actually! but just for future reference, roses aren’t my favorite. bye now!”

you had left rafe at a loss for words, and feeling more defeated than ever. apart of you would feel bad if he was begging for a chance to actually be with you instead of just using you to add to his list. that was one of the reasons why you were being so cruel to him, the second reason being; you loved to see the drop in his shoulders everytime he thought he had you. a few weeks had passed, and you were throwing a party for your best friend, the entirety of figure eight taking over your home. “i’ll be right back, i’m going to go get your gift.” your bestie squealed excitedly as you went upstairs to your bedroom.

walking over to your closet, you had grabbed the glittery pink gift bag, your door clicking shut as you fixed the white tissue paper peeking at the top. “chanel! this is supposed to be a surprise..” you looked up, being met with rafe instead. “what do you think you’re doing in here?” you arched a brow at him, jutting your hip out as he fiddled with his fingers. “i just wanna talk.” he held his hands up defensively. narrowing your eyes at him, you placed chanel’s gift on your nightstand before taking a seat at the edge of your bed. “well.. talk.” you watched as he lowered himself to his knees.

you laughed. “rafe, what the hell?” you let him rest his hands on your thighs. “why won’t you give me a chance?” his eyebrows were drawn together, a pleading expression on his face. “a chance to get me out of my panties?” rafe sighed. “you want it that bad?” you weren’t surprised, rafe wasn’t the first man to get on his knees for you. “yes, i’m begging.” you studied him for a moment. “i’ll tell you what..” you leaned forward, “you could have a taste.” rafe’s fingers curled into your skin, nodding frantically as he spread your thighs apart. you watched him slide the lace material of your underwear down your legs, your dress pooling at your waist.

rafe cursed at the sight of your bare cunt. he’s been fantasizing about this for months. “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” he marveled, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes fluttering closed when you felt his tongue run up your glossy folds. “oh my god- you taste so good.” while everyone knew rafe to be an intimidating man with an even rougher exterior, you had him crying at the fact that he got to eat you out. so, so, so pathetic. rafe was already hard as a rock, his cock straining painfully against his jeans.

“holy fuck, i can’t believe this is happening.” he felt his chest bloom with pride when he made you moan, desperate to make you do it again. his tongue worked skillfully on your clit as he palmed himself to relieve some tension in his groin. you couldn’t deny the way rafe had you melting into his touch, your skin sore from where he had a bruising grip on your thigh. you reached down, nails running across his head as he ate you like a man starved. “rafe..” you whimpered, hips chasing his mouth as your voice echoed in his ears. he could die happy knowing you moaned his name.

rafe was still palming himself through his pants, a groan leaving his lips when he felt his cock twitch with need. “please let me fuck you.” he gazed up at your pretty face, meeting your eyes as if to persuade you to let him have his way. “just the tip, baby, please.” you shook your head, propping yourself up on your elbows. “you wanna fuck me so bad, it makes you look stupid.” soon after you said those words, you were shaking in his arms as he brought you to your orgasm, a cry leaving your lips. rafe’s eyes widened. you weren’t the only one who made a mess.

he brought you down from your high, cursing under his breath when he looked down and saw a wet patch on the front of his jeans. following his eyes, you placed a hand over your mouth aa you gasped at the sight. “oh my god, did you cum in your pants, ‘cameron?” you giggled using your heel clad foot to push him away. “you should probably go home and clean yourself up..” was the last thing you said before leaving him alone and taking chanel’s gift downstairs.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch1. he said yes!! congrats!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 7.8k

a/n. hellooo omg welcome to this debut chapter!! tysm to everyone who wanted to be on taglist for this!! i was gagged at the amount of people!! yall are amazing omg n thanks for supporting my works :''') hope you enjoy this chapter and i will see all you lovelies at the bottom <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

Love thy neighbor.

Cherish thy neighbor.

Tolerate thy neighbor.

Peacefully coexist with thy neighbor. 

Fuck thy neighbor? No, wait, not that one.

It’s murder thy neighbor. That was the phrase you were looking for.

Murder thy neighbor so gruesomely that you’d leave no trace behind. Murder him and bury him somewhere no one could ever find him, so that even in millions of years from now when some other highly advanced mammalian species overtakes the planet and embarks on journeys to acquire fossils, thy neighbor will still never grace the atmospheric oxygen of the earth ever again. It’s the punishment he’d deserve for thoroughly pissing you off at the worst times possible and in the worst ways possible. The smallest of prices to pay.

“SATORU!!!” you yell, storming up the sudsy driveway of your next-door neighbor’s house at eight in the morning, clad in your dirty scrubs from the hell of a night shift you just endured working at the hospital, glass containers inside the lunchbox you were holding hitting painfully against the poor joint in your knee but you just don’t care. Anger is all you can see right now.

Your neighbor (derogatory) stands there in his pajamas with a spray nozzle in his hands, passively spraying water across the top surface of his car, and when he sees you, he pulls his left airpod out of his ear and looks you up and down once. You’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of your ears. “Uh, do you mind? I’m trying to wash my car.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to park your stupid boat in front of my driveway?!” you yell at him, voice hoarse and nails digging into the skin of your palms by the clench of your fists.

“Hm?” he leans back a little to glance past you to his boat. “Oh, you mean my 2023 Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with low profile bow rail welded stainless steel, Mercury FourStroke hydraulic power steering and, not to mention, a platinum gelcoat hull? That silly old thing? It’s not even parked in front of your driveway.”

“Yes. It is. Are you blind? I can’t move my car into my garage, hence why it’s running idle on the fucking street right now. Your boat’s on my property.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh. Yuh-huh.”

“Honey. I’m a real estate agent. You don’t think I’d know where my own property line starts and ends?”

“Park. It. On. Your. Drive. Way.”

“I spent a lot of money on that boat,” he sighs, “I intend to show it off on the street. Stop acting like there isn’t more than enough room for your tiny prius. It’s not my fault you have the motor skills of a toddler and don’t know how to pull into a driveway,” he pauses for a second and tilts his head upwards in thought, “Oh. Motor skills, haha, get it? Fuck, that’s funny. Hold on, I gotta jot that down,” he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his cotton plaid pajama pants, “my niece would love that. She gets all giggly about puns these days. It’s her birthday next weekend, by the way, turning five.”

“Oh, right,” you scratch the top of your head (been too busy to wash your hair), and realize the ponytail you threw your hair up into at the beginning of your shift last night is now barely hanging on for dear life, “I forgot to tell you, but my cousin said he can’t rent that pony out for her birthday party anymore. Apparently it died.”

He stares at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

He shrugs. “That’s fine, thanks anyway,” he swipes up on his phone, “they had crazy hair day at my niece’s elementary school yesterday, wanna see a picture?”

“Sure.”

He turns his phone to show you. “My sister let her cut her hair a little shorter this time since she wouldn’t stop asking. I guess all her friends at school were cutting theirs short too so they wanted to be matching.”

“Aww,” you pout with a small smile when you see the picture, “I think it suits her. That’s a lot of glitter though, y’know that stuff’s really bad for the environment.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning his phone screen back to face him, “anyway. I was halfway convinced you just came from some crazy hair day when I saw you stomp up my driveway just now.”

“I’m gonna guillotine your head off with the trunk door of my car. Now move your boat.”

“Hold on one sec,” he says, holding a finger right up to your face, and you flinch backwards slightly before going cross-eyed to stare at it, and then you’re glaring at him again. His phone is ringing in his hand. “I gotta take this.”

“Wha–” you try to interrupt him, but he just says shhh and shakes his finger in front of you, which makes you want to bite it off.

“Hi, Donna!” he exclaims into his phone, “so good to hear from you. Oh, no, not at all, you caught me at the perfect time. I’m just washing my car. Nah, you’re not interrupting anything.”

The urge to smack him consumes you.

“Oh okay, cool, I’m glad you took some time to think about it. Let me know when you want to meet again, if you’re still interested in the house, we can make an offer. Uh huh. Yeah. Sorry, what’s that? Oh,” he pulls his phone from his ear to look at the time, “yeah, that’s fine. Is that the one on 6th street? Sure, I’ll see you then. By the way, how was little Tommy’s soccer game yesterday?...Aw, that’s okay, he’ll get the next one. Hm? Yeah, what’s up? Oh, you know that I’d love to, and there’s no one that enjoys your green bean casserole more than I do, but I’m actually busy tonight! I know! Bummer! Maybe some other time? Alright. Yeah, thanks, you too. Take care. Bye.” He presses the end call on his phone, and there’s an awkward silence as he narrows his eyes at the screen in concentration for a moment while typing something onto it, and then the corner of his eye catches sight of something in his periphery, that something being you, and he jumps a little.

“Oh fuck,” he places a hand on his chest and exhales, “I didn’t know you were still standing there.”

“I’m seriously going to whack you across the face with my lunch box right now.” 

“That gigantic industrial lunch box you carry around for your 12-hour shifts?” he points at your hand, “you’d have blood on your hands. I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal, idiot.”

“You’re so fucking violent, jeez, I bet the inside of your head looks like the inside of Jeffrey Dahmer’s. How do you sleep at night?”

“With fifteen milligrams of melatonin, blackout curtains, a satin sleeping mask, and in the mornings.”

“...that didn’t make you sound like any less of a serial killer.”

“Whatever, at least I don’t have a complex for elderly divorced women. You know that what you do for work isn’t any better than prostitution, right?” 

“Okay. Now I have to hear where you’re going with this.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and your gigantic industrial sized lunch box with the millions of glass containers inside of it hits your hip painfully, enough to warrant a wince, but you keep a straight face as to not show any weakness. “You flirt with vulnerable women who have just gotten out of probably extremely heartbreaking marriages from their cheating country golf club husbands, and pretend to care about all their drama, just so that they’d buy a house from you. I literally heard you say to a lady the other day,” and you do your absolute best to mock him in the most insulting way possible, “‘it’s okay Lorraine. If you’re still struggling to fill your new house with someone new too, then you know where to find me.’”

“Yeah. She wanted to rent out her guest bedroom. I was gonna help her look for tenants.” 

“O-Oh,” you stutter, but stand up straighter, “doesn’t matter. You still pimp yourself out for a sale.”

“So what if I do? I’m hot, why wouldn’t I take advantage of that? You could’ve done the same thing too, but you didn’t, and now you’re stuck working miserable nursing shifts that are probably taking years off of your lifespan.”

“You’re the one taking years off of my lifespan. Now move your fucking boat.”

He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket before walking past you to your car, that still had the driver’s side door open and was idle in the middle of the street.

“W-Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’m gonna park your car in your garage for you,” he says, waving his hand up in the air dismissively because he knows you’re about to protest, and then he ducks his head into your car, reaching his arm in for the lever that moves the seat backwards, and adjusts it all the way back before he’s able to take a seat at the wheel. And your yelling is a pestering he pays no mind to as he shuts the door.

“Wait– I didn’t give you permission to–” you shout as you step into your driveway, holding your arms out because you’re scared he’s gonna chip off your side mirror on the stern of his boat, but he deftly pulls your car into the driveway. He also almost runs you over in the process.

When he gets out of your car inside your garage, you storm right up to him and yank your car keys out of his hand. “You almost flattened me over my own driveway.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been standing there,” he easily retorts and leans against your car before crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, case proven, there’s more than enough space to pull your car in. You’re just piss poor at parking.”

“I swear to fucking god. If you’re ever in a life-threatening emergency and wind up at my hospital, your emergency isn’t going to be the thing that kills you, it’s gonna be the cocktail of deadly meds I inject straight into your veins. And I’ll have it charted like it was a death of natural causes.”

His brow furrows and he frowns, but it’s in that sarcastic way that tells you he’s not threatened by you, and the idea of using the taser in your purse on him is briefly entertained in your mind, “I’ve got Kaiser, hun,” he says, “I wouldn’t go to just any regional hospital for healthcare. Put some damn decorum on my name, Jesus.”

“How is it you’re stupid, an asshole, have a sick fetish for elderly women, and also somehow classist at the same time? Can you pick a struggle please?”

“Stop saying I have a fetish for elderly women,” he hisses at you, “especially with that loud obnoxious voice of yours. Our neighbors are gonna think I’m a creep.” He pretends to shiver.

“But it’s true. I bet you lost your virginity to a fifty-year-old cougar the day you turned eighteen. And to one that was probably grooming you even before then, too.”

His eyes widen. “Damn. How’d you know.”

“That you’re a victim?” you ask, tone derisive, “your entire personality is living proof. Please seek help.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was never groomed, and I didn’t lose my virginity to an elderly woman,” he corrects you, “...although said woman was a little older than me.”

“I’ve literally got no fucking interest in this conversation anymore. Get the fuck out of my garage,” you practically spat at him, “the last thing I need to deal with after getting off of a 12-hour night shift is coming home to your stupid face out on the street.” You push past him, making sure to nudge him with your shoulder but he hardly budges, and you lose balance from your own attack, and now you’re doubly pissed off before you make it to the door with your keys jingling in your hand to find the right one to unlock it.

“Good night,” he calls out to you, and you click the button on the garage door so that it starts closing, and watch him as he panics before ducking his head underneath it to make it outside before you can essentially lock him to rot inside of your garage, and then you shut the door behind you, finally inside the comfort of your home.

Ah. Silence.

But it was never a comfortable one. 

“Mom?” you call out as you open the door out of the laundry room to make it into the living room, and your eyes scan the floor. You don’t see her in the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the TV, sometimes she spends time in the pantry room but she’s not in there today. You round the corner over to where the front entrance of the house is, and you see her standing there, peering out of the window to the other houses on the streets. She holds her hands loosely behind her back, and she’s so still she could be a statue.

“Hey,” you say to her, softly, so as not to startle her. “I’m home.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and you realize her line of sight was set to next door, where you see Gojo has resumed the wash of his car. “Why are you yelling at that sweet boy across the lawn?” she asks you, “he helped me fix the air conditioning last week.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but then you sigh. Typical Gojo getting involved where he should really just mind his own business. “I’m pretty sure by fix you mean he just pressed a bunch of buttons on the thermostat until it started working again.” 

She doesn’t respond as she continues to stare out onto the street, tilting her head slightly while deep in thought, like she’s trying to make sense of what she sees. 

“Mom,” you gently tug her sleeve, “I think you should get away from the window and get some rest. You look tired, and I need to take you for chemo in the afternoon.”

She gently pulls her elbow away from your grip of her sleeve and turns to look at you. “Mom?” she repeats after you, “why are you calling me ‘mom’? Who are you?”

Your blood runs cold from her words, but you don’t have the time or the luxury to react in the way that you want to, and so you suck in a deep breath. It was one of those days. But it’s cruel that she’ll remember your neighbor and not her own daughter. “I’m your daughter,” you gently reintroduce yourself, to the woman who gave you life, “I know that might be a little weird to hear right now.”

“No…” she says, “I think that makes sense. I’m sorry, dear, I think I have a bad memory these days.” She looks at you with concentration, studying the features of your face. “My daughter, yes. You look…oh, dear, you look like you should sleep.”

You nod slowly, releasing the breath you were holding. “Yes. You too, mom.”

You place your gigantic industrial lunch box on the kitchen counter, and come back to hold your mom’s hands as you lead her to her bedroom downstairs. By the time you fix her a small meal in the kitchen, bring it to her and make her eat so she can take her pills, she’s ready to take a small nap and you know that you’ve earned some sleep now too.

The upstairs master bathroom beckons you the second you get upstairs, and even though you’ve been using the master bedroom & bathroom in this house ever since moving your mom downstairs four years ago since she had trouble getting up the stairs, it still feels odd to stand in front of the sink without a stool underneath your feet, like what you had to when you were a kid and your mother would braid your hair. You’re a grown woman now, and as you stare at your reflection, you’re not sure if you can recognize yourself anymore. But rather than dwell on if it was because of any profound reason, you figured you just needed a shower and to get some sleep before you have to wake up again in five hours. Exhaustion is evident on your face, and you swipe under your eyes to get the smudge of mascara off before it tattoos your skin forever. 

Hot water on your skin does little to help your drowsiness, but at least now you feel clean of your shift, and then you remember there are blood stains on your shoes from the stab wound patient that rolled in at 2AM last night, and you should really let them soak for a few hours while you sleep, but you just can’t bother right now. Instead, you slip into something comfortable, draw your curtains back to mimic the dead of night in your room as best as you can, grab the bottle of melatonin sitting at your nightstand and pop a few tablets, feeling feverish as you slip into your sheets. You pull the comforter up over your eyes, a decision that is less ideal than using a sleeping mask since you’ll be breathing your own carbon dioxide until you fall asleep now, but it’s okay. It’s cozy under your blanket. Just this once. And you count sheep to make you sleepy. At least until the melatonin beats you to it.

—

“You’re looking better,” Dr. Johnson says to your mother as he accesses the port on her chest, “were you able to get a good rest?”

Your mother nods and points to you. “My daughter made me take a nap.”

“That’s good,” he coos, “it’s good to get rest before chemo. Your daughter really cares about you.”

“I know,” your mother smiles up at you, “I’m so lucky.” You return her smile with one of your own.

Dr. Johnson starts to push the line of chemo into your mother’s port as she sits on the chair in the treatment lounge, and then stands up from his rolling chair before the nurse quickly moves to twiddle with the drip of the IV bag. 

“Ready for consult?” he asks you.

You grip your binder to your chest. “Yeah.”

You walk into the doctor’s office, one you’ve more than familiarized yourself with over the past couple of years, then take a seat across from Dr. Johnson’s desk as he clicks through his computer before handing you a copy of your mother’s recent lab work.

“Her tumor markers are rising,” you say as you sift through the papers.

“They are, we’ll likely switch to monitoring them every four weeks going forward. But it’s okay, not to worry,” he says, “tumor markers can raise for all sorts of reasons unrelated to cancer.”

“She had a cold last week,” you say, “maybe it’s the inflammation?”

Dr. Johnson lets out a small laugh. “I’m sorry, y/n, sometimes I forget you’re a nurse.” He hums to himself as he pens down something on the notepad in front of him. “When was your mother’s last PET/CT scan?”

“It was in February,” you say, “she’s due soon. I was going to ask if you could order one for her.”

“Yes, I will, I’ll do it right now,” he says as he types something into the computer. “You still have the standing orders for her routine lab work, correct? Do my MAs need to send you the scripts?”

“No, that’s okay, I got them already. Good for six months,” you reassure him.

“Alright, perfect.”

There’s an awkward silence that settles in the room as you shift in your seat with the binder in your lap, full of all of your mother’s medical information and emergency department discharge packets and recent lab work and imaging. You mess with the plastic cover on top of it nervously.

“It’s good she remembers you today,” Dr. Johnson comments, “I remember last week you were upset she didn’t.”

“Oh,” you say, “yeah, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard.”

His eyes leave his computer screen for a second to look at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You nod slowly. You had to be alright, you had no other choice. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say, “um, actually, doc, I just wanted to share with you that I’ve been keeping track of my mom’s Alzheimer’s progression.” You open your binder in your lap, pulling out a packet of papers and placing them on his desk, turning some of them towards him but he doesn’t really spare a proper enough look. “I’ve just been noticing she’s progressively worsening a bit faster than her neurologist had projected.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding curt, and that nervousness comes back. But goddammit, you’re a nurse, you know how to deal with stubborn doctors. And it’s for your mother. There was no one else left to advocate for her except you.

“I was just wondering if we could also order a brain MRI for her?” you ask, “just to rule out anything…her brain fog has been bad, worse than usual, and I’m just really worried about metastasis, especially if it’s a glioma, I’d just want to catch it as soon as possible.”

You have sympathy for oncologists, really, you do. They must deal with paranoid family members all the time, but how could someone blame another for wanting what’s best for their loved one? You don’t think that’s an empathy that anyone should ever lose, regardless of how long you’ve been practicing medicine. 

He sighs. “There’s no indication for that right now, not with her response to treatment as well as her lab work. I’d suggest we just wait on her next PET/CT results, and we can go from there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“I know,” you say, “but her next scan isn’t for another couple weeks, plus the week it’ll take to have it read, it’ll be far out, so…if we could just order it now?”

He interlocks his fingers and places his hands in front of him on the desk, looking at you with a stern face, but he glances down at the paperwork you’ve sprawled in front of him with scribblings of all the detailed notes you’ve been taking of your mom’s responses to her Alzheimer’s treatments, with time stamps and descriptions of her mental state, and his furrowed brow relaxes slightly. He breathes in deep. “Alright. Fine, I’ll order one. I highly doubt we’ll find anything, though. But since there’s no clear clinical impression warranting a brain MRI right now,” he mentions as he directs his attention back to his computer, “I don’t think insurance will cover it for you with the diagnoses I put in.”

“That’s okay,” you quickly respond, “I’ll pay for it.” 

You collect your imaging orders from the medical assistants at the center of the oncology floor. The chemo nurse, Mai, informs you that your mother still has about two hours left before her treatment is done, and she gently suggests you go eat something while you wait. You tell her it’s okay, that you want to wait with her, but she tells you the hospital cafeteria is serving tater tots today for tater tot tuesday, and those tater tots are to die for. But before you go downstairs to the cafeteria, you find a few minutes to cry in a one stall bathroom.

—

“God damn,” you hear your coworker, Hana, dreamily sigh as she leans on the handle on your standing mobile nursing work desk, and you trail her line of sight to the tight asses of the EMT men that walk by while rolling a stretcher. “It’s like being hot is a part of their job requirement.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree mindlessly as you try to catch up on charting for the rounds you just ran on your patients around the emergency department beds.

4/20/2024 0200: patient notified of the importance of taking ibuprofen. Attempted to give pt the medication. Pt responded “suck on this, bitch”, gestured to his general groin area, then threw ibuprofen tablets at RN. pt upset and requests narcotics instead. Informed MD of pt’s behavior and request. MD will not order narcotic pain medication at this time. Will continue to monitor

“How’s your mom doing?” Hana says, interrupting your typing as she turns to face you now.

“She’s okay,” you say, continuing to punch keys as you stare at your monitor, “she has a PET/CT soon. It’s always nerve wracking when the next scan is coming up.”

“Have you given hospice any more thought?” she asks.

You stop typing and stare blankly ahead at your screen as your heart sinks a little. You have given hospice more thought, and you came to the decision about a week ago that you would go through with it. It’s becoming so increasingly difficult taking care of your mom at home, more than you can manage with all of her doctor’s appointments, radiation appointments, chemotherapy appointments, all of which happen during the late mornings or early afternoons so you can’t even properly rest on most days that you come home from night shifts. Even though you only work three shifts a week, you can’t remember the last time you got a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep because of how messed up your circardian rhythm has become. You were practically a walking zombie, and you hardly felt like a person anymore. You’re not going to switch to the day shift, because that would make it difficult to take your mom to her appointments, and also because you get paid extra with the night shift differential, and above all other necessities, what you really needed right now the most was money. Forget the fact you’re still in debt from nursing school, but you co-signed on the medical loans your mother had taken out for treatments, and five years of high acuity medical bills was a living nightmare. And you were living that nightmare. 

“I did,” you say, “I’ve been looking into hospices, but a lot of them are further away than I’d like.” You glance down at your keyboard. “I…I’m going to miss having my mom home. Even though it’s hard to deal with her mood swings and stuff sometimes, I just think the house would feel really empty without her.”

“Aw, my dear,” Hana sighs and rubs her hand up and down your arm soothingly, “I’m sure you’d love to have her home, but I think it’s becoming too much for you. I say this with love and care, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile.”

Your eyes widen slightly from her words, and you release some of the tension in your shoulders, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding onto during this conversation.

“It’s too much for just one person,” she continues, “while I understand you want to spend more time with your mom, the quality of time you’re spending with her could be so much better if you had some weight lifted off your shoulders, where you’re not worrying about her medication schedule or doctor’s appointments or blood draws and all that.”

You nod slowly and manage to give her a small smile, then place your hand over hers that was still soothing over your arm. “Thanks, Hana. I know, I appreciate you looking out for me. I…I think I’ll look more seriously into hospices. It’s just they’re really expensive, too, so I have that to consider as well.”

“Hmm,” she withdraws her hand from you and juts her bottom lip out as she looks up at fluorescent emergency department lighting. You hear a patient cough in the distance as your senses take in the ambient environment once again. “Y’know, there’s this really great new hospice in town that functions as a general facility and also helps manage a lot of chronic diseases too. They have nurses there that do blood draws and everything, and they also transport patients to their affiliated hospital for treatments, like dialysis and chemo and stuff. My friend’s mom has breast cancer and was recently accepted into that hospice,” she tells you, pulling her phone out and looking through some of her messages, “I think it’s only a fifteen minute drive from your house.”

You tilt your head at her with interest, wondering why it didn’t come up on your provider search through insurance, but regardless, it sounded too good to be true. “It’s probably really expensive. My mom’s under the state insurance right now, but I’ve explored government insurance plans too and they’re still really pricey. I just can’t afford it, not with all of her cancer treatments, and adding her under my insurance isn’t really going to be any better either.”

She groans. “I know. What’s with our healthcare plan? You’d think as a hospital, they’d choose better plans for their employees,” she sighs, and then stops to read some of the messages on her phone, “but my friend said that her husband was able to add her mom as a dependant, and his insurance covers 90% of it. I’m sure it depends on the illness, but they only pay a few thousand per month out of pocket.”

You blink at her. “Really? T-That’s insane…do you know what insurance her husband has?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Kaiser facility.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “well, they wouldn’t accept state insurance. That’s a private HMO.”

“Shoot,” Hana looks at you apologetically, “I’m so sorry, love, I forgot about that. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“That’s okay,” you smile at her, “thanks for trying. I’m glad it worked out for your friend, at least.”

Hana glances at her watch and realizes her break is over, so she heads back to her side of the emergency department, and you’re left standing at the nursing station with thoughts running through your head now, and still catastrophically behind on charting.

Hmm.

Kaiser.

You swear someone mentioned that to you recently.

Or maybe you were just remembering another one of those ads you see on television at night. No, no, you’re pretty sure it came up in conversation with someone, but you can’t remember when or why or what or where or who. Hmmmmm. Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser. 

Nope. Nothing.

Oh well, maybe it’ll hit you later.

—

It hits you in the form of an intrusive memory when you wake up on a Thursday afternoon in a cold sweat after having a hallucinogenic melatonin dream where you were getting chased by a giant rabbit (don’t ask). 

Kaiser.

Gojo said he has Kaiser insurance. 

And the idea that comes into your head after that is so ridiculous, so absurd, so positively bonkers that you have to slap the sleepiness off your face for a second to make sure you’re still not in some dream state of living, and the harsh sting on your cheek proves that you’re not. And the idea still persists. And now you’re swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, and grabbing your laptop, and opening it, and inputting your pin, and then spending a good three hours researching if this little idea of yours actually has any good level of merit to it, if it could even succeed, if it was even legal? You even find yourself on the phone with insurance representatives, and you stare at the tens of thousands of dollars of debt on your Excel spreadsheet where you keep track of your finances, and you feel the exhaustion in your bones, and you also remember how fucking annoying Gojo is. And yet still, the idea persists. 

And when the pieces of the plan start to unfortunately fall into place, you say, fuck it. What was worse than potentially getting into six figures of debt? It’ll be fine.

But you can only hope he says yes.

.

.

.

[reading commercial break]

hello!! this is ellie, the author. so sorry to interrupt, there is still a bit left for this chapter, but i just wanted to jump in here real quick to explain for some of my readers that may not be american so they may understand reader’s desperation to financially cover the costs of her mother’s healthcare bills. this story is set in suburban america lol, where the healthcare system is so messed up honestly, and this excerpt from the book the body by bill bryson kinda explains:

“Where America really differs from other countries is in the colossal costs of its health care. An angiogram, a survey by The New York Times found, costs an average of $914 in the United States, but only $35 in Canada. Insulin costs about six times as much in America as it does in Europe. The average hip replacement costs $40,364 in America, almost six times the cost in Spain, while an MRI scan in the United States is, at $1,121, four times more than in the Netherlands. The entire system is notoriously unwieldy and cost-heavy.” p360; “...America spends more on health care than any other nation–two and a half times more per person than the average for all other developed nations of the world. One-fifth of all the money Americans earn–$10,209 a year for every citizen, $3.2 trillion altogether–is spent on health care.” p359

unfortunately, a lot of how much you end up spending at the end of the day, depends significantly on the health insurance that you have. it could make the difference of spending a few hundreds to a few thousands to a few tens of thousands and beyond, just based on the insurance plan, even if the illnesses/treatments are exactly the same.

but yeah, just wanted to provide that context lol!! so you must understand reader’s desperation to save a buck!!! 

ok back to regularly scheduled broadcasting!! 🧚‍♀️💕✨

[end of reading commercial break]

.

.

.

—

You’re sitting at a table outside your favorite cafe in town, leg bouncing up and down underneath the surface impatiently and nervously, and you glance at the time on your phone for the fifth time within the past five minutes because you’re unable to alleviate any of the anxiety you’re experiencing right now. You hear the jingling of the cafe door behind you and then you’re a little startled when someone emerges in your periphery by your side.

You look up and see Gojo standing next to you, and you see he already went inside and grabbed a coffee to-go for himself.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you say with a small wave.

He takes a seat across from you. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks while he settles in and smooths down the fabric of his suit jacket. He’s not wearing a tie, and has a couple of the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal some of the skin at his collarbone. Probably to seduce the divorced single moms, you think. “And if you called me here to try and convince me for the millionth time to pitch in for that fence you built six months ago, I’m just gonna say no again. I didn’t even want that fence built in the first place. It fucked up the roots on my avocado tree.”

“It’s a joint fence. Neighbors usually pitch in for that kind of stuff, asshole. At least normal neighbors do. You know I talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood when you refused to pay and all of them agree that you’re being a stuck-up prick about it?”

“You know that I also talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood and they said the same exact thing about you?”

“Wha–” you gasp, blinking a few times from the betrayal, then mutter “...those two-faced bitches” under your breath.

“So,” he pulls his sleeve back to glance at his watch, “what did you want? I’ve only got thirty minutes to talk before I need to head to an open house.” He brings his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Oh. Right. Just a favor,” you say, “I was wondering if you could marry me.”

He almost spits out his coffee.

“E-Excuse me?” he croaks out, exasperated, and he’s coughing a little bit as he hits his chest with a fist to alleviate the irritation in his throat from some hot coffee that went down the wrong pipe.

“I mean, if it’s not an issue, I’d really appreciate it if you could marry me,” you attempt to clarify, but you realize you probably should’ve thought a little more about how you were going to ask him this, and now you’re too deep to backtrack, so you just hope you’ll find the conversation along the way.

He’s looking at you like you’ve got six heads, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly with that what the fuck? face you see him wear sometimes. But then he sits up a bit straighter, expression morphing into a curious one as he studies your face, head tilting a little in his scrutinization. Then, his face relaxes entirely. He has this knowing look as he nods up and down slowly, like he just figured something out, and then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in some type of faux frustration. And you don’t understand why you’re already seethingly angry about what he’s going to say next.

“Oh god,” he sighs, “I knew this day would come.”

“Huh?” you squeak out.

“Listen,” he says as he crosses his arms, but one of his hands comes out from where it was tucked in his elbow to waive around in the air as he articulates his words, “I know that I’m very charming, and handsome, and chivalrous, one might say the modern knight in shining armor–”

“Satoru.”

“–and yes, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he dramatically sighs, “when I’m taking the groceries up the driveway…when I’m out mowing the lawn…when I stretch on the sidewalk before I go for a run. I feel your eyes on me like a hawk. Quite frankly, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat, and I feel very violated by it sometimes–”

“What the fuck are you talking about???”

“But I get it. Really, I do. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it–”

“I’m not embar–”

“It was really only a matter of time before you would do this. So overcome by your feelings for me that you just had to go against the grain of centuries of matrimonial standards and swallow your gigantic pride to propose to me.” 

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you saying–”

“But,” he says, collecting himself now, and taking in a deep breath, “my answer is no. I mean, I shouldn’t have to explain why. But I will. First of all, where the hell is my ring? Secondly, why aren’t you on one knee in front of me right now? Also, in a cafe? Really? I thought you would’ve known I’d have liked something a little bit more romantic than this. Y’know, private, but also where my family’s somewhere around the corner. Maybe by the beach–”

“Can you stop talkin–”

“–while the sun is setting, and I’m wearing a nice dress, and there’s bubbles in the air and rose petals on the sand, and you tell me how enamored you’ve always been of me, and how you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with me,” he indulgently sighs, “I mean, it’s every guy’s dream. But nooooo, of course you’ve got no taste or sense for romance in any capac–”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, FORGET THIS,” you stand up out of your chair, fast enough to where it almost falls backwards, and you grab your purse to sling over your shoulder, “I cannot believe I actually thought this plan would ever fucking work.” You’re about to walk away from the table, because you’re realigned with the wisdom of exactly why you can’t stand this man, when his hand reaches out quickly to grasp onto your wrist, to keep you still, and you jump a little from the contact. You look down, his hand unrelenting in its grip as his knuckles flex slightly, and you’re not sure if he’s ever touched you from how foreign the sensation feels.

“Wait,” he says, and when you look at him, his eyes are a little wide like a puppy, “you’re being serious?”

You yank your wrist out of his grip, but the warmth of his touch still lingers, and you wrap your own hand around it to distract yourself from it. “Why would I just ask you to marry me out of nowhere if I wasn’t being serious?”

He gives you a look like the answer to your question is obvious. “Uh, to fuck with me?”

You’re still holding onto your wrist, protectively pressing it against your chest with your back turned away from him slightly, and you look up at the sky for a brief second. Hm, perhaps you could have brought the favor up a bit better, and you realize it might’ve sounded insane on his end, and you’re also still thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars you could save if he said yes, and so you hesitantly open your body language up to him again.

“Just sit,” he sighs.

You take a seat across from him again, hands finding the warm coffee cup in front of you and you purse your lips together before tucking your bottom lip under your front teeth. You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I…I’m being serious. I was wondering if you could marry me as a favor, and not because I think you’re some type of irresistible man candy, god, where do you get your gigantic ego from?”

“I–”

“Rhetorical question, shut it.”

He blinks at you. “What favor are you asking for that’ll be satisfied by me marrying you?”

You twiddle with your thumbs. “I want to put my mom in hospice,” you say, eyes flickering down slightly because you’re worried you’re about to tear up from the words, but when you realize you’ve got enough conviction not to, you look back up at him, and his eyes on you are a little too observant, “most of the hospices in town are further away than I’d like, and really expensive, but I heard there was a Kaiser one nearby…and that a lot of the costs are covered by insurance. So, if you married me, I could send my mom there. And also, under your insurance, the care network would be better, so I could get her a new oncologist and neurologist, and I’d know she’s being taken care of. And…” you clear your throat, “well, it’ll be a lot less expensive, so I can start to catch up on…well, whatever, you get the picture.”

His eyes narrow at you in thought, and he glances at your hands on the table that are nervously fidgeting, and then his eyes meet yours again. “I’m not sure if you can add a…spouse’s parent to a healthcare plan?”

“You can,” you say, “I already called to ask.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Gojo hums to himself, laying his palms flat on his thighs and rubbing them back and forth on the taut fabric a few times as he thinks with his gaze set off somewhere in the distance. It seems like he’s running through some algorithm of thoughts in his head, and then he slowly nods to himself when he’s made a decision.

“Sure, I’ll do it,” he says.

“Y-You will?” you ask him. You’re uneasy at how easy it was to convince.

“Yeah. I like your mom. She’s a sweet lady, and I want to see her get better.”

His words touch you. And not from the distance of a ten foot pole like you’d usually allow, but more intimate somehow. And you get the feeling you should thank him, but you’re still pissed off from when he almost ran you over on your own driveway earlier this week. 

“Really?” you make sure, almost like you’re hoping he’ll change his mind because now you’re suspicious as to why he agreed so quickly. And you realize he’s already making you paranoid.

“Yeah. I’m saying yes to your proposal, y/n,” he says, “I mean, a marriage is just a legal agreement. Not a big deal. I’d want a prenup though, for obvious reasons. In case you’re a gold digger.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re too cheap to even pitch in for a fucking fence. You think I’d believe you’ve got any gold to dig?”

He sighs. “I said in case.”

“Well, anyways, we can work out logistics and paperwork or whatever later,” you say, and you extend your hand out for him to shake it.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Um. You’re going to make me shake your hand over this?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

“Yes,” he says, “for a diplomatic agreement.”

“Precisely,” you say. “That’s exactly what this is.”

He hesitantly brings his hand up to shake yours, but you quickly withdraw yours at the last second. “Nevermind. I don’t want to touch you.”

“Okay,” he easily accepts, “not how I expected to celebrate getting engaged, but whatever. By the way, when’s the wedding? Are we doing, like, a shotgun destination type vibe? Or something a bit more grand?”

“Just be at the courthouse at noon on Sunday.”

“What?! This weekend? That’s too soon,” he panics, “I need time to pick out a dress, and I need to figure out who my bridesmaids are going to be, and–”

“Satoru. Seriously. Just–...just shut the fuck up. Before the headache that you’ve already given me gets worse.”

You two sit in silence for a moment, him just mindlessly staring at a butterfly that landed on the plant at the center of the table, and you just stare off into the void past him while contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made. But that’s how it always was between you two. As much as you hated to admit it, you were jealous of him in a lot of ways. In every way that you were fucked up, he was nonchalant without a care in the world. You wish you knew what that sort of peace felt like, and you wondered if he could show you. Maybe someday when he doesn’t piss you off.

“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, “are you gonna take my last name?”

“Fuck no, I’d rather die.”

“Alright, jeez, I was just asking.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 1]

a/n. yayy!!! he said yes!! omg congrats on ur engagement!! haha this was a lot of fun to writeee :'') i've got sm fun ideas for this fic. yea this chap was supposed to be longer lol there's still some groundwork to lay w the side quests, but will def cover more of that in the next chapter!!! tysm to everyone that wanted to be on taglist omg i hope that you enjoyed <33 love uuu guysss smmmm also my bad if some stuff doesnt make sense i'm tryna be less perfectionist when i'm editing so that i don't go insane 😍

➸ take me to chapter two!

taglist: @tremendousbouquetflower @cowgirlcujoh @joemama-2 @shinypearlywhites @sykosugu @lovebittenbyevans @luqueam @bloopsstuff @horisdope @alwaysfreakingout @crammingqueen @rideofthevalkyriess @lavender-hvze @gojocock @ceni707 @jxvajxy @catobsessedlady @madaqueue @bbyxxm @gojostit @nixie-19 @cheezitcracker @polarbvnny @cactisjuice @sleepyyammy @lysaray @k4tsukiis @kortanasworld @megumisthirdog @slut-4-gojo @drakenswifeyy @njoxuzi @elernity @jujutsubaby @secretmoneybearvoid @bunny-lily @strawberrygirl0 @httpxxg @bsdicinindirdim @v4mpieres @nanamis-baker @therealestpussyeater @air3922 @13-09-01 @marija4674 @whereflowerswenttodie @geniejunn @bakuhoethotski @ricaliscious @77uchiha77 @hellowoolf @tobaccosunbxrst @possumwho @nvrgojover @kittygrimm88 @samistars @shiin-ye @billiondollarworth @mmeerraa @fjorjestertealeaf @reinam00n @semra4 @st4ryki @new-weather47 @coltsgf @meownuuuu @strawnanamilk @lees-chaotic-brain @ironhottubstranger @spindyl @aise-30 @dunghirse @r0ckst4rjk @44ina @4y3sh4 @lindyloomoo @sweetpo1son @levisfavoriteteashop @delfiiii @fushitoru @gojosimp26 @beabadobeee @astrokenny @horisdope @muchlov3ashley @geniejunn @the-dark-creature @gojonegs @ritzes28 @mo0nforme @drownedpoetss

hope yalls fries never get soggy ever 💕

[kainissoable]

You're fucking kidding?! I thought for sure the one thing they would fix in the remasters would be the occasional areas that are pitch bloody black if you're playing with any ambient lighting. Goddamn.

Hmm in the cathedral it is so dark I actually can't see anything. I turned the brightness up on my TV. Still nothing. Granted my room is lit tf up & I have a retina disease but literally unplayable for me.

[zyafics]

DIRTY AIR | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Maybank!Female Reader

Summary — When Rafe wants you as a late-night booty call, you’re going to make him work for it. Word Count. 2.2K.

Content — 18+, smut, lots of banter, sexting, fingering, oral (female receiving), and the usual Maybank-Rafe tension. Reader is a bitch, a tease, stubborn, dominant, and uses a dab pen.

lıllılı Breathe (Rap Version) by Blu Cantrell, Sean Paul

When you exit the shower, you receive a text from Rafe.

RC: come over

It's not surprising that he's texting you at this hour. It's half past ten and Rafe is always in a horny mood. You roll your eyes as you type your reply.

You: no thanks

RC: i haven't seen u in forever

You: yeah? and how does that make you feel?

RC: don't be a bitch

You: ur the one texting me

You pause, fingers dancing over the keypad, before deciding to add: show me how much you miss me

You don't get an immediate response, but you don't care, dropping your phone onto the desk, and looking at your reflection through the vanity. The towel covers your body, your hair dripping wet from the recent wash, and your face fresh from makeup.

As you ponder on what to do next, whether you should do a new coat of black polish, your phone buzzes on the desk. Your eyes glance down at the preview, noting it's a photo from Rafe.

A dick pic.

The shot captures his cock fisted in his hand, in the darkness of his bedroom, and the fine muscles of his thighs on display. You feel a pulse of desire shoot to your core.

A text follows: better?

You bite your bottom lip, holding back a smile, and contemplate your response.

You: it isn't worse

RC: fuck off

RC: do u need a ride?

You: i don't remember saying yes

RC: are u serious

You: how do i know that wasn't already loaded on your phone?

The next photo came quickly. This time, in the same position, Rafe sends a picture with his middle finger up, signet ring glistening. You laugh.

RC: ur turn

Just before you can tease him further, another text follows: if i gotta fuck my hand tn, at least give me something to jerk off to

You can't stop the grin from rising on your lips, shaking your head, and deciding, for once—just this once—you'll be agreeable.

Dropping your towel to the floor, you stand in front of your mirror with nothing but a pair of panties loosely around your hips. You angle the camera in front of the reflection, using one arm to cover your tits. Then, you snap the photo and click send.

The response is instantaneous.

RC: take off ur arm.

You: cant, my tits are meant to be experienced live

RC: ur killing me here

You: poor boy

RC: how am i supposed to jerk off to that

You: use ur imagination

RC: i’d rather have u here

You: is that supposed to be romantic

RC: fuck romance i wanna fuck

You: keep going cameron, i’m swooning

RC: ykw, fuck it, i'm coming over

Your heart stutters and you quickly type a response: no you can't

But you don't receive a reply.

Minutes pass but the text remains unread. Half of you want to pick up the phone and call him but decided against it. It's stupid. You won't be the first to submit. He's not going to take this much energy from you. If Rafe does show up, you simply won't answer the door.

You resume your nightly routine. Changing into an old shirt and shorts, you take a final hit from your dab pen, and just as you're about to head off to bed, a knock on your door reveals JJ.

"What?" You greet your little brother, despite not seeing him the entire day. At least he's home safe.

"I just got back from the Chateau," he informs, causing your brows to pull together.

"Congrats?"

"Thanks," he leans against the wall next to your doorway, right beside your desk, "and guess who I met waiting outside our house?"

Your shoulders drop. "He isn't."

"He is," JJ declares with an obnoxious click of his tongue, shaking his head in that little brother shake of disapproval, but not having any real authority to change the circumstance. "He offered me twenty bucks to convince you to meet him."

You squint your eyes at him. "Did you take it?"

"Of course," JJ holds up the folded twenty between his fingertips and you scoff. "You're gonna meet him anyways. If the Kook's throwing away free money, might as well take it."

You shake your head at him, but truth be told, you would do the same. "You have no loyalty."

"Am I wrong?"

"Yes," you affirm stubbornly, now having another reason not to go to Rafe. "I'm not going to see him."

"That's not what he's saying."

"What? You and Rafe gossiping about me now?"

"Yeah, we're best buds now," he draws sarcastically, before pushing himself off the wall and knocking his knuckles against your desk, as if to test how solid the wood is, before pulling back. "Whatever you do, just don't fuck in the house. The walls are thin and I'd rather not hear you getting freaky."

He walks away, without closing the door, and you yell after him, "Yeah, and remember that whenever you invite Kie over!"

JJ doesn't say anything, flipping you off, but you laugh, and knowing without a doubt that your brother is carrying a similar expression. When JJ leaves, you grab your phone nearby on your nightstand. Still, no text. You wonder if Rafe truly believed JJ was going to fulfill his promise and drag you out of the house.

You decided to test it.

You: ur little plan didn't work

RC: maybe

You: my brother doesn't like u

RC: and i don't like him

You: then why are u here?

RC: thought i made that clear

You: go ask one of ur other girls

RC: nah

The chat bubble comes up before disappearing. Finally, a text comes through: none of them are u

You can't stop the swarm of butterflies from fluttering in your stomach and you hate how easily you fall for his words. Rafe's nothing but a casual fuck, which you're using a little too often, and you decide to push back.

You: i'm not coming outside

RC: maybe

You: i'm going to sleep

RC: then why are u still texting me

You lock your jaw, hating the flush rising to your cheeks from being called out. You decide not to entertain a response, dropping your phone on the nightstand, facing up, and snuggle into your blanket. You're about to close your eyes but the bedroom door remains open.

There's something aggravating about its presence that, with a huff, you throw your comforter off your body and march up to the door to slam it close, flooding the room into complete darkness. When you're about to go back to bed, the tiny space lights up from a notification on your phone.

RC: are u really going to sleep?

You: u thought i was bluffing?

RC: nah, but i just imagined it would be hard

You: why?

RC: because once u close ur eyes, all ur gonna do is picture me

You: ur so full of yourself

RC: ur telling me u won't imagining me between ur thighs rn? my fingers could be rubbing your sweet pussy and get u real nice and wet

RC: ur always so wet for me

You: shut up

RC: and when ur dripping, i finally put my fingers in. just one for now, just to tease u

RC: while i'm fingering u, ur moaning with that sweet little voice of yours, begging me to go faster

RC: i do.

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling the ember of heat spreading from your core and causing your entire body to ache. God, you need release, and you find your free hand between your legs, stroking your panty-clad pussy to find the patch drenched. You hiss from the sensitivity, just as more texts come through.

RC: and when i drop my face down to find ur clit

RC: you'll moan my name, won't you baby?

Your fingers enter your wet pussy, but the girth isn't enough, and while you're pumping yourself, it isn't the same. You're imagining him—goddamnit, you're imagining him—and how he can do it so much better.

More text pings, but your head is tipped back, trying to bring yourself to your own release with no relief. When minutes pass and nothing but an incessant throb pulses through your core, you decide enough is enough.

Throwing your covers off, you march to the front door and whip it open, finding Rafe leaning against his motorcycle, phone in hand. His eyes immediately find you and a conceited smirk rises to his lips, "changed your mind?"

"Shut up."

You grab his shirt, not bothering for small talk, and pull him into your house, threading through the narrowed space before finding your room. When the door closes, you push Rafe against it, pushing your slick-covered fingers through his mouth, forcing him to suck.

He does, and a look of surprise and lust passes through his features.

"You gonna fuck me like you promised?" You challenge in a whisper.

He pulls your fingers out, "Use me, baby. Make yourself feel good."

With that satisfaction, you're about to turn around to go to your bed, but Rafe tugs on your wrist, pulling you back. "Not so fast."

His lips slam onto yours and Rafe kisses you desperately. You taste yourself faintly on his tongue, and one of his hands cups under your chin before slipping down, pulling at the thin material of your shirt, messing with the hems of your shorts.

Rafe pulls away, teeth tugging at your bottom lip before releasing and mumbling harshly. "I need these fucking clothes off."

"You're here now," you step back just an inch, "do it yourself."

Rafe grabs the hem of your shirt and swiftly peels it off, before both hands land on either side of your waist, slowly, sultrily lowering your shorts as he sinks himself to his knees. Rafe guides you back, allowing you to meet the foot of your bed frame, and when he evicts you of your clothes completely, he pushes you onto the mattress. 

"Fuck, Maybank," Rafe groans to himself, "you're dripping."

"Like you promised, huh?"

With a smug look, his fingers brush against your aching cunt, rough fingers grazing your slit in vertical strokes. You instantly jolt into his hand, causing him to use his free hand to hold down your hips.

His dark blue eyes are trained on your pussy, and you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of need to say something. To prompt him to go faster. Rougher.

"This isn't for you," you proclaim with a low rasp, "this is for me."

"Whatever you tell yourself so I can fuck you."

A digit pumps inside you—like he said—slow and steady at first, but the girth alone causes you to clench around it. Before long, he adds another and another, curling his fingers inside of you, fingertips grazing against your sensitive walls.

Your head tips back against your sheets, breathy moans escaping you. You feel yourself building up to a white-hot pleasure, the familiar one that you've been chasing ever since his texts, but comes so easily with Rafe.

"Come on, baby," Rafe taunts, going faster. "Scream my name."

"Fuck off, Cameron," you stammer through a moan.

He chuckles to himself. "Close enough."

His face lowers to capture your clit and he sucks hard, making you see stars. Your fingers thread through his hair, pushing him closer to your cunt, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

Rafe usually loves being the dominant one, but something about you—chasing your own pleasure, using him as a mere toy for your own release—makes his inside buzz. He fucking loves it. With you and no one else.

Desperate moans cascade out of your lips, so needy, Rafe is reeling from the sound and safekeeping it into his memory. His name falls from your lips, and he channels his enthusiasm until he's knuckle-deep inside you with his mouth working over your swollen nub. 

You come hard while Rafe guides you through your orgasm, slowing down his thrusts. Once you ride it to completion, Rafe retreats his fingers and pulls you to the ledge of the mattress, forcing you back into a sitting position.

His eyes leveled with yours, your breathing is harsh while Rafe studies your features. The look on your face post-orgasm, the way your lips are parted with a fuckable pout, and the way your eyes are on him. Only him.

Slowly, you take his hand, the one slick with your arousal, and raise it to your mouth, pushing his fingers between your lips. You suck him clean, never breaking eye contact, and Rafe swears he's never seen a more erotic sight.

When he pulls his hand back, he uses it to cup the nape of your neck and pulls you into a kiss. It came as a surprise to you; the way his tongue plays with yours, tasting you, needing you. 

Then, a loud banging from one side of your wall causes you to jump back. JJ's voice follows, "Can you keep it down over there?!"

It takes a beat before you burst out laughing, Rafe following. You turn back to him, tilting your head.

"Wanna make some noise?" You ask.

He grins. "Would love to."

"Okay," you grab his shirt, exchanging position, and push him onto your mattress. Your knees on either side of his hips. "My turn."

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[nottswitch]

congrats on 1k!!

for the wheel of aesthetics can you do 5 for theo nott with either smut or fluff 💗

hi and thank you so much, love!! thanks for sending a request <3 i chose smut for this, so i hope you’ll like it. your aesthetic is…

— spacecore

(centered around astronomy, stars and planets)

» navigation ; masterlist ; theo m.list ; how to request ; 1k celebration

18+ smut

it was supposed to be just another night of suffering through an astronomy assignment with your classmate aka biggest academic rival theodore nott. how did you end up pressed against the railing of the astronomy tower with your ass up in the air, you didn’t know. you also didn’t want to know, because then you’d have to think, and thinking with theo’s tongue stuffed inside your pussy wasn’t the easiest task.

"nott, fuck-"

"shut up."

theo pulled away from your pussy just to say that and give your asscheek a smack, ringing through the whole platform at the top of the tower. you bit your bottom lip and squeezed your eyes shut when he delved back into your dripping folds, lapping up your arousal from your inner thighs in the process.

your grip on the railing tightened when his index and middle fingers slipped inside, immediately curling and pressing on that spot that made you moan faintly into the air.

"i said shut" smack. "up" another smack.

"nott, fuck you-u-u…" you trailed off into another moan when he added a third finger, stretching you out to an impossible degree and making your hand fly up to your mouth.

"good girl," theo murmured against your skin before wrapping his lips around your clit. you gasped and tried to bite down on your palm, which didn’t really work and you had to assault your bottom lip again.

theo felt his cock throb inside his pants and had to use his other hand to palm himself through the fabric. the pace of his fingers got quicker and your eyes suddenly had a mind of their own, rolling to the back of your head.

"nott, i- fuck, i’m gonna-"

"shit!"

you didn’t have time to register what had just happened because theo’s fingers reached a certain spot inside of you that made you completely crumble. panting for air, your legs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, you lazily turned your head over your shoulder, just to see a sight that made your eyebrows reach your hairline in a second.

"nott, did you just cum in your fucking pants?"

"not a word, or i swear to god-"

playlist

❥ tout l’univers by gjon’s tears

❥ the prophecy by taylor swift

❥ across the universe by the beatles

❥ i feel it coming by the weeknd

❥ all for us by labrinth & zendaya

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I wanna see what’s Ace’s family’s reaction when they found out Ace is dating reader Heheheh

I decided to have only Ace's brother present, since Mr. and Mrs. Trappola have yet to receive strong characterization.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

The Trappola brothers sat across from one another upon red velvet chairs, and you, between them. They were both intently focused on building a house of playing cards—a task that Ace had warned took “serious patience, coordination, and a gentle touch.” (You had rolled your eyes and responded, “Great. You let me know when you’ve found someone that has all that.”)

Ace carefully laid a Two of Spades down, formed a triangle with a Three of Clubs and a Four of Diamonds. His hand slowly retreated, and the triangle stayed. He expelled a sigh, directed away from the cards so as to not disturb them.

You would have clapped for him, but Ace had discouraged you before the game had even started. So instead, you tapped your index and middle fingers together. Still giving applause, but not nearly enough to rattle the house of cards.

“Your move.”

“Huh, you’ve gotten better at this,” his brother mused. He toyed with an Ace of Hearts, expertly twirling it between dexterous fingers. “Too bad. I was really looking forward to smoking you in front of your new friend.”

“In your dreams,” Ace sneered, passing you a glance. “The last thing I’d want is to look uncool in front of my partner.”

His brother drew himself up in his seat. The card in his hand, stilling. “Your partner? Since when were you two a thing?”

“Oh, you know… since a while ago,” Ace casually replied. “And honestly, I can’t really blame’m. Who wouldn’t fall for my dashing good looks and roguish charm? I’m a catch!”

His brother regarded you with an almost pitying look. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he advised.

You burst into laughter. "I think I'm good. Ace is an idiot, but he's at least my idiot."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you've got a sense of humor. You'll need that if you're going to put up with Ace all of the time. Congrats, you passed the first test."

"Whaddya mean 'put up with' me?!" Ace protested, puffing up his cheeks. A pout--adorable, you think.

"I mean it exactly how I said it. It's practically a full-time job dealing with you," his brother replied cheekily. "You gotta prepare people for it, or else they won't know what they've signed up for."

"Oh, come on! You're making me sound way worse than I actually am."

"This, coming from the guy who ghosted his ex?" He smirked, and you could see the family resemblance in it. The slight narrowing of the eyes, the way his mouth angled. "I dunno, I was half expecting you to stay single forever after that royal screw-up, lil' bro. You're lucky you found someone willing to take you~"

Pink exploded onto Ace's cheeks. "H-Hey...!" he hissed, leaning toward his brother. "Did you seriously have to bring that up?! Have a little more tact, will ya?!"

The older Trappola grinned. "Gotcha."

You realized why.

Ace's sudden movement had sent a slight breeze against the card house. It wobbled from top to bottom--then the structure collapsed in on itself, the cards all folding into one another. Within seconds, the house was a pile on the coffee table.

Ace fell to his knees with a pathetic wail, scrambling to salvage his hard work. His brother looked on, chuckling. A card, still in his hand.

"I didn't place mine yet," he declared triumphantly, "and since you made the house fall, it's technically my win!"

"Y-You sneaky...! You taunted me on purpose!!"

"Yeah, and it worked like a charm." He flicked Ace on the forehead. "You were too busy trying to flex in front of your S/O. It was easy to take advantage of that. You always were a cocky, predictable brat."

"Grrrrr..!!"

"Ace, it's fine," you soothed him, a hand on his arm. "You did your best. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"Tch, there you go being all sappy again... You're so lame sometimes," Ace grumbled--but he covered your hand with his. A small gesture, but a reassuring one.

"Hahah, look at you two lovebirds," his brother teased, wagging a finger at you. Then he reached out and roughly ruffled Ace's hair, despite his complaints and attempts to swat him away. "Happy for you though, lil' bro! You gotta tell me how this love story started--"

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

“𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞” - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚢𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝟸𝙺 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞: @kisses4angels

warnings: pet names, jealous!rafe, possessive!rafe, ownership kink, swearing, mentions of violence, public sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking.

💌 𝓐𝓼𝓴: omg bb congrats on 2k!!! i’m so so so proud of you <333 was just thinking about hockey!rafe. so what about him with ditzy!reader who was dressed in his jersey, all there to support her man when one of his teammates comes up and suddenly starts saying how it should be his number on her cheek instead of rafe, and his jersey. meanwhile rafe overhears and gets all jealous, kind of staking a claim on her in the locker room with the door wide open??

⭐lightly edited⭐

1.5K

Reader’s POV:

“You waitin’ for me, doll?” Your eyes widen on your friend’s, the two of you knowing what would surely come as you hear the big brunette shuffle out of the locker room. You feel his hand rest on your lower back as he shifts closer, looking down at you with a smile before pulling you in for a “friendly” hug. “You’re killin’ me in this jersey, sweetheart,” Bauer croons. You match his chocolatey brown irises—his lips curling into a devilish smirk.

“Hi, Bauer,” you greet him sweetly. I mean, he’s Rafe’s teammate, after all.

“Two. Huh? Got Cameron’s got you in his jersey now? Did I miss somethin’?” He asks. “You two-”

”Dating,” you hear a different voice cut him short, the one that never ceases to give you butterflies: Rafe, lifting you off your feet into a big hug. His forehead tips against yours, his freshly washed fringe pressing against you, his nose nuzzling as he smiles along your lips. “My girl. Hmm?” He mumbles loud enough for everyone around you to hear, including Bauer. Rafe’s soft lips greet yours, giving you a few pecks.

“Yours,” you whisper with a smile. “Good game, baby.”

“Thank you, princess. Stayed out of the penalty box all night. Think I'm goin’ soft.”

You chuckle and roll your eyes as you scratch your nails into his hair at the nape of his neck. “Hat-trick?”

“Mhmm…” He hums proudly. “Just showin’ off for you.”

Rafe sets you down on your feet, drawing back enough to take you in in his away jersey. His arms wrap around you; big hands falling lower than Bauer’s had sat just moments before, resting on the fullness of your ass to let the other boy take in the sight of his hands on you and his name embroidered across your shoulders. You rest your hands on his broad chest, running them down the luxe material of his gameday suit.

“You look so good-”

“You two goin’ out tonight?” Bauer cuts in, fighting for the little attention he lost.

“If we make it out,” Rafe answers fast and smug, his eyes never wavering from yours. He wets his bottom lip, looking down at your lips hungrily.

“Well, I think we’re goin’ to View House,” Bauer invites. You go to look over your shoulder, but Rafe has other plans, hooking his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze where it belongs.

“I don’t care where there goin’. Do you?” He mutters with a condescending bite, letting out a raspy chuckle on the back end that has chills running down your spine. ”I know you’re really interested in what I’m doin’, Bauer. I’ll text you boys later… Or not,” he taunts as a few of the other guys trickle out of the locker room. Rafe looks over your shoulder, watching as the locker room lights flicker off. A couple of his teammates gather around, talking to the other girlfriends and amongst themselves, making plans for the night. “Forgot some shit in there, princess,” he nods towards the closed door before giving you a wink. You bite your lip and smile, nodding in agreement, knowing Rafe well enough to know what he’s pulling you into.

The two of you walk toward the locker room, leaving the crowd behind. You look up at Rafe, watching his features harden before his head snaps back. “The fuck was that, Cooper?” Rafe asks Bauer in disbelief, your mind so muddled with Rafe that you missed what got him upset in the first place.

“Just fuckin’ with you, Rafey,” Bauer smiles as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, staring you down before lifting his gaze to Rafe. “Just said ‘she’d look good in number four,’ is all.” The burly defender pokes his tongue in cheek; a few of Rafe’s teammates watch on, just waiting to break up the inevitable.

Rafe scoffs out an annoyed laugh, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “View House. Yeah?” Your boyfriend asks, shocking the group with a question versus a brawl. “Ya’ll headin’ there now?” He asks, getting a nod ‘yes’ from a few of his teammates. “Great. That’s great. Think we got some shit we need to clear up, Coop,” Rafe drawls. Bauer shifts his stance, chest puffed as his hands work out of his pockets, crossing tightly across his broad chest, knowing that exchange would be met with fists, not words. “Got some shit I need to work out first.” Rafe grabs the locker room door, pulling it open with a smile, letting you pass through. He gives that same cheeky wink to Bauer before stepping through the threshold himself, lazily tugging at the door handle, making no attempt to shut it.

You gasp and squeal as Rafe steps forward with a purpose, taking you into his arms and backing you up against the cool metal lockers. He presses his big body into yours as you kiss, hands palming your curves, leaving you putty in his arms. “This okay, baby?” He rasps against your lips as you reach for the bottom of his crisp white button-down, tugging at it needily.

“Mhmm,” you hum, focused more on getting your hands and lips back on him.

Rafe chuckles darkly, lips dusting over the top of yours as his big, rough hands trace under his jersey, looping under the band of your leggings, toying with your lace thong. “With all these boys out there, princess?” He asks with a sleazy laugh, in love with the answer he already knows he’ll get.

“I don’t care, Rafe,” you smile as you finger his belt and buttons, splaying the zipper as you suck on his tongue. Rafe tears off his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor as his slacks do the same, gathering in a mess at his ankles.

Rafe pulls your leggings and panties off your body between messy kisses. You whimper as his fingers press against your aching pearl, your pussy ridiculously wet already. You wrap your hand around his long, thick cock, stroking him a few times, rubbing your thumb across his head, smudging his sticky precum across his swollen tip, making him groan.

"Fuck, Rafe," you whine as he stuffs himself deep, pressing you against the wall to give you every inch of him. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, manicured nails clawing into his broad shoulders and dress shirt as he fucks you into the locker, hardware rattling with each rough thrust. Rafe pants and smiles as your head falls back, resting on the locker, hand clasped over your lips as you muffle moan after moan with the palm of your hand as he starts to pound into you.

Rafe tucks his head in the crook of your neck—his warm breath fanning across your soft skin as he grunts with each push of his dick. “Feels so good, baby,” you mewl as his fat cock hits your sweet spot with precision, his tight body griding perfectly against your clit. ”M’gonna cum.”

”Fuckin’ do it, pretty. Come for your boy. Huh?” He mumbles as his lips find yours again. Your body comes undone in his strong arms, pussy creaming all over his thick length as your praise echoes through the empty locker room. “Atta baby… Fuck. That’s my girl,” he praises. “Bend over for me.” Rafe sets you down and turns you around quick, gathering his jersey around your hips as you press your hands against the wall, arching your back. “Mpfhh—Just like that,” he groans. You look over your shoulder, watching Rafe lick his lips, looking at your glossy cunt, his number and name printed on your back, fueling his possessiveness even further. Rafe thrusts himself into you, toned hips snapping against your plush ass.

"Shit, Rafe," you cry in pleasure as he starts to stroke again, his hands drifting under the jersey, pushing your bra up to take two fistfuls of tits. You match his thrusts, throwing your ass back into him.

"Ugh, y/n. Keep doing that... Just like that, baby.”

"M’close," you whine as you move your hand down to your clit, fingers spiraling as Rafe fucks into you from the back.

"Mmm... Me too, baby,” he huffs. You gasp as his hand wraps around your neck, pulling you back to his chest, his large bicep squeezing around your throat as he thrusts mercilessly into your fluttering cunt. “Cum for me, princess. Let all these boys know who owns this sweet pussy. Say my fuckin’ name, baby.”

“Rafe,” you cry as you cum just like he asked, pulsing around him as his cock throbs inside you, filling you with his cum. Rafe breathes unevenly with you, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

His arm loosens around your neck slightly as the other works lower, landing on your clit, running lazy circles as your body trembles for him. “Think he knows now, princess?” He asks smugly. “Let him try that shit again. I’ll make sure he understands you’re mine.”

tags (tag list is on my pinned post. If your name is crossed out your tag isn’t working 💕): @loserboysandlithium @rafesthroatbaby @kisses4angels @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl

[jupiterpilgrim]

SEX CAGE - A Certain Kind of Freedom

Kwon Eunbi x male reader

word count: 14K

part 1

Eunbi and Somi are lounging on the couch, comfortably wrapped in the delicious art of gossip — the kind of conversation that could fuel hours of free entertainment, without the need for Netflix or Wi-Fi. Eunbi grabs another cookie, chewing slowly as Somi talks with the passion of someone who just watched the latest episode of a dramatic reality show.

"You heard the latest about Mina, right?" Somi starts, her voice full of that conspiratorial tone only someone who truly revels in other people's misfortunes can master.

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, with the moderate interest of someone who knows this is going to be good. "Oh, Mina, the embodiment of perfection... at least according to herself."

Somi nearly chokes with laughter. "Yes! And can you believe her boyfriend dumped her to date her younger sister?!" She drops the news as if she’s revealing the biggest scandal of the week, which, for their circle, might just be.

Eunbi stifles a laugh, which turns into a rather sadistic smile. "Of course, because obviously the only way to escape that arrogance was... to dive headfirst into an even bigger mess. Congrats to him for making the dumbest choice available."

Somi slaps Eunbi’s arm, laughing. "The worst part is, apparently the sister thought it was cute that he tattooed her name on his arm. Cheap tattoo, mind you. And, of course, she fell for him right then and there. Because nothing says 'I love you' like a bad tattoo."

Eunbi grimaces, shaking her head. "A name tattoo is like signing a contract with disaster. But hey, everyone does what they can with the little brain they have, right?"

They burst into laughter again, the kind of shared humor only longtime friends can appreciate — especially when they’re mocking someone they never really liked. The sound echoes through the apartment, and for a moment, it’s almost like they’re back in the days when their biggest worry was deciding which nail polish to wear that week.

Somi finally catches her breath and looks at Eunbi with a softer expression. “But seriously... you’re glowing, you know? You’ve got such amazing energy! Way different from the last time we talked, when you were, like, at rock bottom with the whole unemployment thing.”

Eunbi feels her stomach churn slightly. Ah, rock bottom. What dark times those were (three months ago). Until she turned things around, of course, but by means Somi can’t — and shouldn’t — know about. Eunbi plays with her hair, as if she can brush away the discomfort with the gesture. “Ah, you know... things have gotten better. Lucky for me, my roommate is super smart.”

Somi narrows her eyes, curious. “Smart how? Did he help you get a new job or something?”

Eunbi tries not to sweat. She can’t exactly admit that her current 'job' involves cameras, masks, and an eager audience hungry for more content. So, the lie flows, smooth as oil. “Oh, you know, he’s into all that nerdy stuff. Investments, bitcoins, NFTs... those complicated things only weirdos understand. He’s been covering the bills for now.”

Somi looks at Eunbi, genuinely impressed. “Wow, you really lucked out! A rich nerdy roommate. Sounds like one of those cliché romances.”

Eunbi lets out a nervous smile. “Yeah, it was a good roll of the dice.” Before Somi can start connecting dots or asking more complicated questions, Eunbi quickly decides to steer the conversation in a different direction. “But enough about that. Now that I have more time, I’m thinking of going back to the gym. What do you think about us going together? Like, a triumphant return to the fitness life.”

Somi almost spills her tea in excitement. “You? The gym? I’m shocked!! But seriously, that’s awesome! What gave you the sudden motivation?”

Eunbi smiles, satisfied to have shifted the topic to safer ground. “Oh, you know... health, staying in shape, that kind of thing. And now that I’ve got more free time, I’ve got no excuses, right?”

Of course, the real reason for the new gym routine was less noble and more... vain. Keeping that ‘porn goddess body’ requires work, after all. The cameras don’t lie, but they definitely have their preferences. And Eunbi was determined to live up to those expectations — hers, the fans’, and anyone else willing to pay to watch.

Somi gets excited about the idea, clapping her hands animatedly. “I LOVE this! Finally, a gym buddy! We can even take those post-workout selfies, you know? Like, ‘no pain, no gain.’ It’s going to be great!”

Eunbi laughs, already picturing herself doing squats while Somi films her for Instagram. “It’ll be fun. My goal will be to get abs like yours.”

The conversation flows smoothly, with occasional laughs and sharp gossip, until the apartment door opens and you walk in, as usual, a bit clumsy, unaware that you’re interrupting the gathering. Somi turns her head to look at you, surprised but with her usual friendly, easy smile.

“Hey! Long time no see!” She gets up to greet you while you try to force a tired smile and give her a quick hug. Not that you don’t like Somi; she’s great, really, but she always brings this certain energy that leaves you feeling slightly... drained. The kind of person who could empty the battery of an entire room just by showing up.

“How’s it going?” you ask, trying to be polite as you prepare to escape to your room.

Somi responds with the same enthusiasm as always. “Everything’s great! And you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Ah, I’m good too. Make yourselves at home, don’t mind me, I’m just heading to my cave,” you say, and with that, you finally make your way to your room.

Barely closing the door, Somi, who never misses an opportunity, turns to Eunbi with a curious gleam in her eye.

“So, has he been bringing a lot of girls around here?”

Eunbi lets out a theatrical sigh, as if the question were more ridiculous than it actually was. “Thank God, no. He’s always been pretty chill, actually. More of a stay-at-home, play-video-games type than the ‘hook up with everyone’ kind.”

Somi crosses her arms, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Really? That’s funny. He’s cute. And I always thought cute guys were taken. What a waste.”

Eunbi tries to keep her composure, but something about Somi finding you cute bothers her. Not that she’s jealous. Obviously not! But hearing Somi compliment you... well, let’s just say it’s irritating. “Yeah, he’s cute. But anyway, back to the topic... the gym, right? I think I’ll start tomorrow.”

“Great! The gym I go to is amazing, you’ll love it.”

Eunbi smiles, satisfied with the sudden shift in conversation, and decides to change the course even further.

"By the way, I’ve always wanted to ask you something, Somi... have you ever been with a girl?"

Somi almost breaks the cookie she was about to eat. She blinks, processing the question. “Uh... like, kissed?”

Eunbi shrugs. “Kissed, hooked up, anything. Has it ever happened?”

Somi, still a bit taken aback, furrows her brow. “Ah, kissing, sure. Everyone’s kissed a friend after a few drinks, right? It’s like a friendship ritual.”

Eunbi lets out a little laugh. “So, just a kiss then? Nothing more?”

Now, Somi’s completely intrigued. She places her teacup carefully on the coffee table, as if she’s about to disarm a bomb. “Well... I’ve never slept with a girl, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Eunbi continues to probe. “And... would you try it?”

She pauses, looking at Eunbi more intently now, as if trying to catch the hidden subtext in the question. Then, connecting some dots, maybe a bit hastily, she smiles slightly. “Wait... are you suggesting that—”

But before Somi can finish her sentence, Eunbi waves her hand, as if shooing away a bunch of unwanted thoughts. “No, no! Nothing like that. I’m not suggesting anything. I was just curious.”

Somi laughs, but there’s a faint thread of tension in the air now, something light, something that wasn’t there before. “Oh, okay. Because, you know, I wouldn’t judge if you were thinking about it. I mean, you’re gorgeous, I’m gorgeous... It wouldn’t exactly be a tragedy.”

Eunbi gives a short, controlled laugh, like someone who needs to keep the train on the tracks. “I know, but that’s not it. I was just asking.”

Somi relaxes, but the mischievous look doesn’t fade. “Ah, got it. Just checking if the hot friend’s into girl-on-girl stuff. Sure, makes sense. Now tell me, what about you? Ever been with a girl?”

“Well... like you, I’ve kissed some friends a few times, you know, those party moments when everyone’s drunk and hyped. But I never... went beyond that, you know?”

Somi puts on a fake dramatic act, clutching her chest like she's deeply offended. "What? You've kissed other friends but never me? And here I thought our friendship was special!"

Eunbi, with the calm of someone who always has an answer ready, shrugs. "Well, we could change that right now, if you want."

Somi raises an eyebrow, surprised, but a smile begins to form on her lips. "Are you serious?"

Eunbi simply nods. "Why not? Friends do these things, right?"

If this were a book, this would be the moment when the reader holds their breath, eagerly anticipating what's next.

Then, without much fuss, Somi gives a mischievous smile, and they both lean forward until their lips touch in a quick, simple kiss. No drama, no complications. Just a brief moment, but with an underlying tension neither of them will admit to.

When they pull away, Eunbi smiles like she just checked off something from her to-do list.

"There. Now you're part of the exclusive group of friends I've kissed."

Somi laughs, raising her cup of tea. "Wow, what an honor. Let's toast to that."

Eunbi raises hers too, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "To open friendships."

They clink their cups, the sound echoing through the room, and the atmosphere relaxes again, as if nothing unusual just happened.

—

[12:03 AM]

Yujin: Heyyyy Rubydden! 🖤✨ Saw your sextape, girl, you SLAYED! Congrats!

[12:07 AM]

Rubydden: Omg, thanksss! I was so nervous, you have no idea 😳

[12:08 AM]

Yujin: Nervous? Pff, no way. You looked super natural. You’ve got that je ne sais quoi. Like... I dunno, a mix of dominatrix and Instagram fairy, you know?

[12:09 AM]

Rubydden: 😂😂 What a description! Now I gotta add that to my bio. But seriously, I loved what you do too. I watched some of your vids and I was like... wow ❤️🔥

[12:11 AM]

Yujin: Some? Haha, liar, bet you binged them all 😏

[12:15 AM]

Rubydden: Well... maybe five or six 😅

---

[10:35 AM]

Yujin: Look, I'm gonna be blunt... I got off to your titjob. That was AVN Awards level 🥵💦

[10:36 AM]

Rubydden: 😳 Omg! Wasn’t expecting that. Now I’m blushing

[10:37 AM]

Yujin: You're a goddess, Rubydden. That close-up on your boobs... girl, perfection!!

[10:38 AM]

Rubydden: Haha, I thought the same about you when I saw that video of you making yourself squirt... hard to forget

[10:39 AM]

Yujin: Haha perfect! But seriously, that titjob you did... I had to grab a vibrator because it was sooo hot 🔥

[10:40 AM]

Rubydden: OMG, really?! I'm feeling flattered now 🙈

[10:41 AM]

Yujin: Of course!! I’m not gonna lie, you and your guy have crazy chemistry. Ever tried a threesome?

[10:42 AM]

Rubydden: Never tried, actually. But I've always been curious... 🤔 Why, got something in mind?

[10:44 AM]

Yujin: Girl, if you haven't tried it, you're missing out, seriously. I've done it a few times and, for real, it’s amazing. Now, imagine this: me, you, and your guy in a video. It'd break the internet!!

[10:46 AM]

Rubydden: Wow... That definitely sounds like something to think about. I guess I'd have to talk to him first, right?

[10:47 AM]

Yujin: For sure, for sure! But think about it seriously, okay? We could make something super sensual, something that would drive the audience wild. Plus, it’d be a lot of fun 😉

[10:49 AM]

Rubydden: Haha, gosh, I'm nervous just thinking about it. But I won’t lie... the idea is tempting

[10:50 AM]

Yujin: Trust me, girl. It’s gonna be an experience you won’t forget. And, obviously, who could forget you after that?

—

You’re sitting in Eunbi’s room, her laptop open on the desk in front of you, your eyes skimming over the messages again and again. That dialogue on the screen doesn’t just surprise you, it throws you into a world you didn’t even know existed a few months ago.

Yujin?

Collab?

A threesome?

Eunbi, standing beside you, looks at you like she’s already made up her mind. To her, this is just another chance to go viral again. "So?" she says, tapping your shoulder lightly, a carefree smile on her face. "What do you think?"

You swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat. "I... I don’t know what to say."

She frowns a little, but still in a playful way, like she’s hearing someone complain about being hot in the summer. "Oh, you never know what to say. Relax. It’s not that complicated." And then, with a twinkle in her eye: "Yujin's hot, right? And she's got millions of followers. If we do this, it’s gonna be huge. Like, huge."

"It’s not that," you mumble, trying to form something coherent, but all logic seems to slip away from you like sand through your fingers. "I mean, it’s just... all of this... it’s so new."

She lets out a soft laugh, like she was expecting exactly that. "Of course it’s new. I still remember us sitting on the couch freaking out, thinking we’d get evicted from our apartment. Everything’s happening so fast, but look where we are now!" She picks up her phone, scrolling through Yujin’s photo gallery, clearly much more comfortable with the idea than you are.

"But I don’t even... know if I want to do this," you admit, trying to understand why your voice sounds so small in this conversation when you should be shouting HEY, I LOVE YOU, CAN WE TALK ABOUT US?!

"It’s okay to not want to... right now," she replies, still half-distracted as she shows you another picture of Yujin, this one even more provocative. "But seriously, look at this. Us and her? It’s gonna break the internet. And you’d be the luckiest guy in the world." She says it like she’s pitching the latest smartphone, full of perks and no downsides.

"I’m not sure ‘lucky’ is the word I’d use," you laugh awkwardly. How do you explain that, in your head, luck would be getting to take her out to dinner, with no cameras or masks in the way?

She frowns, clearly not understanding why you’re not jumping at the idea. "Okay, then what’s the problem?"

Inside, the knot of emotions keeps growing. You’re still trying to process the fact that you’re falling for your best friend. The girl you’ve always shared everything with, who stood by your side through the tough early days of adulthood. You two share something special... but she doesn’t seem to see it the same way. She’s caught up in the work, the followers, the rising fame.

And you?

You’re caught up in the feeling of falling in love with someone who might only see you as a tool for her career.

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and all you can manage is a frustrated sigh.

"I’ll... think about it, okay?"

She gives you a quick hug, like you’ve just agreed to go to her Barbie-themed party. "Relax, it’s gonna be amazing, you’ll see. We’re doing so well! Maybe, when things calm down, we can even take a trip, just the two of us. What do you think?"

You allow yourself a small smile.

A trip, just the two of you?

That sounds almost... romantic.

"Yeah... that sounds nice."

"Yes! I was thinking maybe the Swiss Alps, how about that? Us in a cozy little cabin, snow falling outside, a fireplace burning... perfect, right?" She looks at you, her eyes shining with the idea. For a brief moment, you imagine the two of you together, far away from everything, just enjoying each other’s company. Damn, that would be perfect.

But, of course, Eunbi continues: "And we could shoot a video there! Imagine, us having sex in front of the fireplace, with the snow falling outside... it’d go viral."

You roll your eyes and take a deep breath. Of course.

Because in the end, that’s what it all boils down to. The romance fades faster than your desire to keep this conversation going.

—

You're lying on the couch, engrossed in your book, when you hear the apartment door open. Eunbi had gone out to pick up a package, and you were already used to her dramatic entrances. But the excitement with which she bursts through the door this time makes you suspicious of what on earth is in that box. It could contain anything from a toaster to a new vibrator powerful enough to emit sound waves detectable by a hydrophone at the bottom of the ocean.

“So, what’d you get this time?” you ask without looking up from your book.

“Oh, you'll find out soon enough,” she replies in a voice full of secrets.

You raise an eyebrow but go back to your book. “Right. Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t explode.”

She disappears into the bedroom, and for a second, everything returns to normal. You almost convince yourself it’s nothing to worry about… until hours later, when another door opens again, this time with the subtlety of a hurricane. And who enters the room is… well, Eunbi, but a version of her that looks like she just walked out of a weird fanfic written by someone with way too much time on their hands.

She’s wearing a schoolgirl skirt that honestly makes you question the sanity of fashion designers and a baby tee she probably last wore many years ago.

You look at her, half incredulous, half amused, and can’t help but laugh. “Okay, what the hell is that?”

Eunbi spins around like a runway model, making the skirt dangerously twirl. “My new costume! For the next video, obviously.”

You tilt your head, a bit cynical. “What video?”

“I mean, our video,” she corrects. “We’re gonna do a roleplay. I’m the younger sister, and you’re the older brother.”

What?

You frown.

“Wait, what?”

But she moves closer, sitting beside you, her hand strategically landing on your thigh. And it’s that kind of hand slide that makes your neurons scream to ignore it, but of course, your body had already betrayed you the second she walked into the room in that… outfit. Now you start to understand that the mysterious box might have had something to do with this transformation.

“I’m going to be your stepsister,” she begins, while her fingers trace slow circles on your leg, “and our parents aren’t home... and I want to show you something. Something I just discovered, you know, like… sex.”

“Oh, sure. Sex,” you say, as if it’s the most revolutionary concept you’ve ever heard. “Because that’s what every little sister does, right?”

She either ignores the sarcasm or just doesn’t care. “Exactly! Oh, and of course, it won't be anything too scripted, we'll just feel the vibe and improvise. It’s going to be our best video yet. It’ll have that… forbidden touch, you know?”

You lean back on the bed, trying to figure out a way out of this. “So… like… can I finish my book first?”

Her eyes gleam with pure determination as she leans in closer, her hand now dangerously high on your thigh. “You can finish later. This will be quick.”

You had spent the last few days deciding that, no, this was too much, that you weren’t going to have sex with Eunbi just to create content anymore. Boundaries, you told yourself. Self-respect. You were more than that, right? You were going to set limits, be firm...

But now, with her hand so close to something that does not respect any rational decision, those words start to feel distant.

Then she delivers the final blow, the argument that should be illegal in any discussion. “And, look, it’ll be my first anal. You’ll get to fuck my ass. And, to make it better, I’ll let you come inside.”

Your synapses short-circuit. All those mature reflections about feelings and dignity… vanish. The decision you had sworn to keep firm just... dies. Just like that.

Her hand is already on your cock, and of course, it’s already rock-hard. Not that you have much of a choice at this point. Your body had already made the decision for you.

“It’ll be fun,” she says with a slight tease, her fingers now playing with your erection. “And I promise I’ll make you feel... very good.”

You try, by some miracle, to keep your composure. “Okay, but... shouldn’t we have, like, talked about this first?”

She looks at you with an expression that clearly says: Are we really having this conversation right now? “The only thing we need to talk about is how much you want to fuck my ass.”

You let out a sigh—whether of surrender, desire, or just because you’re an idiot, you’re not sure.

But deep down, you knew you were defeated the moment she walked into the room wearing that damned skirt.

Of all the absurd decisions you’ve made, this is probably the most obvious one. With your mind utterly overwhelmed by a mix of desire and confusion, you heard yourself saying yes before you had time to process anything more rational—like, for instance, no.

Eunbi smiles as if she's about to invite you to play house, but a version that would never be allowed on any playground. She bounces off the mattress, as if the thrill of seeing you sink into this pit of poor decisions is a small personal victory, and rushes to the bedroom. You hear the sound of boxes being rummaged through. She comes back with a mask and the camera. Your camera, which, let’s be honest, she practically stole from you a long time ago.

"Here," she says, handing you the equipment with a sparkle in her eyes. "Now I’m going to redo the entrance," she continues, already in full actress mode, putting the mask on, "but this time, you’re going to be my older brother, and I’ll be your... well, you already know."

You sigh, half-amused, half-resigned, but lie down on the bed as instructed, slightly frustrated to give up something important to do... this—and yes, you did consider finishing that book important—but, if we're being honest, resisting Eunbi was like trying to hold water in your hands.

You turn on the TV, something generic is on, maybe a show about giant cakes, which, of course, doesn’t match what’s about to happen. You press the record button on the camera.

And this is how it begins:

The bedroom door opens, and there she is, the personification of every possible cliché of fantasies that shouldn’t exist. A schoolgirl skirt that’s way too short, a baby tee that only someone with questionable taste would consider appropriate for anyone past puberty, and a walk that was almost a caricature. But the strangest thing was how much she had changed. It wasn’t just the outfit. It was everything: the posture, the gestures, even the expression on her face. When she approaches and says, “Hey, big brother,” the voice is so sweet it’s almost sickening.

Pure poisoned sugar.

You glance at her as she sits at the edge of the bed, the camera strategically positioned to film from the neck down, focusing on that damned tight baby tee that accentuates her breasts. “Hey,” you reply, casually.

“Parents are gone,” she announces, sitting beside you on the bed. You mutter something vague in response, more focused on surviving the scene than keeping up the act.

“Remember what dad said before he left?” she asks, with that voice that sounds like it’s meant to sell children’s toys or, in this case, sell the idea of something entirely different.

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure, take care of the house. And you.”

She smiles. But it’s not an innocent smile.

No, definitely not.

"Exactly. And I was thinking… shouldn’t you, like, take care of me now?"

“Hmm, take care of you... how?”

She smiles again, and the insinuation in her voice is so heavy it could sink a ship. "I discovered something. Something people do to feel good. And I think we should try it."

You try to fake indifference, which, of course, doesn’t help at all. "Oh yeah? What’s that?"

She leans in a little more, almost whispering. "The man puts the, um, what’s it called? Penis! That’s it! The man puts the penis into... the vagina... I think that’s it. He puts the penis in the woman’s vagina. That makes them feel good." She pauses, watching your reaction. “I want to try that with you.”

You almost choke on your own saliva.

"What? Who told you that?"

She shrugs, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. "Saw it on the internet."

Ah, of course. The internet. The vast well of wisdom and depravity.

Before you could come up with a reasonable excuse to cut this strange performance—something like ‘I can’t do this, sorry’ or ‘please, I just want to finish my book’—her hand was already on your cock. And, to be fair, that’s exactly what your brain didn’t need at that moment.

“Hey, what are you doing now?” you ask, more because you felt you should say something than because you really wanted an answer.

“Let me see your dick, brother,” she said, as if asking to see the TV remote. “Please, please, please!”

"I can't show you that," you retorted, in vain.

She frowned, but in a mischievous way. “I’ll show you what’s under my panties if you show me your dick.”

And, of course, her next move was to part her leg and lift her skirt, revealing the most enticing panties anyone could imagine—pink, with little animal prints, the full provocation package.

Your self-control—or what was left of it—flew out the window. She kept pressing on your dick over your pants, and finally, you gave in. "Alright, alright."

“Yaaay!!”

Eunbi took on the role with an almost disturbing enthusiasm. When you finally gave in and let her pull down your pants, her eyes lit up with exaggerated curiosity, as if she was dealing with something mysterious, incomprehensible, and worthy of scientific study. She looked at your cock like it was a particularly intriguing puzzle—one to be solved not with logic, but with her hands.

"Wow..." she murmured, her words filled with rehearsed admiration. Her fingertips brushed against the warm skin, exploring as if it was the first time she had ever touched a cock. She giggled and, with a touch that was almost innocent (if it weren’t so provocative), started handling it like she was investigating the workings of a new toy.

“It’s... so big!” The words came out with an overly exaggerated tone of surprise.

You tried to maintain some semblance of indifference, but it was like trying to keep a dam intact in the middle of a hurricane. "Careful there," you said, your voice already tense, feeling every light touch as if your cock was now in the hands of an inexperienced mechanic unsure of how to proceed.

She used both hands, holding it with a curiosity that seemed clumsy but intentionally sensual. “Why is it like this? Like, hard... but the skin’s soft at the same time?” The question was so simple, almost comical in its innocence, that you couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh.

“That’s how it works,” you muttered, the effort to keep your head in the game becoming harder as her hands slid more confidently. She squeezed a little more, testing different ways to hold it, as if searching for the perfect grip, her short nails brushing the sensitive skin in a way that made you squirm.

“And these balls down here?” She looked at them with genuine curiosity, playing with your balls, her gaze still so inquisitive that it almost made you laugh again. “What are they for? Do they get hard too?”

“No...” you took a deep breath, trying to explain without completely losing your composure. “I mean, they can get a little hard when they’re full... They’re… sensitive , just... don’t mess with them too much.”

She laughed, clearly amused by the reaction she was provoking. Her touch grew bolder as she became more familiar with what she was doing, running her hands along the entire length, holding your balls with a mix of care and silly curiosity, like she was weighing something valuable. “Oh, so the balls are sensitive...” she teased, laughing mischievously. "I’ll be careful."

She wasn’t, of course. Her touch, though clumsy for the character, was becoming more precise, more intentional. She knew exactly what she was doing, even if the role demanded a forced innocence.

"Can I... try something?" she asked, lying under your legs, her face so close to your dick that you could feel her warm breath on the tip.

"Try what?"

It was an unnecessary question because the answer was already written between the two of you in bold letters. She knew. You knew. Everyone—including the audience watching this later—knew.

“Can I... lick it?” she asked with the same sweetness as someone asking to taste a piece of candy. She tilted her head, her eyes big and bright behind the mask, and without waiting for an answer, lowered her head and gave a timid lick, almost as if she was testing the taste.

You took a deep breath, your muscles tensing involuntarily. "Go ahead..."

She started licking with small, experimental touches, giggling with each new move as if she was genuinely enjoying herself. "It tastes kind of... salty," she commented, like she was talking about a new gourmet ice cream. She laughed again, licking once more, this time with more intention, running her tongue from the base to the tip with an almost disturbing concentration. "Is that good for you?"

"Fuck yes," you responded, trying to control the moan already escaping your throat.

“Then I’ll keep going...” she murmured, smiling satisfied with herself, like a good sister just wanting to make her older brother feel good.

Her movements were a strange, seductive mix of rehearsed hesitation and almost genuine curiosity. The tip of her tongue traced small lines along your skin, up and down, almost like she was discovering a new flavor. She giggled between licks, which for some reason only made the situation hotter. With each touch, the heat in your body intensified.

“You really like this, huh?” she asked with a feigned innocence that you knew was part of the act, but it didn’t make the situation any less provocative. The way she spoke, as if asking an everyday question, contrasted deliciously with the explicit nature of what she was doing.

You let out a low moan, struggling to maintain some control over the situation. “It’s... incredible,” you replied, your voice already shaky.

She paused for a moment, her eyes shining with interest, as if analyzing the situation from a new angle. “So... if this makes you feel so good, what’s the best part?” The question came with that unsettling curiosity of wanting to learn more, wanting to be better at making her brother happy.

You try to stay focused, fighting the urge to just drop the camera and use both hands to make her gag on your dick. But no, she wanted it to be a game, she wanted it slow—you both had roles to play. "The tip," you said, vaguely pointing to the most sensitive part of your dick. “The tip is... where you should focus more.”

Eunbi raised an eyebrow, amusement clear on her face. "The tip?" She looked at your dick with the same exaggerated fascination, her lips moving slowly as she considered the new challenge. "Okay, big brother... If that’s what will make you feel better."

She leaned her head closer, her gaze fixed on the tip of your dick, like she was about to solve a Rubik’s cube. And then, with calculated slowness, she wrapped her lips around the head, giving a light suck, as if tasting something for the first time.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The touch of her soft lips, combined with the light pressure of the suction, was simply electrifying. And she seemed to love the reaction she provoked, laughing softly as she continued, her movements increasing in intensity.

“Like this, is it good?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled, as she kept the tip of your dick in her mouth. With each word, the vibration made you lose more and more control.

"Keep going... just like that... it's really good," you managed to say, the words escaping with difficulty. She gave a low, satisfied laugh before going back to what she was doing, now using her tongue to explore the tip with even more curiosity. She swirls her tongue in slow, teasing circles, gently increasing the pressure before relaxing, repeating the motion as if she's experiencing something new each time.

"It's kind of weird," she says suddenly, pulling her mouth away for a second to catch her breath but keeping her hand firmly around your cock, playing with the base like it's something she just learned to use. "But in a good way, you know? Like... kind of funny."

"There's nothing funny about this," you say, almost laughing but trying to keep your composure. "Just... keep doing what you were doing."

She smiles, that mischievous smile that shows she knows exactly what she's doing. "Okay, okay... I'll be a good sister, I promise." And with that, she puts the tip of your cock back in her mouth, now with more determination, sucking with a steady rhythm that makes your whole body react.

You and the camera watch everything, your mind torn between the rising lust and the surrealness of the situation. The way she slips into the role, playing with the idea of being a little sister "discovering" something so dangerous and exciting, only heightens the effect. She sucks the tip with absurd concentration, as if each movement were a new step in a forbidden game.

She pulls the cock out of her mouth again, her hands still busy, and looks at you, eyes gleaming with excitement that comes more from the game than the act itself. "Do you want me to keep going like this? Or should I do something else? I... I can learn quickly, you know."

"So, remember the balls? You can suck them too. I’ll like that a lot."

"You said they’re sensitive, right?" Her voice has that exaggerated tone of curiosity, like she's playing a little sister who wants to learn everything, absolutely everything. "What do I do with these... little balls?"

You, already sunk into the role she’s forcing on you, struggle to keep your voice steady. "Yeah... yes. They’re... sensitive. You can... suck them too. But, carefully."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Suck? Like I did with your cock?"

You nod, the words almost slipping. "Yes. But... slower, okay?"

"Mmm, got it!" she murmurs in a devilishly sweet voice. "I'll take care of you, just like you take care of me."

She lowers her head further, moving slowly down to your balls, as if she’s deliberating her next move. She gives them another lick, experimental and almost casual, like she’s licking a popsicle in front of the TV on a Saturday afternoon, and not your body.

"Like this?" Her voice is loaded with fake innocence, but the mischievous smile on her lips leaves no doubt that Eunbi knows exactly what she’s doing. "Or should I be a bit... more careful?"

You swallow hard. "That’s it, just… a little slower..."

She giggles again, that light laugh that makes it seem like you’re really playing make-believe. But, obviously, what she’s doing is far from that. She tilts her head more and begins licking your balls slowly, this time without hesitation, but still with that touch of exaggerated curiosity.

"It's funny," she comments between licks. "I didn’t know they could get harder." With each word, she lets her tongue glide smoothly over the sensitive skin, teasing in a way that makes everything feel like one big game.

You can barely think of a coherent response. "Yeah... the more you play with the balls, the 'harder' they get," is all you can say, trying to maintain some control while her head moves between the base of your cock and your balls, like she’s deciding which part she likes best.

Then she looks up again, as if a brilliant idea just struck her. "What if I suck it all at once? Do you think I can fit it all in my mouth?"

"Yes... go ahead, try..."

And she does, enveloping your balls with her mouth slowly and carefully, almost with that rehearsed sweetness, like an obedient little sister.

"Am I doing well?" she asks in that sweet little voice, her words muffled as she continues playing with your balls, moving her head side to side, as if she’s, once again, testing the limits of what she can do.

You almost laugh, but it’s a forced laugh, the kind you make when you’ve been taken to a place where reason was lost long ago. "You’re such a good girl!"

She smiles, satisfied. "I want to be the best little sister in the world!"

"Okay, if you really want to be the best little sister in the world, then do as you promised and show me what’s under your panties, alright?" you ask, knowing it’s best to stop for now, or the video will end in just a blowjob.

She obediently stands up, unbuttoning her skirt with deliberate slowness, almost ceremoniously. You get rid of your pants and boxers for good and sit on the edge of the bed. She lets the fabric slide down her thighs to the floor, revealing pink panties. It doesn’t help that she seems genuinely excited about it, like she’s playing with something her parents didn’t allow.

"Do you like it?" she asks, turning slightly to show off the pink panties decorated with little animals and bows on the sides.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your composure, which is a colossal challenge considering the scene. "It’s... yeah, it’s nice."

"Nice?" She pretends to be offended, crossing her arms over her chest. "These panties are cute. I chose them especially for my brother." She emphasizes the ‘brother’ with a tone that should be sweet but only manages to sound dangerously suggestive.

"Sure, sure," you reply, looking away for a second, as if that would help you escape the trap. "Cute."

With an even wider smile, she slowly lowers her panties, revealing her already wet pussy. The ‘little stepsister’ looks at you with a rehearsed expression of pure innocence. "Huh? Why... is it so wet?"

You take a deep breath, knowing that any answer to that question will only dig you deeper. But like any protagonist in a story who’s clearly made the worst decision, you answer: "It’s because... you like me. Your body reacts like that when you... really like someone."

She ponders for a second, as if she’s considering this revelation for the first time. "Ah... that makes sense. I do really like you, you know?"

"Yeah... I like you a lot too," you murmur, as if that would help keep things within some kind of boundary.

"So," she continues, her eyes fixed on yours, "what do we do now, brother? How are you going to take care of me?"

You try to keep your voice calm, even though you know it’s quickly becoming impossible. "Why don’t you start... touching your pussy? Slowly. Just to see how it feels."

She seems surprised, but excited by the suggestion. Slowly, her fingers begin to descend, gliding over her soft skin until they reach her wet pussy. And the moans start, first light, then becoming continuous, accompanied by a smile that drives you crazy.

"Like this?" she asks, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Yes, exactly like that," you reply, your voice a little rougher than you’d like, slowly stroking your cock while you film and watch the scene.

She continues, her fingers still timid, almost hesitant, like she’s discovering a new toy and doesn’t know exactly how to use it. She bites her lower lip, clearly enjoying her own curiosity, but you notice that something... is missing.

"No, no... this way it won’t be as good," you say, trying to sound instructional, which is a colossal challenge given the situation. "Let me show you a better way."

She stops, her eyes blinking at you with a mix of surprise and excitement. "Show me? Like... you’re going to teach me, big brother?" She smiles like she’s learning to do homework, except the ‘lesson’ at hand is far from academic.

"Yes... that’s it, I’ll show you. Trust me. Lie down on my bed and open your legs."

You stand up as she does what you asked, her legs slowly spreading to give you full access. With a sigh, you slide your hand between her thighs, your fingers lightly brushing her warm, damp pussy.

She trembles slightly at the touch, letting out a soft moan. "What are you going to do...?"

"Just relax, okay? You'll feel much more pleasure that way," you respond, still in 'older brother instructing' mode, because somehow that twisted logic makes sense right now.

Your fingers find her clit, and you start making slow circles, pressing just the right way—the way you know will make her writhe with pleasure. And, as expected, her moans intensify, her hips moving involuntarily against your hand.

"Ah... this is... so much better," she whispers, her eyes half-closed, her voice now more drawn out, almost surprised at the intensity of what she's feeling. "This feels so good, you're making me feel so good!" She arches her back, getting more lost in the touch, her hands squeezing her breasts, still covered by the baby tee, her moans echoing through the room. "This... this is incredible," she breathes between sighs. "Do it again, brother. Do it like that."

You comply, your fingers now firmer, exploring the small spasms of her body, each touch precise to make her feel more, to make her moan louder. Her breathing becomes ragged, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, and for a moment, the absurd theatrics of the situation disappear, replaced by a raw, physical connection.

"You like that, don’t you?" you ask, knowing the answer is obvious.

"I love it... Mmm, I didn't know I could feel this way." she replies, her voice broken. "You're... you're the best brother I could ever have."

Your fingers move faster now, firm and precise, playing her body like an instrument, each stroke making her tremble. She's gasping, eyes closed, writhing beneath you, her hips rising and falling against your hand. It's a hypnotic sight—almost like watching a chaotic dance, where her body is the instrument, and you, the conductor.

"Ah... brother, I... I’m feeling something strange..." she murmurs, her voice hoarse, almost trembling.

You smile, keeping your tone calm, as if you've been through this before. "It's normal... just relax and let it happen. It'll feel good, trust me."

She lets out a long, nearly broken moan as her body begins to lose control, her muscles contracting involuntarily around your hand. The camera is focused on her movements, capturing every contortion, every muffled moan, as if it were the final piece of a banned masterpiece in several countries.

"Ah, ah... I can't... Oooh..." She begins to beg, her words dissolving into pure sound, as your fingers continue, relentless, pressing and circling, giving no reprieve.

"That's it, let it out... it'll feel good, just let it all out." You encourage her, your voice soft, almost paternal, a sharp irony considering the context.

And then, it happens. She arches sharply, her body trembling violently, and you feel her wet heat spill over your hand. She comes with a scream that echoes through the room, her moans transforming into a primal sound, pure instinct and release. You keep playing her, extending the moment until the last spasm fades.

The camera captures everything—the unbridled pleasure, the ecstasy etched into every curve of her body. Every tremor and sigh are recorded.

When she finally collapses on the bed, exhausted, her breathing uneven, you gently pull your fingers away, bringing your soaked hand up to the camera lens for a close-up.

"Good job, little sister," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice. She just giggles, exhausted but satisfied, her body still trembling with the last traces of pleasure.

"I knew I could trust you," she murmurs, eyes closed, a satisfied smile on her lips.

"But we're not done yet," you say. "I want you to get on all fours for me, I'll show you something.”

Eunbi eagerly complies, lying face down with that almost naive obedience, arching her back with the precision of someone who's done this before. And you, in the role of the responsible older brother, observe and film.

"Now open that ass," you say, giving her a light slap that makes her skin ripple, and without question, she pulls her small hands to spread her cheeks, revealing her tight little asshole and wet pussy, everything perfectly exposed.

You run your fingers over her pussy, wetting them carefully, like you're preparing for a sacred ritual. Then you slide the wet finger down to her tight little asshole. She shifts a bit but stays in position, letting out a low moan as you finally push the finger inside.

"This little ass is precious, you know?" you say, almost in a teacherly tone as your finger slowly explores. "No one else can play with it but me. Just me."

She moans again, a sound mixed with pleasure and a promise about to be made. "I know, brother. It’s yours... only yours."

Her voice sounds sweet, almost begging for more, and you increase the pressure with your finger, pushing a little deeper, testing how far you can go. She arches her back even more, as if trying to make your job easier, offering her body.

"Good to know you understand," you tease, and she murmurs something in agreement. "Because if anyone else tries, there’s going to be a problem, understood?"

She bites her lip, her fingers still holding her cheeks apart. "I promise, brother... it’s only yours."

You smile, satisfied with her promise. "That’s how I like it."

Eunbi remains there, face down, obedient, her hands gripping her cheeks firmly, opening herself to you as if this were the natural purpose of her existence. Her breathing is heavy but eager as your fingers explore, playing with the tight little asshole still learning what it means to belong to someone. You feel the heat of her skin, and the way she trembles with each of your movements makes it clear that despite everything, she's enjoying it.

"Good girl," you say in a tone of approval that sounds almost paternal, moving your finger with more determination now, circling slowly before pressing in again. She lets out a shaky sigh, biting her lip and closing her eyes as if trying to focus on anything other than the pleasurable discomfort you're causing.

"It... it hurts," she admits in a trembling voice, as if revealing a secret, but then immediately moans again, that strange mix of pain and desire. "But it feels good..." She arches her back a little more, as if to encourage you, even as her body struggles to adjust to the new sensation.

You chuckle, pleased with her progress. Then you wet your fingers more in her pussy.

"It’s going to hurt a bit at first," you admit, moving the wet finger more slowly now, just to test her limits. "But don’t worry. Soon enough your little ass will get used to it." The promise is made in a reassuring tone.

Eunbi lets out a louder moan as you penetrate a little deeper, her fingers gripping her cheeks tighter as if trying to steady herself. She moves, arching her back into an even more inviting angle, legs slightly apart. "You... you think?" Her voice is a mix of insecurity and excitement, almost as if she's asking for more.

"I know," you respond, soaking in the confidence of the role, moving your finger with more rhythm, teasing her. "You're a good girl, and good girls always learn fast."

She moans again, her face buried in the mattress, but her arched back continues offering everything you've asked for and more. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna be a good girl for you, brother. I promise..."

You pause for a moment, your fingers still wet from the recent exploration. Eunbi—or, for the purposes of this performance, your ‘stepsister’—breathes deeply, still arched, her body tense with anticipation. The atmosphere is thick, and for a brief second, you just stand there, silently absorbing every almost imperceptible tremor running down her spine. The camera, your silent partner, focuses on every nuance of her expression, every shiver.

“It’s time for you to find out what you’ve been wanting, princess,” you say.

“Please… put your cock in me.”

"Say please," you respond, your voice low, so heavy with desire you barely recognize it. "Be a good girl and ask politely."

Eunbi, ever the meticulous actress, turns her face toward you, her wide eyes behind the mask with an innocence that only exists in fiction—those big eyes, the kind that say ‘I’m pure, I swear,’ even when nothing happening in the room suggests anything remotely innocent. Her breathing is fast, like a theater student at the peak of their dramatic performance.

"Please..." Her voice is a fragile whisper, but sweet, carefully rehearsed to sound vulnerable. "Please, brother... I want you to put your thick cock inside my tight little pussy."

Ah, there it is. The final barrier collapsed with the weight of a house of cards pushed by a breeze. You can’t help but smile—not that the camera can catch it—as you adjust your position with the precision of a watchmaker fine-tuning a delicate gear. The heat emanating from her body is magical, and when you finally penetrate her, slowly, each inch is consumed by her pussy, which wraps around you with a softness that defies reality.

She lets out a moan—the kind of sound that floats between pleasure and surprise, as if she’s being taken into unknown territory while, at the same time, exactly where she wanted to be. "Like that... like that... please," she moans, her voice strained, fingers gripping the sheets as if she’s on the brink of an existential revelation and only the sheets can keep her from being pulled into the abyss.

You start to move, oscillating between slow and deliberate, savoring the moment like you’re tasting the finest wine in the world, while she whispers sweet words between moans.

“Yeah, good girl!” you say softly.

The pace increases, the sound of bodies colliding echoes through the room, and as Eunbi arches her back, moaning for more with an almost religious fervor, you feel like you’re in control of not just her, but the entire scene.

You begin to pick up the pace, your movements gaining a life of their own. Beneath you, Eunbi is moaning non-stop, each sound a bit louder, a bit more desperate. Then, with the precision of a medieval archer hitting the bullseye, your hand comes down fast and firm on her ass.

The slap echoes through the room like an unexpected sound. The impact is immediate: her skin turns a reddish hue, the contrast clear and satisfying against her pale skin. Eunbi lets out a moan that’s half pain, half pleasure—the kind of sound that makes you want to repeat the action just to hear it again.

"More," she moans, her eyes half-closed, her voice muffled by the sheets, as if talking to herself but at the same time asking directly for you. "Please, spank me more, brother!!”

Ah, how could you resist such a polite request? Your hand comes down again, harder this time, leaving another red mark, and her body writhes in pleasure. You begin to alternate between thrusts and slaps, creating a symphony of pleasure and impact that seems to defy the basic rules of decency.

"You like that, don't you?" you say, your voice thick with provocation, as your hand meets her ass again and again, each slap resonating like a gong in a distant temple—or, in this case, the perfect sound of approval for what you two are doing.

"Yes!" she moans, the words coming out in broken breaths, "please... don’t stop!" She raises her hips higher, almost begging for more, and you, always generous, don’t disappoint.

Another slap. Harder. Her body reacts instantly, and the moans turn into something almost primal, as if she’s surrendering completely to the sensation.

"You’re a good girl, baby," you say. "But good girls need to be reminded who’s in control."

She only moans in response, her breathing ragged, her body completely given over to the moment. And, of course, you're more than willing to keep claiming territory, with each slap and thrust taking both of you closer to an inevitable climax.

You stop for a moment, feeling the sweat drip down your forehead, looking at Eunbi and the red marks you left on her buttocks.

“Now, be a good girl and ride me,” you say. “You’re going to like this position, I promise.”

You pause the recording.

Eunbi, obedient and eager as always, pulls away from you, giving you room to lie down on the bed. And then, with a grace that would make any mythological goddess jealous, she positions herself over you. For a brief second, your eyes meet hers, and there’s that exchange of complicity. That look that says: ‘Yes, we know exactly what we’re doing.’

You resume recording.

She lowers herself onto your cock, with a slowness that’s almost torturous, but at the same time, delicious. With every inch she takes in, you feel her warmth enveloping you, the tightness that almost defies logic. She moans softly, adjusting her body, and starts to move. Slow at first, learning the right rhythm.

But, of course, that doesn’t last long.

Soon, she’s riding with more intensity, picking up the pace. Her breasts bounce under the tight baby tee, and then, with a swift movement, she pulls the fabric up, revealing her large breasts that now move freely to the rhythm of her ride.

You can’t resist – who could? – and zoom in on her breasts. Her moans, the bouncing breasts, the hips moving up and down with precision. The camera can barely keep up, but you’re not exactly thinking about perfect angles right now.

This is living art, and you’re documenting every second as best you can.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” you say, half to her, half to the video. “Keep going, my good girl.”

Eunbi bites her lip, increasing the pace even more, and the room is filled with sounds – the bed creaking, her moans getting louder, the slap of bodies meeting. Your fingers grip her waist, helping to guide her, but the truth is, she’s in control for now.

And honestly, you’re not complaining.

She tilts her head back, eyes closed, her whole body focused on the frenzied movement. “Do you like watching me like this?” she asks between moans, with that completely calculated innocence, knowing exactly the effect her words have.

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice hoarse, as you keep filming, knowing this recording will be something people will want to watch – many times.

The way she moves, even as her body consumes you inch by inch, is a balance between the innocent and the forbidden, as if she’s trying to convince you that she really is a good girl, only with a very, very fertile imagination.

“Please, brother...” she murmurs, almost in a whisper, leaning forward. The words come out in a sweet tone, with a hint of hesitation, as if testing the limits of roleplay with each syllable. “Do you think I’m being a good girl... for you?”

You smile, unable to hold back the sadistic pleasure that surfaces with the question. Your hand moves up her thigh, squeezing firmly. “You’re doing very well, little sister,” you reply. “But good girls can do better. Come on, show me how much you want to be the best.”

She bites her lip, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and nervousness – part of the act, of course, but brilliantly performed. “I... I can do better,” she says, trying her best to sound shy, as if begging for your approval. “I promise I can be the best little sister for you. Just... let me show you.”

And then, she lifts herself again and starts moving with more intensity, speeding up as her hands rest on your abs for balance. Her moans grow louder, almost stuttered, but she keeps the sweetness in her voice. “This feels so good... do you like seeing me like this, brother?” She asks, as if genuinely concerned about your verdict.

You don’t answer immediately, just watching her with that calculated expression. “You haven’t convinced me yet,” you finally say, your words sharp. “Good girls need to try harder. If you want to be my favorite, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Her eyes widen in mock concern, her breathing coming in heavier pants as her effort increases. She leans forward, her hair falling around her face as she continues to ride you, her movements becoming more intense, and the steady pace she maintains pushes you over the edge. “Brother... I’m trying,” she says between moans, her voice tinged with a mixture of effort and supposed innocence, as if the simple act of continuing is proof of her dedication. “Are you... are you enjoying it? Am I being a good girl right now?”

Your smile widens, seeing how far she’s willing to go to keep the fantasy alive. “You’re almost there, baby,” you reply with a superior tone, enjoying the power of the moment. “But good girls don’t just try. They give it their all. Show me how much you want this.”

She lets out a small moan, her eyes filled with an intensity that seemed to be growing with each movement. “I… I can do more,” she murmurs, picking up speed, her thighs now pressed against your body, rising and falling at an almost frantic pace. Her breasts bounce with the force of her ride, and her lips tremble with the effort, but she keeps going, determined.

“That’s it,” you murmur, your eyes locked on hers as you watch the hypnotic sway of her exposed breasts. “Good girl. Keep it up. Do it right!"

She bites her lip hard, clearly struggling to please you, her hands gripping your shoulders tightly as she picks up the pace even more. “I… I’m doing this for you, brother,” she moans, her voice sweet and broken, feigning complete devotion. “I want you to love me. I want to be your favorite girl. Please… love me…”

You grip her waist, helping to guide her movements. Her body moves down harder, with more determination. “If you keep it up, I might just love you,” you tease, tightening your grip. “But only if you really try. Go on, faster. Show me how much you want to be my good girl.”

She obeys, her moans louder now, mixed with panting breaths. “I’ll be… I promise,” she barely manages to say between her rapid movements. “I’ll be your good girl. The best one ever. I swear!”

“Then make me cum,” you say, your voice low and controlled, but full of expectation. “Only good girls know how to do this. Will you make it, little sister? Will you show me that you deserve it?”

She responds with only a strangled moan: “I- I w-will!”

“Then turn over,” you demand, your voice low but full of command. She stops riding you slowly, a smile on her lips, as if she’s been waiting for this order all along. She carefully turns her body, now facing away from you, her ass sticking up in a way that leaves her completely exposed. “Now you’re going to let me play with your asshole.”

"Brother... you're going to take care of me, right? Mommy and daddy said you needed to take care of me."

"Of course I'll take care of you. But now you're going to let me play with your asshole." You take your cock in one hand, holding it tight like a guide. "Come on."

She hesitates for a second, biting her lip with a hint of insecurity—not of the Eunbi you know, but of the character she's playing. "B-But... what are you going to do there, brother? You shouldn't..."

"Trust me," you murmur, almost out of patience now. "You're going to like it, it's going to make you feel really, really good."

She lets out a small moan, leaning forward, and you start to press in slowly. Entry is difficult—the pink ring of muscle resists at first, tight and almost impenetrable, as if her body is trying to say no while her mind and desire say otherwise.

"It's too tight..." she murmurs, her voice full of feigned nervousness, part of the act. But at the same time, there's something real in that sound, the little tremor in her voice as she tries to adjust herself... It's Eunbi's first anal too, not just the character's. "Do you think it'll really fit, brother?"

"It will fit," you say, your voice low, controlled, with a promise of pleasure behind it. "Just relax. You trust your brother, don't you?"

She nods, inch by inch, you feel her body giving in. The initial resistance gives way to a delicious pressure when it finally goes in. She lets out a loud moan, surprised.

“Mmm, brother… this… this is so different.” Her voice sounds vulnerable, almost shy, as she begins to move slightly, trying to get used to the intrusion.

“You’re being a good girl,” you reply, controlling the pace, thrusting in and out slowly. “You’ll like it more as you keep going.” And with each movement, each slow thrust, she begins to loosen up, her moans getting louder, her body adjusting to the pleasure.

“Come on, brother… take care of me,” she whispers.

“You’re making me so proud, baby. Your ass is perfect.”

“Ooohh, brother…” She lets out a long sigh, trying to adjust, moving her hips slightly, exploring the new sensation. “Why does this… feel so wrong, yet so good?” Her voice is of calculated innocence that drives you wilder with each passing moment.

“It’s because… sometimes, the best things are the ones we shouldn’t do,” you reply, controlling your tone to keep your character, even though the pleasure is almost knocking you over. You push deeper, feeling her insane grip. “And you’ve always been a curious girl, right? Wanting to try everything…”

She lets out a little laugh, although the tension is still there, hidden beneath the surface. “I am curious, yes, brother… I want to learn everything from you.” Then, she starts moving again, slowly at first, moving up and down hesitantly. “Do you think… I’m a good girl for wanting this?”

You can’t keep calm any longer. Her words, that sweet tone mixed with boldness, are destroying you inside. “You’re the best girl, the hottest, the most obedient,” you reply, your voice husky with desire as you hold her hips tightly to help her keep the rhythm.

“So, I’m going to make my big brother happy,” she murmurs, and with that, she starts riding you harder, her movements more confident now, her hesitation disappearing with each passing second. Each time she goes down, you feel the crushing pressure and heat, a tightness that makes you see stars. Eunbi’s moans are getting louder and louder, and beyond the character, you know how much she’s enjoying this.

“That’s it, like that,” you encourage, your hands now squeezing her ass. “Keep going, baby… show your brother how much you want to make him happy.”

Eunbi arches her back, throwing her hips back with more desire, the sound of their skin slapping against each other echoing through the room. “I’m going to… I’m going to take care of you,” she moans, between giggles, clearly enjoying the role. “But you have to take care of me too, okay? Because I’m just your little stepsister… I can’t do everything on my own…”

Her answer is almost fatal to your sanity. You pull her hips harder, helping her to go all the way down, feeling the overwhelming pleasure consume you. “I’ll take care of you,” you promise, without even thinking about the words. “I’ll teach you everything.”

She speeds up her movements, and now the room is filled with the sounds of her body against yours, her moans getting louder, more desperate. “Brother…” she begins, her voice filled with a mix of pleasure and excitement, “I think... I think I’m really enjoying this. You like being in my tight ass, don’t you?”

You almost laugh at her brazenness, but the pleasure is too much. “I love it,” you reply, feeling the urgency take over. “You’re being so good to me. Now, let me fill you with pleasure... until you can’t take it anymore.”

Eunbi continues riding, her movements now more desperate, her face clearly torn between keeping character and giving herself completely to the pleasure. “Aaaah, brother… You'll fill my ass with your cum, right? Because... you promised to take care of me.”

Her head tilts back a little, a mischievous smile lighting up her face, but her moans cut off any possible response. You’re close, so close that words no longer make sense, but the roleplay is still in the air, and you know Eunbi is going to push all the way in.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna make you cum so much, big brother. Because you’re the best brother in the world,” she moans, grinding harder, and you feel like you won’t last much longer.

“You’re going to make your brother so happy… now, get on all fours because your brother is close… I’m gonna fuck your ass until I cum.”

Eunbi lets out a short laugh, her breathing still ragged from the effort and pleasure. She slides out of you slowly, almost provocatively, and you can see how much her asshole has already opened up with your cock. When she finally stands up, she throws that playful look over her shoulder, biting her lip as if she knows exactly what she's doing.

“On all fours?” She asks, with false innocence, as she positions herself on the bed. “Do you want your sister to be like this, brother? Do you want to fill my tight asshole with your milk?”

The answer doesn't need to be verbalized — your body already speaks for you. She leans on the bed, sticking her ass up, her back arched perfectly, offering everything provocatively. The ridiculously short baby tee remains raised, her heavy breasts hanging from her body.

“You know how to obey, don't you? Good girl…”

Without further hesitation, you stand behind her, your hand running down her body, exploring the perfect curve of her hips and the pulsing heat of her skin. The camera is well positioned, capturing every angle of the final moment. Her pussy is wet, swollen with excitement, but it’s her asshole that you want now, and she knows it. Your firm hand positions itself on her ass cheeks, slowly spreading her, revealing the tight little hole that barely hides how much she enjoyed every second of it.

“Are you ready, little sister? Because now I’m going to put everything in you… and I won’t stop until I cum deep inside your ass.”

She looks back, smiling. “I trust you, brother. Do whatever you want with me.”

With that, you line up your hard cock against her narrow entrance and begin to thrust. It’s still tight, incredibly tight, and the initial resistance only makes the pleasure more intense. Eunbi lets out a muffled moan as the head of your cock finally enters, her body adjusting to the size with a mix of discomfort and pleasure.

“Ah... like that,” she moans. “My asshole is burning so much... but it’s so good.”

You push deeper, inch by inch, until you’re completely inside. The pressure is unbearable, the heat and firmness of Eunbi’s asshole squeezing you in an overwhelming way. With your hand firmly placed on her hip, you begin to push slowly, feeling her tight asshole slowly give way.

The camera focuses on this movement, of course, because, after all, the show is for the audience.

Eunbi lets out a moan, something between surprise and pleasure. “Mmm, you are so big, brother,” she murmurs, her voice cracking with the effort of keeping the role.

You go deeper, the camera recording every movement, every inch. “It's because good girls deserve big cocks,” you tease, thrusting harder now, each thrust eliciting a louder moan from her.

“I am,” she replies between gasps. “A good girl... just for you.”

The moans grow louder as you pick up the pace, fucking her ass with increasing force. The camera shakes a little in your hand, but it’s capturing everything, every detail of Eunbi’s masked expression as she grips the sheets, her fingers digging into the fabric.

As the pace intensifies, the tension in the room builds to a breaking point, and you feel the inevitable wave of pleasure about to spill over. Eunbi is panting, her moans turning into excited whispers. Your free hand grips her ass cheek tightly, keeping her open, and her tight asshole wraps around your cock like a hot trap. You know you’re close to the end, and the thought of it only increases the urgency.

"You... are going to take it all, aren't you?" The question comes out almost like a command, her voice hoarse with pleasure. The camera, forgotten for a second, shakes slightly in her hand, but it's still capturing everything.

"Yes, yes!!" she gasps, her eyes rolling back in their sockets, something the camera unfortunately doesn't capture. "I'm going to take it all! I want... I want you to fill my ass, please! ‘Cause I'm your good girl... your favorite stepsister."

Every word, spoken in that sweet, lustful voice, only makes you harder, closer to climax. You grip her hips and thrust hard, each thrust sinking deeper, every inch of your cock being devoured by that unbearable tightness.

"You like your brother's cock, don't you?" Her voice is deep now, full of the energy of someone who knows she's in control. "Tell me. Tell me what you want!"

“I... I love it!!,” she moans, her voice cracking with pleasure, as if she were about to come undone right there. “I want you to cum inside... please, make me yours, for real... Cum inside your sister!”

And that’s what pushes you over the edge.

With one last thrust, you sink your cock all the way in, feeling her body tremble with the impact. The heat begins to spread inside her, the cum spurting with an almost unbearable intensity, filling the tight little asshole of the “little stepsister” who is moaning in pleasure beneath you.

“Mmm... Fuck! Do you feel it, baby?” you tease, thrusting hard as the last hot spurt of cum floods her. “This is what you wanted, right? To be a good girl for your brother.”

She lets out a long moan, her shoulders shaking, her legs weak with pleasure. “Yes, baby… Mmm, I'm feeling all your cum deep inside me!”

You stay inside her for a few more seconds, feeling the heat of her body and the involuntary squeeze of her ass around your cock. Eunbi takes a deep breath, her moans now fading, but the satisfied smile still on her face.

"You made me feel so special," she murmurs, still in the role. "Now I'm your favorite little girl, right? Because I'm the only one who gets your cum."

You pant, lost in pleasure, your eyes closed as you answer: "It's always been you, baby... always you."

You're still breathing heavily, like you just ran a marathon, but your mind has already switched into content production mode — the ship had already sunk, so might as well make this worth something.

With the camera still in hand, you lean in for a better shot.

“Alright, show me the result,” you say bluntly, pointing the camera at the target.

Eunbi moves slowly, resting her elbows on the mattress, her legs still trembling a bit, and with a satisfied smile on her face, she spreads her cheeks with her hands, fully opening the angle for the lens.

“Is this good?” she asks with that fake sweetness you now recognize as part of the performance, but it still works anyway.

“Perfect,” you reply, adjusting the focus, the lens capturing every detail. She spreads her ass slightly, and the cum inside slowly drips out, a bright white line lazily descending, as if it knows it's the star of the show.

“Now look at the camera, baby,” you ask, while she turns her head back, her masked eyes meeting the lens with that look of pure satisfaction. “Tell them what just happened.”

Eunbi, without hesitation, slips into the sweet and innocent tone of her role, “Look what he did to me... filled my little ass with cum.” She giggles, and it's genuine, mixed with that post-climax thrill. “I guess you really like me, huh, bro?”

“Of course I do,” you say, more as part of the act than anything else.

But deep down, there’s something there that isn’t just performance.

“Now rub it a little,” you ask. Eunbi giggles, and you help her, pulling one of her cheeks while she starts rubbing a finger around the entrance, mixing your semen with her juice.

“See that, bro?” she asks with an adorable giggle, “Now I’m all dirty because of you!”

The camera focuses on the scene as you let out a tired but satisfied moan. “I can see that, princess. You got really messy.”

She keeps playing with her fingers, spreading the remnants of your load provocatively, knowing exactly how to play to the lens. “And now, what are you gonna do to me? You left my little ass all wrecked, it’s burning a lot…”

You pretend to think, but the answer is obvious. “Well, I guess now I need to take care of you, don’t I?”

“With love?” she asks, voice full of tenderness.

“With a lot of love,” you reply.

The camera finally shuts off with that classic final beep, like it’s exhausted too. You let out a sigh, while Eunbi, still catching her breath, stands up and removes the mask.

"Yeah, game over," you say, placing the camera on the desk. The vibe shifts instantly. The heavy air from the scene disappears, and the apartment feels normal again, like it had been put in studio mode for a brief moment.

Eunbi stretches her arms like she’s just woken up from a nap, then extends a hand toward you. You high-five, like two classmates finishing a school project instead of… well, what you just did.

“We did good,” she says with a tired but satisfied smile. “Teamwork was solid.”

“Yeah, it was,” you respond, still trying to process it all. “You okay? I mean... because of, you know...”

She laughs, shaking her head. “The anal? Oh, I should have used the fucking lube. But I’m fine. It stings a little, but it'll pass," she explains, as if she’s talking about a mild sunburn.

You’re not sure if you should feel relieved or admire how casually she handles it. Before you can overthink it, Eunbi suddenly turns and hugs you. The warmth of her body against yours is almost comforting, even with sweat still drying on your skin. “Seriously, thanks for doing this with me,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost vulnerable.

You stand there, a bit awkward, but aware that this moment matters. “It was kinda… weird, right?”

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, chuckling lightly. “Weird? Of course it was weird. But, like, in a funny way. It was a little bizarre at first, but then it was just… getting into character. In the end, we just… made it work.” She shrugs, and the gesture is so typical of her—practical, lighthearted, never taking things too seriously.

“Next time,” she says, pulling off her tight baby tee, “I’ll pick something less... out of the comfort zone.”

She laughs and casually grabs her panties and skirt from the floor.

You watch as she straightens up and walks toward the bedroom door, already slipping back into her natural self, as if the scene had just been a quick detour from routine.

“Wanna shower with me?” she asks, with no malice, just a simple invitation after a particularly exhausting marathon.

You hesitate, a second that feels like forever. The temptation to give in once more is strong. It’d be so easy to say 'yes,' to go with the flow. But you shake your head, declining. "I'll go later... I need to make the bed."

She raises an eyebrow, surprised by the refusal, but doesn’t push. “Alright,” she says with an easy smile, already heading for the shower. But before she crosses the door, she turns, like she’s about to say something important. You even brace yourself, expecting some post-scene revelation, some deep reflection.

“Feel like pizza tonight?” she asks, with not a trace of tension or seriousness.

“Yeah… I guess,” you reply vaguely, still trying to keep up with how quickly she shifts gears.

And then it’s just you and the messy bed. The camera’s still there, the sheets that need fixing, but what really needs fixing is your head. You wish you hadn’t agreed to film. Hadn’t let her hands on your skin convince you again. But how do you resist Eunbi when, with that smile and a promise, she makes everything seem like one big fun game, a fantasy that’s too easy to fall into?

Except while she can turn off the character with a snap and get back to her practical life, you’re stuck. Because it’s not the role that’s messing with your head, it’s what’s behind it. It’s what you feel for her, something you know shouldn’t exist and that Eunbi clearly doesn’t share. To her, it’s work, pleasure, about views and clicks. And sure, who would turn down being the lucky partner in a porn video with Eunbi?

But at the end of the day, is that all you are? You sigh, trying to focus on fixing the bed, while inside, the knot tightens.

—

It’s a cloudy morning, with that fine misty rain that barely gets you wet but can soak you through if you stand still for two minutes. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, tying the laces on your running shoes. Running is something you used to do every day, a habit you let go of for some reason that now escapes you. But today is different. You’ve decided to start running again because, as always, it helps organize the mental chaos that has become your life lately.

As you pass through the hallway, Eunbi’s bedroom door is half-open. You think about closing it to keep the warmth in, but a glow from inside stops you. It’s the light from her laptop. You hesitate, but of course, your curiosity wins. You peek in as casually as possible, and there she is: Eunbi, sleeping in a way that’s both adorable and awkward, with the laptop still on beside her, like it fell asleep with her, exhausted from hours of work. Or from whatever she spent the night editing.

You can’t help it. In fact, it’s impossible to resist. Seeing her sleep so peacefully stirs something in you, only making the mess in your head worse. Why does she have to be so… Eunbi? You walk over, switch off the laptop that’s still open on the OnlyFans homepage, with the notification icon showing +99 interactions. You close the lid carefully and place it on the desk. Then, you adjust the blankets that are haphazardly draped over her.

She stirs a bit but doesn’t wake up.

—

You start running in the park, with that light rain and cold wind cutting across your face—the kind of weather the meteorologists would call 'uncomfortable,' but you would call 'perfect for clearing your head.' Each step on the wet pavement echoes in your ears. With every breath, your chest tightens, not just from the cold, but because the only thing more intense than the physical effort is the whirlwind of thoughts now screaming in your mind.

Eunbi. Always her. Like a beautiful shadow you can’t shake. The images from last night, the mask, the dirty talk, the way she always seems to know exactly how to melt any resistance you try to build up. You almost laugh, bitterly, realizing just how pathetic it is to be stuck in this cycle.

Fuck, the truth is you’ve been hopelessly in love with her for a while now. Of course, you have, but the problem isn’t knowing it—it’s figuring out what to do about it. You’re running, trying to escape the reality that no matter how much you love Eunbi, she seems to be in a completely different universe. A universe where she can suggest absurd things, like some ridiculous roleplay or a threesome, while you, the idiot, are more worried about the color of the blanket you adjusted for her earlier.

Sweat drips down your forehead, mixing with the rain. You pick up the pace, trying to turn this confusion into clarity. You can’t keep living on this emotional rollercoaster. Every time she involves you, you convince yourself it’s just your body being used as a tool, just another role to play to help her grow in this obscure niche.

But with every touch, every smile, your mind whispers: What if it’s not?

What if, somehow, she’s just as lost in this as you are?

Maybe if you finally tell her how you feel, the pieces will fall into place. She could leave this life of videos, masks, and scripts behind. It would be a release for both of you. And then, you could have something normal. A real relationship. One that doesn’t involve cameras and personas. The idea starts to take shape, becoming clearer with every mile you run. You love Eunbi. Simple. And you need to tell her. Simple as that.

Well, in theory.

The park is empty, except for a few brave souls who also thought running in the cold was a fantastic idea. You run one more lap, your body asking for rest, but your mind now buzzing with purpose. When you get back to the apartment, you’ll tell her. Direct and honest.

Then your phone vibrates. You slow down, your shoes hitting the wet ground more softly as you pull out your phone. A message. It’s from your friend. I think it worked, he writes. Your heart races in a different way this time. HR liked her profile. I think they’re gonna make an offer, man. Stay tuned. You almost slip on the path, coming to a sudden stop.

What worked? Oh, right. The plan.

The plan you secretly put together.

The job opening at the company where your friend works, in the marketing department.

The one where you secretly submitted Eunbi’s LinkedIn profile, trying to give her a chance to get out of this crazy content creator life.

Looks like the damn universe is finally working in your favor.

You find yourself smiling like an idiot.

‘It worked.’

She could have a normal life, away from the cameras, and you could start fresh together.

You barely even feel the fatigue anymore.

Now there’s only one thing left: the conversation with Eunbi.

Because, of course, confessing your feelings to a woman you see every day, who sleeps in the room next to yours, with whom you’ve been through situations that would challenge any definition of ‘strange,’ should be easy, right?

You take a deep breath.

No, it won’t be easy.

But it’ll be worth it.

—

Eunbi is in the kitchen, still looking half-asleep as she holds a cup of coffee. The dim light from the cloudy morning mixes with the cold glow of her phone screen, which she scrolls through lazily with her thumb. The coffee—a blend of ‘I need to wake up’ and’ 'I’m not sure this will help’—warms her hands, but her mind is far from awake. Her reflection on social media, though, is wide awake.

With an automatic gesture, she opens the comment tab on the latest video. It’s the new roleplay video you and she recorded the day before. The video had already racked up an impressive number of views. She sighs, taking a sip as she reads through the comments. It’s the usual mix of praise, teasing, and, of course, the kind of absurdity only the internet can provide.

"Little sis, you drove me crazy today!"

Eunbi lets out a muffled laugh. "Little sis" was probably the mildest term she came across in that sea of comments.

She quickly types a reply:

"Careful, or 'big brother' will get you too! 😘"

"I wish I were your blood brother, damn, just to make it all wrong!! I'd sneak into your room every night after our parents were asleep so we could 'play' together 😈"

Who knew people could take a weird fantasy and make it even more bizarre and unsettling?

"You need therapy, darling, but thanks for the love 🙂"

"The way you bit your lip... it made me... lose my mind."

Ah yes, the detail-oriented observers. They're always around.

"Glad I could help!!"

And then comes the classic:

"Step on me more, mommy!!!"

This time, she laughed out loud. What kind of twisted logic was this?

'Mommy' in a little sister video?

"Sweetie, pick a fantasy. I can't be your little sis AND your mommy at the same time 😅"

"Just show your face already, everyone knows you're hot"

She paused for a second. That comment felt like a jab somewhere inside her. Her face was the last piece she kept hidden, the final wall of protection between Eunbi and the world she had chosen to explore.

She took another sip of coffee as the comments kept popping up on the screen. The amount of absurdity was always a surprise, even for her. But the show had to go on, and responding was an important part of ‘engagement’.

Ah, the wonderful engagement.

"You’re my muse. One day, I’ll marry you!"

She rolled her eyes but kept a polite tone in her reply:

"Glad to inspire... but let’s start with something simpler, like not marrying strangers from the internet.

Kisses 😘"

Next comment.

"I'd give anything to be that tight top on your massive tits 😊"

Eunbi nearly dropped her phone from laughing so hard. What kind of fetish was this now? She took a deep breath before typing:

"Well, it’s actually a baby tee, but I guess clothes live too dull a life for anyone to want to be one. But who am I to judge your dreams?"

Another one popped up right after.

"Hey sis, how about teaching me in person? I’ve got so much to learn... 😏"

Ah, the ever-eager students. She rolled her eyes again, smiling slightly.

"You can learn a lot on your own with a good imagination!"

"You should make a video stepping on Legos barefoot. I bet that would be amazing!!!"

What? Where did these people come from? She bit her lip, trying to hold back laughter as she typed her reply:

"I try to keep my videos at an entertainment level, not torture 🥰 But I appreciate the creativity!"

"It’s obvious you only do this because you love being a slut, I can see it in your expression, even with the mask 🔥 I’m already your number one fan."

Her smile faltered a little. A mix of praise and silent invasion that left her with a mild discomfort.

"Glad you enjoyed the content! Loving what I do is essential. But don’t get too carried away, alright?"

She gave one last glance at the rising view and like counts, but the comments started to lose their charm.

And that’s when the ping of a LinkedIn notification appeared at the top of the screen. An app she had basically forgotten she had installed since the last time she used it was to block an annoying old guy who was pestering her.

She reads the message:

Subject: Job Opportunity - Marketing Department.

Dear Kwon Eunbi,

We are pleased to inform you that your profile has caught the attention of our Marketing Department. After a brief review, we would like to invite you to participate in the selection process for the position of Marketing Analyst.

Responsibilities:

- Development of communication and digital marketing strategies;

- Analysis of KPIs and market trends;

- Collaboration with creative teams and planning advertising campaigns;

Requirements:

- Bachelor’s degree in Marketing or related fields;

- Previous experience managing digital campaigns;

Benefits:

- Competitive salary;

- Health and dental plan;

- Flexibility for hybrid work (remote);

We look forward to your response to schedule an interview.

She almost spits out her coffee.

What the hell is this?!

For a second, everything seemed to make sense, as if the universe was aligning the stars to give her a 'respectable' way out.

But only for a second.

In truth, it felt like the damn universe was conspiring against her.

The thought of waking up early every day, dressing like an executive, sitting in a cubicle, and smiling at people she probably couldn’t stand while doing mechanical tasks...

“No, no, no. No way,” she says aloud in the empty apartment as anxiety starts to tighten around her. And the strangest part is that she feels... bad. Bad for not wanting it. Bad for thinking she should want it.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. Maybe she should, right? Maybe being ‘normal’ would be easier. Maybe this whole video thing is just a phase. She looks at her coffee, as if it held the answers, but it only reflected her face back at her. She gulps the rest down, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

On the one hand, the college-era Eunbi would’ve jumped for joy at this message. A great job in her field, something ‘respectable’ career-wise; it doesn’t get much better than that.

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly her big dream, but who, after all, dreams of spreadsheets and endless emails? But now, the idea of a normal life, with bosses, deadlines, and white collars, suffocates her more than any corset in a photoshoot. She’s thinking about how good it felt to leave all that behind, how much she loved the freedom she had now.

Sure, she graduated, but that’s not what she wants.

Not anymore.

But

On the other hand, something inside her hesitated to accept that she didn’t want this opportunity. It was like there was a younger version of her somewhere, screaming in panic: "You can’t be serious, right? Turning down a job like that to... keep being a virtual slut? You’re definitely not me..." And that little voice it's annoying because it hit on an uncomfortable truth. She had, at some point, carved out a different path. A temporary one. And now, this path it's leading her into the unknown, and this offer it's like a way back to her old life.

Monotonous, but dignified.

Difficult, but without exposure.

The safe choice or the leap into the abyss.

College-era Eunbi would say being stuck in an absurd dilemma like this was insane. But the Eunbi of today knows that 'conventional' career isn’t for her.

"This is my life now," she murmurs to herself. Creating adult content wasn’t just a choice; it was her choice. And not only is she going to keep doing it — she’s going all in!

Showing her face.

Now that would be a bold move.

No more masks.

The real Eunbi for the world.

She only has one small obstacle ahead: you. She needs to tell you. Explain how things were about to change. Show you that, even though she once said this was temporary, she’s rediscovered herself and finally found something she’s good at and willing to put her effort into.

She sighs and thinks about the conversation she’ll have. Knowing you, it’s going to be a tough one. You’ll definitely want to argue, try to convince her to take the more traditional route, thinking you’re protecting her. But it’s her life, her body, her decisions.

And if she’s going all in, she has to start by being honest.

When you get back, she’ll lay it all out. In the meantime, she stretches, still feeling the weight of the job offer, and tries to imagine the look on your face when she explains her plans.

—

You come back from the run looking like a drowned rat, which, considering the weather outside, is a reasonably accurate description. Your shoes make that annoying sponge sound as you walk across the room, and Eunbi is there, sitting on the couch, sipping coffee like she’s contemplating the meaning of life—or more realistically, deciding what her next big revelation of the morning is going to be.

“Good morning,” you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Good morning...” she replies. You look away as if you have something really important to do—like grab a towel.

The bathroom is a good place to rehearse difficult conversations, so you do that while you dry off, but the words still sound wrong in your head. It’s not like there’s a manual on how to confess to your best friend that you’re in love with her after you’ve filmed sex videos together.

It would be helpful if there was.

After grabbing a coffee and taking a sip, bracing yourself for the bomb you’re about to drop, you walk back to the living room. Eunbi is still there, but now you’re looking at each other like two actors who know the big scene is coming, but neither wants to be the first to step on stage.

“We need to talk,” you both say at the same time, which would be funny if it weren’t an absolutely terrible moment for comedy.

“You first,” you say, trying to sound generous.

“No… you, please,” she insists.

“Okay,” you sigh, sitting down on the couch, already feeling the weight of what’s about to happen. The words gather in your throat, like a rescue team about to jump out of a helicopter. “Look, what I’m about to say isn’t easy. In fact, it’s pretty hard. And it could... well, it could change our friendship. Maybe forever.”

Eunbi nods, encouraging you, though her expression clearly says, ‘I know this is big, but I’m going to pretend I’m calm.’

“I love you,” you finally say, the words coming out stronger than you expected. “And no, it’s not just a friend thing. I’m in love with you, and I’ve been feeling this for a while. Since... since we started filming together, actually. Every time we did a scene, something inside me got more confused, like the fake sex was revealing real feelings.”

Eunbi looks at you, surprised, but she doesn’t interrupt, so you keep going. “I thought it was temporary, something that would go away over time, but it only got stronger. And honestly, I can’t keep going like this, pretending nothing’s changed, because it has. I’m in love with you, for real. I want to be with you. Not just filming together, but... living with you, as a couple. I want us to be real.”

You take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension release from your chest, but vulnerability quickly takes its place. Eunbi looks at you, her eyes slightly teary, and then, before anything else, she says, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you repeat, confused.

“For making you film all of this with me. I didn’t know what you were going through. I had no idea it was hurting you inside. If I’d known...” She pauses, trying to find the right words, but they seem as hard for her as they were for you. “I would’ve stopped.”

You shake your head, almost laughing, but not in a happy way. “No, you don’t have to apologize. What matters is now, and now is that... I’m being honest. I love you.”

She smiles, that smile you know so well, but now it seems different, softer, more... meaningful. “I like you too. A lot. And I’m not just saying that because you confessed. It’s weird, you know? I’ve been in relationships before, but it was never like this. We have this... bond, this connection I’ve never had with anyone. And I think, actually, I’ve always felt something for you, I just didn’t know exactly what it was. Now I do.”

She pauses, wiping away a solitary tear that escaped despite her efforts. “I want this too. I want to be with you. For real. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. We’ve spent so much time together, it... feels right. It feels like it’s how it’s supposed to be.”

You feel your heart leap in your chest. It’s surreal, all of this.

“So...?”

“So... I guess we’re together,” she says, still smiling, and this time you feel like the smile is for you, and only you.

“Finally,” you say, half-joking, but it’s an undeniable truth.

Still in the high of the magical moment, your heart beating faster than usual for all the right reasons, you decide now is the perfect moment to drop your second bomb.

“Oh, there’s one more thing,” you say, smiling like someone who just found a lost bill in their coat pocket. “Great news, actually. My friend messaged me. The company where he works loved your profile!! You might be getting a job offer soon!”

You wait for a scream of happiness, a tight hug, or even an improvised celebratory dance, but none of that happens. Eunbi doesn’t react the way you imagined. In fact, she seems to have frozen in place, as if someone hit the pause button on real life.

“So it was you?” she asks, her voice suddenly cold.

“Me?” you repeat, having no idea where this is coming from. “Me what?”

She sighs, like someone on the verge of losing their patience. “I got a job offer on LinkedIn.”

You blink, absorbing the information, and then smile widely. “Oh, so it worked! That’s great! I mean, now you have a chance to get out of this life... right?” But Eunbi’s expression, far from joyful, is one of... anger? Something between irritation and deep disappointment starts to form in her eyes.

“Why the hell did you do that?” she asks, her tone more like a police interrogation than a simple question.

You’re stunned, you feel like you’ve just been slapped in the face. “What? I was trying to help. I just wanted what’s best for you!”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she fires back, her tone growing harsher, like someone who’s been holding something in for a long time and finally let it out.

The ground starts to shift beneath your feet, the romantic and peaceful moment now turning into an unexpected storm. “Drop the pride, Eunbi,” you say, trying to maintain control of the situation. “This is your chance to get out of this life. You don’t have to keep doing... you know, what you’re doing now. And now that we’re on the same page, that you feel something for me too, we can be a real couple. Isn’t that what you want?”

She looks at you for a long, silent moment, as if she’s trying to decide if you’re really as clueless as you seem or if you’re just pretending not to understand what’s happening.

“This has nothing to do with pride,” she says, finally, with a calm that’s more frightening than any scream. “That job offer... it made me feel like crap! It made me rethink everything. Who I am, what I want... And you just... don’t get it.”

You really don’t get it.

Of all the scenarios that ran through your head, this one didn’t even come close to showing up. “I don’t understand. You wanted a stable job in your field, didn’t you?”

She shakes her head, exasperated. “I thought I did. I mean, that was the initial plan when I got fired from my last job. But... I can’t. I don’t want to... What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not going to take that job.”

The silence that follows is so heavy you can almost hear the sound of raindrops hitting the window.

“So, what are you going to do?” you ask, your voice quieter than you expected.

Eunbi looks you in the eye, and suddenly, the full weight of what she’s about to say appears in her expression. “I’m going to keep doing what I do. I’m going to be an adult content creator, but this time, I’m going all in. No more anonymity. I’m going to show my face. That’s what I’ve decided. This is going to be my life now.”

It’s at that moment that your brain, which had been busy processing the joy of the love confession, just stops working.

This wasn’t in the script.

She was supposed to be happy about the job, you were supposed to be celebrating and planning a future as a normal couple.

Not this...

“You... you want to keep doing this?” you ask, incredulity leaking into every word.

She looks at you with a mix of sadness and determination. “Yes. I want to keep doing it. I want people to see me. I want to keep doing what I do. I love it. And if you’re going to be with me, you’re going to have to accept all of that too.”

The words echo in the room. You stand there, looking at her, trying to fit the pieces of this emotional puzzle that, until seconds ago, was a beautiful, simple picture of a future together. Now, it feels more like one of those abstract paintings people pretend to understand.

She takes a deep breath, and you can tell that the emotion is about to overflow. "Look... I really love you. Truly. And if you want, I'll be the happiest woman in the world by your side. But—" she pauses, the word hanging in the air like a sword about to fall, "if you want to be with me, you’re going to have to accept this Eunbi. The Eunbi you see now, who does what she does. And the weight that comes with it."

Silence. You hear your heart pounding in your chest, so loud it's a wonder Eunbi can't hear it too. The world feels like it’s moving in slow motion, the time between blinks stretching out as if the master of time himself is waiting to see what you’ll say. But what can you say? You’re still processing everything. The confession, the proposal, the fact that she wants to continue in this career—and wants you to be a part of it.

"You... you want to... keep going?" The question comes out hesitantly. You can hardly believe you're asking it. The shock is a physical thing, sitting between you like a third person in the room.

Eunbi, her eyes already shining with tears she’s trying so hard to hold back, nods. "Yes. I want to keep going. I want people to see me. I want to keep doing what I do. I love it. And if you’re going to be with me, you’ll have to accept all of that too."

The tears finally fall, one after the other, as if gravity had won the battle she was trying to fight. You watch, unsure if what you’re feeling is fear, sadness, or some strange sense of relief.

Maybe all of it at once.

She continues, her voice now shaky but still steady. “You can think it over, if you want. This is serious. Our parents are going to find out sooner or later. You know the kind of exposure we’ll face... that I’ll face. And if you’re with me, we’ll be facing that together.”

Eunbi looks directly at you, the intensity in her eyes almost painful. “You warned me about this before. You’ve always worried about me. But if you stay with me now, there’s no going back. People we know might find out, they might see. Are you really willing to risk everything because of me?”

Another pause. This time, it’s not dramatic. It’s just a simple pause, where your mind, suddenly overwhelmed by all these emotions, finds a small space of clarity.

And in that space, the decision that seemed so complicated just moments ago suddenly makes sense.

“Yes,” you say, the word leaving your mouth with a calmness that surprises even you. Eunbi’s eyes widen, as if she isn’t sure she heard you right.

“I accept,” you continue, firmly. "I accept you as you are. If this is what you want to do with your life, then that’s fine by me. I’ll be by your side, no matter what."

She stands there, looking at you like you're some kind of alien that just landed on Earth. And then the tears she was holding back finally fall. But this time, they aren’t tears of sadness or anger. They’re something completely different. Relief, maybe. Or raw happiness, the kind you rarely see.

“Are you sure?” she asks, between sobs. "I... I mean, this won’t be easy! You can think about it more. You can really consider what you’re accepting, what it’s going to mean for you, for us."

You give her that half-smile, the one you know always made her feel safe. "Eunbi," you say, calmly, "I’ve already thought about it. I accept the risk, the exposure. I accept you... As long as I’m with you, it’s all okay."

And with that, she falls apart. Not in a sad or uncontrolled way, but in a beautiful, genuine way. She starts crying, but they’re tears of gratitude, of love, of everything she’s held inside for so long.

You step closer and wrap your arms around her, as if trying to protect her from the whole world. She cries into your chest, her words lost between sobs. You kiss the top of her head, taking in the familiar scent of the shampoo she always uses.

"I love you so much," she says through her tears, her voice muffled against you.

"I love you too," you reply, with a sincerity that fills her up from the inside. “We’re in this together.”

And then, there, in the midst of tears, hugs, and confessions, the world seems to align again. The mess it was before starts to make sense.

Okay, maybe it’s not a fairy tale, but who needs a fairy tale ending when you can have something this real, this alive, this raw, this imperfect and yet, somehow, so absolutely perfect?

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

With her.

—

[Rubydden] Three minutes ago

This month, we’re going to skyrocket the quality of our content!!

And to kick things off: FACE REVEAL!!🔥🥳

[alphajocklover]

InstaJock: Going Viral

**Hey! This is my entry for @occamstfs Viral Transformation Challenge. Congrats on getting 2,000 followers, and thank you for beta reading this and helping me edit it. I hope I can get to 2,000 followers myself one day! For those who are new to my stories, this does connect to the plot established in my blog, but the concept is simple enough you should be able to follow along even if you don't usually read my stuff! I hope you all enjoy!**

When I talk about the InstaJock App Phenomenon – which I seem to do a lot. What is this, the 17th InstaJock related post? I need to diversify more – I usually talk about the transformation aspects and not the app itself. That’s partially because the transformation is the most interesting and hottest part, but it’s also because I haven’t been able to take a good look at the app. Even with all the protective spells and equipment I have, I can’t use a phone with InstaJock on it for very long without getting an urge to set up an account. 

Until now.

With some help from the devilishly handsome (and literally devilish) Nick, I’ve been able to get my hands on some better equipment and better explore the app. I was able to spend a couple hours on it before I needed to quit, and actually got some very interesting information, mainly about how the app works post-transformation. I had always assumed that once a user got transformed into a jock, they’d ignore the app from then on unless they wanted to change someone. I was very, very wrong, not just about that but about the purpose of the app itself. It’s not just for making people into jocks: it’s for finding the best ones.

The app generally works like any other social media app, with its members posting about their interests. It’s set up is a lot like Instagram, where pictures and videos are the main format used for posting, but what really makes it different from other social media apps is the content. You can probably guess what an app full of buff cocky jocks looks like, but I’ll confirm it for you: the app is a thirst trap paradise.

The entire app is stuffed with half naked –  and sometimes fully naked – photos of buff jocks, ones of all different kinds. If you can think up a jock related stereotype, they have a full hashtag dedicated to it. Just buff jocks playing sports, flexing and making out with other hot people, for as far. I know that doesn’t sound too different from normal social media apps, as most have a healthy NSFW side, but the posts have more in common then just showing jocks. Each and every post, every one that I saw, mentioned a Master. Some were talking about how they were getting pumped up at the gym for Master, some were talking about how they loved being jocks and were so glad Master had found them, and some were literally begging for Master to notice them, often wantonly describing how they’d debase themselves and be the sluttiest jock ever, all for him. Everyone on the app would post at least once a day about this mysterious Master. It doesn’t seem to matter if the jock is a dom, a sub, a top, a bottom, in a relationship, single, gay or even straight, all of them wanted this mysterious unnamed master – so much so they seemed to completely change personalities whenever he is mentioned. It seems instaJock has an additional side effect I didn’t know about till now: complete and utter devotion to their Master.

It took me a while, and some covert interviewing of a number of jocks in their DMs, but I think I figured out what's happening. The Jocks aren’t just posting for fun, they’re competing with each other. InstaJock isn’t really a social media app, it’s a sort of ranking app. Every day the jocks log on, post a picture of themselves with a caption somehow related to their Master, and leave likes on some of the other posts, usually the ones they find hot. If a jock’s post gets enough likes though, they get what every jock wants, what all of them are trying to get. They get to Go Viral.

Going Viral on IntsaJock isn’t like going viral on a regular app. It essentially means you’ve gotten enough likes, been reposted enough times, and have become popular enough on the site… that Master has noticed you. That's what the social media part of the app is really for. It’s just a way for Master’s jocks to organize themselves so only the hottest ones show up on his feed. If he really likes you, he’ll do more than just look too. Soon that Jock will disappear from his regular life, never to be seen again, whisked away to become a part of Master’s personal harem. This entire time the app has been about one thing: creating lovestruck sex slaves for the man who created InstaJock.

Like most actual social media apps, InstaJock jumps from one thing to another, and what's viral is always changing. But there are two tags that are always trending on InstaJock. The first, and most popular, is #JockMaster, which is only ever used by this mysterious Master when he makes a post. I’ve seen his account. He never shows his face on it, but from what little of his body that makes it into the photos, he’s… enchanting. As much as I hate to admit it, seeing just a bit of that creep almost made me drool. He usually only posts a couple times a week, as opposed to the jock who posts daily, but everything he posts goes viral on the app in moments. I’ll admit, there's something about his posts that is just… hypnotic. I almost set up an account after seeing one myself, and probably would have if Nick wasn’t there to stop me.

The other tag that's always trending is… more interesting, at least to me. It’s #MastersBoyfriend. It’s another tag used only by Master, and one he uses whenever he posts a picture of one particular member of his harem. 

Whenever he posts pictures… of my Uncle John.

I finally know who took my Uncle. I know who this Master is. I suspected it was him for a while, but now I’m sure. The man who made InstaJock and the man who turned my Uncle into a slutty buff himbo are one in the same. I finally have proof.

So now what?

**The identity of the person behind InstaJock AND the person behind my Uncle's transformation and kidnapping has finally been revealed! Been working up to this for a long time, and I'm glad to keep this story moving forward! Hope you liked it as much as I do! Thank you to @occamstfs once again for being absolutely awesome and inspiring!**

[theemporium]

congrats again on 10k! can i order a you're mai tai number 31 with norstappen?

-🌠

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

31. doing a pinky swear

.

“I am too old for this shit.”

“Babe—”

“My heart can only take so much! It’s like you two want to kill me.”

“Schat—”

“Do not try to be cute with me, Verstappen,” you shot the boy a glare, quickly silencing him. And when you heard some snickers coming from the other boy, your glare shifted to him too. “You too, Norris. I’m angry at both of you.”

“We were racing, baby,” Lando said with a small shrug of his shoulders. “It happens.”

“Yeah, not like that though!” You argued, crossing your arms over your chest before either boy could try to reach for you. “You both were reckless, pulling stupid moves and you’re both lucky neither one of you got hurt.”

Max’s eyes softened a little. “I know you’re worried but we are fine. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not,” you huffed, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, now bitten red and raw. “It was fucking terrifying to watch. And then you both wouldn’t even talk to each other—”

“Emotions were high,” Lando murmured with blushing cheeks.

“—and then people kept making stupid edits and just,” you took a pause to breathe. “I love you both. And you’re amazing drivers. But you cannot pull shit like that for the rest of the season if you’re both competing for the championship.”

And you didn’t want to sound bitchy. You knew they knew what they were doing, you trusted them behind those wheels because they understood racing far better than you ever could. But you were worried and Austria gave you a glimpse into a possible future where things don’t work out nicely and you didn’t like it.

You don’t want either boy to get hurt. You don’t want to see either boy hurt each other. And you certainly didn’t want repeats of Sunday night in Austria where neither boy wanted to talk to you or each other.

“We know,” Max murmured softly as he reached for you, as you finally gave in as he tugged you close until you were standing between him and Lando. “We can’t promise something won’t happen again because we can’t always control that.”

“But we promise we won’t do it when we can avoid it,” Lando finished, slotting in behind you with his hands resting on your waist. “We want to race each other, fair and square.”

“Promise?” You murmured, looking between the boys with a hopeful expression.

“Promise,” both boys nodded in unison.

But you lifted your hands, offering a pinky to each of them with a serious expression on your face. “Pinky swear?”

Max snorted but joined Lando in hooking his pinky around yours. “We swear.”

“I double swear,” Lando added, cheeky and playful and yelping when Max reached over to punch him.

“Good,” you sighed, shoulders dropping in relief and a smile taking over your face. “But that stunt in Austria was still bullshit and I’m still annoyed you both ignored me after the race so no blowjobs for a week.”

Max’s lips parted in surprise whilst Lando squawked. “What? No! Why a week?”

You shrugged, grinning. “Have fun entertaining each other, boys.”

.

[breathinlove]

band!ellie headcanons and smau

read this

sinopse: ellie williams is the lead singer in a band (+some texts with her). i lost the resquest im so sorry!

cw: nsfw after the texts with warning! swearing, ellie's a changed woman after you, reader works in a record store and ellie's a simp.

part 2

band!ellie who is obviously in a band with dina and jesse.

band!ellie who had cat in the band when they started, but they had massive drama when they broke up. (they're on good terms now tho! trust).

band!ellie who had a phase where her and jesse liked dina the fans call it throuple era

band!ellie who got matching flash tattoos on her very first serious show with dina and jesse.

band!ellie who is kind of a fuckgirl and looooves her fans iykwim.

“just until i find the wife.” that's her lame excuse.

band!ellie who is the type of girl to have groupies and sign their tits.

band!ellie mets you at the fuckass record store where you work.

"is that you?" you gather the courage to ask about what she was buying and she smiles proudly. "it's our debut album." "congrats." you sigh before lifting your head to continue. "i bought one this morning when they came in, thought it looked cool." and she has to ask for your number cause why the hell did that make her heart melt.

band!ellie who just looks like she's never kissed before when you're the one to initiate the first kiss. (:0)

band!ellie who 3 dates in invites you to one of her local shows, having you in the front line (eye contact goes insane...).

band!ellie who makes her thristy fans they bite their tongue when she leans over to you at the edge of the stage. singing to you, fingers on your chin.

band!ellie who soon enough is on tour and texting you less. you try to move on (you're soooo wrong for that because she's just busy and thinking about you).

band!ellie always talking about you to dina and jesse.

“i need to get back to my girl.” she's so delusional too.

band!ellie who is instantly only focused on you, weirdly adding your name in every cover of romantic songs they do at rehearsal.

band!ellie who the first thing she does when she's back is run to the record store.

“how was the tour?” you asked, she's leaning on the counter and you take a step back. she replied with an “i missed you.” and you're not even hesitanting anymore.

band!ellie who wastes no time asking you to be her girlfriend after you cuss her out because she was late to one of your dates (she thinks it's hot asf).

band!ellie who is soooo daddy upstage but you know she wants and NEEDS to be babied.

band!ellie who notices you were upset she had a show your birthday, so she called you on stage and serenaded you as if she was justin bieber… flowers and everything. (she sang “one less lonely girl”)

her fr^

band!ellie who when she's out and fans stop her… she's so sweet and attentive but she wouldn't want to be late to see you

“sorry girls, the wife is waiting i have to go.”

texts with band!ellie

nsfw (cw: cunnilingus [e!receiving], strap on sex [r!receiving]. switch!ellie!!!!).

band!ellie who absolutely loves good luck head when you're backstage.

“baby just needs some encouragement, am i right?” you ask softly between open mouthed kisses on her lower stomach and thighs. she nods. “yes… need your tongue.” she grunts, thrusting her hips. you start licking and kissing her slit and she can't help but grind against your tongue until she cums all over it.

band!ellie who loves it when you ride her strap too, but she has to switch out and completely dick you down… with permission after not touching you for so long.

“please let me fuck that pussy.” she knows you're getting tired, since you didn't even slap her hand when she started rubbing your clit. “come on…” she spits down your clit. “tired, babe?” you nod breathlessly grinding on her lap. she fucks up into you “tell me i can fuck you…” but she's already doing it?? “f-fuck me, ellie.” and now she's grining and holding you flat. “damn, this pussy's split open.” as she bottoms that shit deep in you. she will fuck you stupid.

a/n: this is a lot but i enjoyed doing it... and.... my phone's charged!