#THIS DUMBASS IS GONNA THIRST AS MUCH AS THEY WANT

[worldsover]

Hourglass ft. Saerom

length ✦ 15.6k

genres ✧ anal; fwb!Saerom

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth, lips parched. Though you asked Saerom for water, you didn’t need to be directed. You remember the important things. Cups in the third cabinet from the right. The water pitcher in the fridge. Everything else about her home is slightly off in your memory. An experimental flick of a switch, so she has yet to replace the lights in the range hood, and now they blink instead of being merely dim. Turn that back off. A different blender, no doubt more robust for all the shakes she makes. New polaroid photos of Saerom and her members on the fridge. Even pictures with Gyuri, but nothing recent as nine as you expected. So that’s what one year looks like.

"Are you gonna hang out in my kitchen all night?" Saerom asks as she walks in, arms crossed and smirking. For all that's changed in Saerom's home, how little has changed with the woman herself? The blunt bangs are new and of course, you’ve never seen this outfit, the flattering blue tube top and denim skirt, but you expected as much with all the clothes she went through. Beneath it all, though, was the same supermodel-esque Saerom. Emphasis on beneath. Beneath, what you were most intimately familiar with. Beneath, what you’re imagining at this very moment.

"Wasn’t planning on it. just taking in how long it’s been," you say. "I like the new painting in your living room, the one with the flowers."

"Thanks. I made it, actually. Little hobby I picked up in our… downtime. But yes. You're right. It has been long." Her words are sharp. The next one is sharper: "Bedroom." 

Saerom’s eyes fill in the rest of the directive. Now. We’re going to fuck. Stop wasting time. Dumbass. You didn’t realize how many words could fit in a gaze. Or some of those meanings are conveyed through her narrowed eyelids. You weren’t fluent in the language of the unspoken, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying.

In the time it takes to decrypt the whole one-word message (she’ll at least let you grab that drink, right?), you realize you’re gazing back. 

Saerom shakes her head and laughs to herself. "It’s like you’re doing this on purpose."

She walks away, but this lingering look of yours is deliberate. Saerom knows it as she looks back and now her smile is much naughtier. She might not know that you’re first staring at her bare shoulders. You want to touch them, massage them, lick them, kiss them, everything. 

Water wouldn’t help your thirst anyway, so you follow Saerom to the bedroom. The familiar last room of the hallway, on the left, its location is seared in your brain. You’d know it sober but horny, and drunk but hornier, so you path in the same footsteps you always did. You only lag behind Saerom for self-evident reasons, your eyes on the target of desire, her pert rear. This time, with the close fit of her skirt, you can make out the shape of your favorite shape to make out with. Her cozy, pillowy thighs look perfect as ever to rest your head upon as well.

The mere act of walking into the room stirs heat in your core. You can’t help but associate this room with the carnal. The only lights in the room are the moonlight filtering through the window and the warm lamp in the corner, and the dimness reminds you of your many restless nights.

Saerom sits on her bed, those thighs settling down and squishing in just the right way. Heat turns to pressure, in turn, turns into a cock imprint on your pants.

"I still don’t like how you just stand there," she says.

Her words make you shift weight from one foot to the other. You should sit, approach, anything, but no, you continue to stand. "You leave me speechless sometimes. I can’t help but watch."

"That’s sweet." Saerom gets up and walks up to you until there’s barely any space between you and her. "But I need you to do more than watch. Especially since you’ve taken this long to see me again."

"You changed your number," you say. But you already knew this was a flimsy excuse.

"And you could’ve DM’ed me. Texted any of the other members." Saerom scoffs. "You could’ve tried. Anything. Apparently it took us literally bumping in the mall to meet again."

A centimeter from making out, minutes away from sex, this wasn’t the time or place to bring it up. However, you had to bring it up at some point. When you hold her hand, Saerom freezes, caught off guard. 

"I’m sorry," you say. "You know me, how I overthink things. It’s not like we were dating or anything. just, you know, friends that did a bit more than friend things."

"In that case… " The vexing half-smile, half-frown on Saerom confirms your self-awareness—at least you know that you’re overanalyzing the shape of her lips. "You could’ve been a better friend."

Why do you talk at all? What a mistake speech can be. As you look down, away from Saerom’s eyes, your grip on her hand loosens. Despite being in this beautiful and blatantly horny woman’s bedroom, you think about walking away in shame—

But her fingers clasp.

"Not this time."

Words into actions, Saerom grabs your shirt with the free hand and pushes you toward the wall. No, there is no escape, when you look down into the intoxicating image of her cleavage, when her breasts press up against you. Your cock hardens in your pants and pushes up against her waist, turning the rest of you into a melting painting (in which you’ve become modern art and don’t care to debate your artistic merits). All the worries disappear in a heartbeat as you recall this exhilaration. At one point, this was an addiction for the two of you: you were both in the middle of promotions and found time to fuck every day for a week straight. You learned her body inside and out.

Time to relearn.

It’s 9:03, the clock above her bed.

You gently place your hand on the back of her head, the other hand between her tube top and skirt, feeling the warmth of her back. 

You lean in.

The lesson starts with the taste of her lips. It might be sweeter than usual, or it could be time twisting the taste, though either way, the flavor honeys you in deeper. The focus of your touch is split between melting into her mouth and gripping, relearning, the various parts of her perfect body. What was a gentle hold becomes a clingier clasp of her hair, and she does the same to you. Another pull, Saerom grips the neck of your shirt, clamoring for you to somehow get closer (space between the two of you is at a premium). Your hand on her back follows the groove of her spine—no, make a detour to get a feel of the muscles in her lean back, lats, and all that. You end up under her top where you tempt to pull it off, but no, not yet, you’re getting a feel of things, reacquainting yourself. Warm skin becomes warmer, becomes the canvas for subtle beads of sweat. Get used to that too, because you’re guaranteed a full-body workout tonight.

Warmth spreads to her breath, or at least you gain a keener awareness of its heat on your lips, its subtle nostalgic taste. Awareness becomes a small thorn: you and Saerom need to breathe, so you draw back. 

9:07, but it feels like 9:03 and thirty seconds give or take leaning on the side of give. When you look into her eyes instead of the clock, it’s not a matter of seconds or minutes—months that have passed you are coming back in these familiarly firing nerves, where spikes of bliss rewind you to the visceral parts of your memories.

With how Saerom’s hands are latching onto your clothes, under your clothes, she might as well rip them off now. While your lips return to hers, your hands are taking a more subtle approach, your fingers drawing and memorizing the lines and curves of her body. Starting at her forearm, you track her muscles, from her svelte but sturdy biceps to her firm delicious shoulders, the sum of her efforts working out. You remember her habits as a welcome contagion that’s spread to you, the stretches she’d do after an intense session of fucking, the ungodly huge jug of water she’d gulp down—simple things in your daily life that you took for granted. Then, her eager tongue slides into your mouth and you’re back in the moment, your digits moving toward the crook of her neck. She always had a particular sensitivity here, a simple press of your fingertip into her skin earning a surprisingly loud moan, though it might also be your tongue pushing back into her mouth. 

You want to pretend that you can keep up this momentum of appreciating the small details, want to remind Saerom of your dexterity; however, your hands find themselves on her tits, over her tube top. Your squeezing and groping are only recompenses for Saerom’s mounting lack of restraint. She’s rubbing her crotch against your erection—does she want to make you unload in your pants? Because she could, easily—she has one leg hooked around you, and she’s making your massaging of her breasts seem tame in comparison to the nails starting to dig into your back.

Saerom and you have never kissed like this. Never kissed like you were trying to escalate from a little scrap to an all-out battle royal. It’s not tongues sliding, but tongues dancing, not hands feeling, hands taking and sinking and grabbing as if you might lose yourselves another year—why bother with what was lost, but instead, the things you will lose. The time, your mind, all control. Don’t try. Let go.

You’re only kissing, so why is there so much saliva? Each escape for air is made a mess by more and more thin bridging strands of spit between your lips, and more is exchanged when your mouths converge again. And you only take breaks for Saerom’s jaw or her cheek or her nose, giving each sculpted feature the kisses they deserve, and Saerom only takes breaks with her thumb on your lip—she sticks out her tongue, showing off the bubbly spit she’s pooled in her mouth, and you’re happy to receive before these breaks have to take a break: you need to kiss her again/she needs to kiss you again.

You’re only kissing, so why is there so much noise? A deep guttural noise nearing growls from out of your mouth meets the unexpectedly cute high-pitched moans out of Saerom at the lips’ points of contact, maybe amplified by the meeting of tongues or the lewd exchange of spit. But the erotic makes way for the romantic, and the two of you resonate in a shared low hum as you slow your pace, control your breathing, trade smiles and giggles and longing looks, no need to rush.

But then, there’s no need to rush, and you’re only kissing, so why is your heart racing out of orbit? And this isn’t close to the first time you’ve kissed, so why can you feel Saerom’s heart beating the same hurried way? The answer is obvious in hindsight. The past is an eternity and the present is infinitesimally small, contained to a single point; that is, your hearts are making up for the lost time.

(Only kissing, yet pulses inside you already threaten to end it here, how embarrassing. (But then on second thought, absolutely nothing to be ashamed of with Saerom's unfair allure.))

All this in a kiss, in a pair of lips upon another. Two selves are reduced to two bodies, flesh and all. Look at Saerom when you pull away, and you’re back to two selves, mind and all. Swipe away the long hair that’s fallen on her face, and help fix her thick bangs. She smiles at you.

Glance at the clock again, and it’s 9:18, closer to 9:04 in your mind. You might have discovered time travel.

She pulls you off the wall—you didn’t notice that you were sagging against it, that you’ve lowered yourself nearly face to face with Saerom—and then she brings you toward her bed. A light push knocks you off balance, though you land on her mattress.

"Smooth," you say, and Saerom giggles.

You reposition so that you’re sitting on the edge of her bed. Soft, springy, doesn’t make too much noise even when two people are testing the limits of its suspension—you remember all that well. The sheets always dried surprisingly quickly if you hung them outside overnight. Plus, it’s the exact height for you to place your feet on the ground, and for Saerom’s head to lean against your thigh. There, kneeling, as if home inside her home, she watches your cock twitch under your pants when she paws at it experimentally.

"And you’re frustrated when I watch," you say.

"Hey, you can’t say I’m just watching." Saerom rubs you up and down over your pants and your jaw clenches. "But you’re right."

When Saerom gets a hold of your shirt, you raise your arms.

"You’re still in good shape," she says, smiling proudly.

"Thank you. I definitely don’t miss the diets, but I’m happy they got me in the habit of working out. Plus, you gave me plenty of motivation."

"Mhm." She traces your abs. They aren't washboard muscular (read, photoshopped) since you’re not lifting your shirt for audiences anymore, but they are decently taut, hinting at a six-pack. As you said, you were over the sort of daily sweet potato diet to keep that up. But for this reaction, Saerom's half-lidded eyes gazing at your midriff, you’ll gladly keep up your other routines.

Saerom then tugs your waistband, taking both your pants and boxers an inch down, then another, teasing you with the incremental progress. You can only sit still and keep your hands on the mattress’ edge. When your cockhead pokes out, she smiles, then forgoes any inhibition, stripping you straight down to your ankles. Your shaft springs free, and it nearly hits her face, but Saerom instinctually dodges it. Saerom ducks under your dick, centering it over her face, and she lets out a long exhale. Warm air flows around your length, though the jolts racing up your body are cold. 

"I miss this cock. None of my toys compare." With a light frown, Saerom rests her head on your thigh again. She lightly and playfully traces your shaft with one finger.

"You really know how to boost an ego—ahh." Your jaw is wide, breaths ragged when her fingertip circles around your frenulum, the spot sensitive to her agonizingly light touch.

"Oh. Is that precum? Already?" Saerom’s narrowed eyes change focus from the slight pulses of your cock to your transfixed gaze, and that alone earns another white drop. Her finger traces up, and now she’s drawing circles at the top of your cockhead, smearing stickiness around.

"God, Saerom. You’re so fucking hot." Her touch pulls the truth out of you. It didn’t need to be spoken, but by her smile, it’s always worth stating the obvious.

She licks her lips, cleaning a bit of drool. Breathily, Saerom says, "Fuck. Should I just make you cum like this? With my fingers? It’s only fair. It’s only been me and my fingers all this time."

As much as you want to fuck her every hole open, you can’t deny that the prospect of being brought to the brim with her deft touch alone is tempting. "I said I’m sorry."

"Maybe if you say sorry enough, we can fuck." Saerom puts one hand around your cock and she’s barely doing anything, a lazy twist here, a half tug there.

"Sorry," you say, your upper teeth latching on to your lower lip. "Seriously. I miss you. I should’ve at least tried a little harder."

"Oh, we’re getting sappy now?" Saerom adds another hand—one isn’t enough to wrap fully her fingers around you—though it’s still awfully insignificant motions, sending erratic sparks throughout your body.

You shiver, hiss, and tense up. "Sorry. Please."

"Fffuck, I like the sound of that. the way your voice catches in your throat." She reaches down for your balls, jumpy at the faint graze of a nail. "What if I just milk out everything? I know how much you can cum. That would be so hot. When was the last time you came? Were you thinking about me?"

A week ago, and yes. Of course. You don’t want to admit those, and neither will you admit that a whine is coming out of you, yet even if you were silent, your hips are bucking on their own as you fuck yourself into Saerom’s hand.

Saerom says, "Oooh, are you—"

"I can’t take it anymore." You pull her up then push her back down onto the mattress, then you’re on top of her. You support yourself above Saerom with one arm and look at her carefully. Her face is a masterpiece, her body the work of a master craftsman. At your obvious overflowing lust, she looks to the side, bringing her wrist up to her mouth in a gesture of embarrassment you’ve never seen from Saerom.

Saerom’s reactions renew your confidence as if time never happened, so doubt’s seed could not have grown how it did, and you carry a sure smirk inspired by the cockiness once found on stage. You’re reminded that despite your indecision everywhere else—why the two of you never progressed past mere acquaintances—you were a man of action in the bedroom. That’s what Saerom wanted out of you. Saerom being shy might be an act, might be sincere, but it works either way. With this new upper hand, you grab Saerom’s wrist to unblock her face, too pretty to be shy about.

"We’ve done this plenty of times," you say, pinning Saerom’s arm to the bed.

She turns her head toward you but she can’t make eye contact. "It’s been a while."

"You're right. It has been long." You go in for a kiss, and she closes her eyes; however, you dodge her face.

"Fuck you." Saerom hits your chest and pouting. Then, her lips transform to a different contortion when you go straight for the neck. "Hnn, not too much. Remember last time you left hickeys on me? My makeup artist wouldn’t stop teasing me about it."

"Maybe I should mark you enough that makeup won’t be enough," you say, and her eyes go wide. "I’m kidding. Just a little payback for teasing me with your hands." 

So instead, you aspire to leave your small marks on the other parts of the body. Where no one else but you will see. First, a softer kiss on the end of her collarbone right under her neck. With the floral notes of her shampoo mixed with the fainter sweetness of her body wash on her soft skin, your nose is tempted as you kiss along the rest of her collarbone up to her shoulder; from there, you’re led down to her armpit.

"Your body is perfect, Saerom." 

She’s already ticklish from the playful kisses of her armpit and her ribs, but something about that crook under her arm compels you to lick—it’s the scent of her body wash once again, as well as a hint of vanilla, possibly from deodorant. Saerom is also starting to sweat, lending a barely noticeable musk and salty taste, and that only fuels your tongue further.

"Stooop, nh, nuh, no, why do you keep licking there? It’s dirty," Saerom says, squirming and laughing. This high-pitched tone is unfamiliar, easier to imagine coming from one of the maknaes such as Jiheon or Nagyung instead.

"It’s not." You’ve slathered her armpit in saliva by now. "Kisses aren’t enough. Every part of you deserves to be worshiped. What if I worshiped your whole body with my tongue? Gave you a tongue bath?"

Saerom can’t look at you anymore, yet she can’t stop smiling. "Wh-whatever you say."

You soon leave her armpit to fulfill your promise. You’re leaving a light trail of saliva down her arm, you suck each of her fingers, the knuckles, the interdigital folds, leaving no stone unturned. Returning up to Saerom's shoulder, you realize your folly of asymmetry, having only licked and kissed the right side of her upper body. You swipe your tongue across her neck.

"I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop thinking about your neck or your shoulder or your collarbones. Should I take my cock out right now and jerk off onto them?"

She bites her lips, and her thighs rub together.

"Just imagine your neck and shoulders all drenched with cum. Dripping down to your tits. I swear I could leave a whole river of thick white semen down your cleavage, make a mess of your tits just as collateral damage," you say as you finish your job of licking up Saerom’s left arm, shoulder, armpit.

With your rising initiative, Saerom’s hands can’t lie inactive by her sides. She first adds to the rubbing of her thighs with her hands—not enough—reaches between her legs—not enough. You know this, have seen this, enough to understand she’ll be on a tortuous brim for as long as you’re not inside her. And so be it, her decision to make, because you’re happy to let her dance on that dizzying outskirt as you pull her top down to her midriff and kiss and lick her breasts. Going in a circle around each one, you find yourself lingering much longer here, again covering her skin with saliva as you sense every goosebump with your tongue. Here, on her sizable tits, you’ll leave the marks that she’ll think about when she’s on stage. Under whatever stage outfit she’s wearing will lay your claim, your worship, and no one else will know but you and Saerom. Sweet secrets, another unspoken language.

The noises that come out of Saerom when you suck on her nipples aren’t speech but they’re too loud to count as unspoken. Your tongue, lips, teeth, and every part of your mouth partake in playing with the nubs as they harden but before long, you pull the top back up. You’re carefully slow because you want to see her breasts squish against the deep neckline of the clothing before it’s hidden.

Slow breaths and raised brow, Saerom glances at you with your sudden intermission.

You tell her frankly, "It’s a cute top, and I want to watch how your tits jiggle when you ride me."

Her quiet, acknowledging "mm" becomes a longer hum when you move downward. You take time leaving a kiss on each rib before worshiping her perfect abs with your tongue. Though you can feel Saerom writhing under you, you’ve been too focused on your task, so you look up to see her reaction. However, as you tongue at her belly button, she doesn’t look down at you in return; instead, Saerom is arching back and looking straight up at the ceiling. Her hands flatten on the bed, right by her head, elbows up. Every muscle is stretching, tensed.

"I didn’t think you’d like this as much as you do."

At your words, Saerom finally looks at you, her eyes unfocused, and she only nods, lips tight.

When you’re done with the upper half of her body, you decide to multitask. If she could form words, she’d be begging for you to move up instead of down from her thighs, but you’re also removing her skirt while you move down to her feet. After you unbutton and throw the skirt off to the side, you give her toes the same treatment as her hands. A thorough tongue washes each ridge, each sole, until her body is tongue-bathed top to bottom as promised.

All except for one part. Looking at the dark spot on her blue panties, it’s safe to say your mouth has plenty of cleaning left. You don’t mind doubling back with your trail of kisses up her leg, especially since it earns more cute strained noises from Saerom’s lips, and then it’s a third and final path down her legs.

"Saerom, watch."

She mouths "fuck" as you bite the waistband of her panties and gingerly pull.

From her waist to her knees, the panty-pulling with your teeth was careful and teasing. You want to say you kept your eye contact the whole way through like a suave playboy, but a glint in the corner of your vision steals your attention. Saerom is immersed in the whole range of light’s temperature, the cool ambiance of the moon, the dim yellow of her small lamp, yet it seems all of light has collected onto her dewy slit. The thought of tasting her nectar hurries you. You stop using your teeth, your now feral hands damn near tearing them off from her ankles.

"Woah, careful with—" 

Then Saerom’s mouth seals when you seal your mouth around Saerom’s pussy without hesitation. This feels right, home, the past in the present, between Saerom’s thighs with your face right at her crotch. You don’t feel a drop of shame because there’s too much dripping already. Two dark pink wavy folds—you set your thumb on one, index finger on the other to hold them in place. The destination of your voyage of kisses and licks, you give plenty of passes of your tongue to the swelling nub of her clit, passes of your lips to her lips. Are you drooling? Or is that Saerom’s boundless juices? Either way, they mix in your mouth, the salty flavors, the addicting musk, and the slightest metallic tinge.

"Fuck, that’s delicious," you say while you gauge her response. You didn’t notice until now that Saerom has two hands in your hair, or that she’s pulling and pushing you to return to your station. You delay a moment to tell her: "Am I remembering wrong? I’ve never seen you this wet."

Saerom first works through her ragged breaths before she can talk. "Yeah, agh, I haven’t cum in a couple of months. You’d be surprised. How busy I’ve been. And, I guess, I was hoping, this exact thing would happen."

"You know you could’ve called too, right? DM’ed me, whatever." You’re surprised you had the wherewithal to bring it up while Saerom’s slick is on your chin and lips.

Saerom whispers, "I’m sorry." Then she closes her mouth. Her grip on your hair loosens. 

Of course, it’s too late for regrets and apologies now. You revisit your favorite place to taste in the world—fuck a restaurant, fuck a bar, everything you need to taste and drink is right here. And quickly, there’s no way Saerom can keep her mouth closed or her hands off your hair with all the oral pleasure you give.

"So, so good, good, ahh, fuck." Saerom’s tongue can’t stay in her mouth, dangling casually as her jaw opens wider in bliss.

As your right hand spreads her folds again, your lips suction and your tongue laps at the top of her cunt, servicing her clit, as well as below, digging deeper at the source of all the wetness. You lick exhaustively, collect every drop you can—you can't. Too much leaking fluid to avoid making a mess of her sheets.

"Fuck, fuck, goddammit, fuck."

Though your free left hand is mindlessly on your cock, stroking, there’s no actual need to touch yourself. You could be as hard as steel as long as you’re eating Saerom out. You heighten Saerom's stimulation, sinking your fingers into her thighs, kneading and massaging—earn a few giggle-infused moans—then you move to where your face is being turned into a canvas, a girl-cum rag. There, you add a finger, then two into her slit. Now your mouth and digits are working in tandem, pumping in and out, exploring her pussy, relearning, to turn Saerom’s brain into mush.

You could’ve been doing this for two minutes or two days, fuck the clock, fuck worrying about time and its immaterial decay on the world. It’s only when you hear Saerom’s profanities die down that you slow down too.

She works up the ability to talk again: "S-stop. I love how you eat me, but I need to ride you. Now."

One last kiss on her pussy lips. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

In honesty, you were also thinking about how your jaw is tired or how your neck is strained, but those would’ve been fine sacrifices to make for Saerom. If you needed to stay there an hour to make her cum three times, you would’ve done it—maybe that would’ve made up for a lost week? So just over two straight days to make up for a whole year? No matter.

Saerom nudges at your shoulder and gestures for you to get up. It takes a while for you to reorient yourself—right, she’s just lying in her bed as if it were any other night, except you’re in between her legs. She sits up and scooches over so that you can replace her reclined position. Listening to Saerom recollect her breathing and watching her stare at your erection pointed straight at the ceiling, you realize she’s also reorienting herself. Don’t give her time: you grab Saerom’s hand and she falls right on top of you, hands at your sides. A mirror of your stances moments ago. She’s surprised at first, her mouth in a circle, and then her smile grows. This smile deserves awards, and more light, if only you had a floodlight on your face. All you get in this room is a dim ambiance, but you’ll take every photon you can get. 

Traveling in time, you think about when you and Saerom fucked the first time. Five years ago, you were both rookie idols without the luxury of a bed. Far bolder back then, Saerom was riding your cock in the dark corner of an empty sound stage, and your hands and back were meeting the cold hard floor, the two of you risking your careers for a spontaneous fuck.

Now the two of you are in different places in your life, yet you end up in the same place regardless. 

Guess it’s 9:34:40—you can’t actually look at the clock above and behind your head as you lay in bed, and Saerom’s hair is in your face.

A breath, and then you’re overwhelmed by Saerom, her tongue in your mouth, her hand on your cock. You’re happy to lose control at this moment. For the rushing thrill of the idea of this beautiful idol fucking you, or for the physical manifestation of this desire, her pussy embracing your cockhead in the first penetration and the weight of her body and her kiss all crashing into your heart, you gladly sacrifice this exact minute for the compressed eternity to compress further, too much to contain, and it uncollapses—what was a single point containing all the beauty and warmth in your head becomes a cascading chasm, a pointillistic cloud, each little dot a snapshot of all the sensations. Beyond thrust for thrust, your thoughts flash ripple by ripple.

Saerom’s cunt slowly slides down as she pushes against the girth of your cock. Your hands are trying to compete for tightness of grip on her asscheeks, but they’ll never compare to the closeness with which her labia grasps around your cock. The tangy taste of her juices lingers on your tongue, mixes with her mouth's taste when you kiss—mostly the saltiness of saliva at this point, though you’ll drink up every last drop. You smell sweat and the trace of sex against the sweet scents of her skin and her hair. Listen to the slow squelch of her soaked hole because for once you’re both silenced by this kiss, deeper than before; open your eyes, watch Saerom’s need in action, and take in that every stimulated sense is but a small part of the single motion of Saerom lowering her ass into your crotch.

It was never that deep was it? It was just sex, just a basic carnal act. There was longing, there was the low light of the room, there was a closeness you forgot, and none of it mattered. For all this thinking, there is no real thought or purpose. There’s nothing so profound about it except for how much happens all at once, and in that inundation of self, the simple profane is newly profound. Balls slap against her ass. It is that deep.

Guess it’s 9:34:45, and it doesn’t matter what the time really is for the rhetoric either. The seconds have been stretched like Saerom’s pussy around your dick. The dots have danced.

She takes in the feeling of your length all the way inside of her, her eyes wide when she looks at you as you stop making out. You have to resist the urge to spank her ass, to start pounding up, upside-down jackhammer, so your hands slide up to her waist holding her.

Saerom feels her midriff, and you notice the slightest bulge of your cock against the slimness; she rubs it. "Fuck. I miss this. I miss you."

Somehow you find it in yourself to snark: "We’re getting sappy now? While I’m this deep in you?"

She growls quietly and holds your jaw. "Shut up." And if her words weren’t enough, she’s back at it with her tongue finding residence in your mouth. 

Saerom then pulls away from Earth’s gravity, lifting her ass. It isn't nearly as slow as the insertion, but it's just as serene a sensation. All the pulling and pushing, it’s everything you remember with Saerom—it’s more. Riding your dick becomes effortless for Saerom, gravity barely a nuisance as her bouncing hastens. Second nature returning in seconds.

You’re becoming less of an active agent, more of a recipient of pleasure, barely holding on by Saerom’s waist. While you certainly feel like you're pounding her pussy, she’s the one putting in all the work. You can imagine it’s tiring for Saerom, but if it’s half as good as it feels for you, then any amount of exhaustion doesn’t matter.

Her unbridled passion eventually subsides though, replacing the forceful slams of her butt with slower and more conscious motions. Though she still has her lips on yours, it’s a lazy placement. Not as much of a kiss. You'll take it. Saerom also isn't bothering to support herself with her arms by your sides, opting to lay on your chest instead. Your cock goes in, tick, tick, tick, out, tock, tock, tock. Many beats, many seconds, and many breaths between each plunge. Then, even the slick sliding of Saerom’s cunt on your cock gives way to more of a grinding motion. She twists her hips, bringing her ass around in erratic ellipses. A whole new host of euphoric sensations on your cock. You’re reacquainting with her tender inner muscles, clenching on your shaft. Your fingers around her midriff press into her skin, your eyes roll back, and you have to tense your jaw.

A grinding halt. 

Saerom is inert, warming your cock. Her head is on your shoulder, mouth on your neck (while not actively suctioning, the sensation of her plump lips sends shivers throughout your body regardless). She stirs, straightening her back again. There’s no way you want to let go of her waist, want to have her stop kissing you, want to remove the weight of her tits and whole body on top of yours—Saerom’s curves are ergonomic with how well they fit on you—however, she sits up, her knees on each side of your waist, back straight. Your dick is a stanchion, its tip poking at her entrance, and you don’t mind trading the feeling for the image.

A grinding start.

Instead of only feeling the twisting and the back-and-forth movements of her hips, now you get to watch it, doubling the thrill. Saerom’s eyes are filled with lust and she’s biting a finger, her other hand on your shoulder. Everything about Saerom hypnotizes you, and you can’t keep your hands idle. You return to sinking your fingers into the mass of her ass, then you’re exploring her curves again in this new context.

There's a large mirror leaning against the wall across from you, right in position to show off Saerom's backside. This is the first time this year and this night that you've got a good view of her bare butt. Perfectly round (you'll redefine circles to be second place if you have to) and ample enough for your digit to make a significant crease. Her ass is a famed masterwork, lusted over by many but not seen in true pure form except by the incomparably fortunate you.

Upon your renewed vigor and thirst, Saerom restarts her ride, the chaotic grinding becoming a focused lifting and dropping of her whole self. She has to hoist her knees up to squat on your cock. The image is accompanied by sounds, making the trade worthwhile. The flesh of her ass slapping and slamming against your crotch echoes her bedroom, some slick noises in there too. Her hands clench into fists by her side as she savors the stretch of her pussy.

This brings you back to the last time you fucked: a year ago, in a love hotel, a careless drunk hook-up. Saerom rode you cowgirl expertly then, and it seems she’s only gotten better now. You’d think the self-admitted lack of practice would show—but once more, she proves that time hasn’t passed between this year and last.

While Saerom seats herself into your perfectly plumb penis repeatedly in her cowgirl ride, not missing a beat or bounce, you get exactly as you wish: the hypnotizing view of Saerom's tits jiggling in the confines of her blue tube top. You get the most beautiful demonstration of physics with each bounce of her breasts. Then you take physics itself into your own hands, grabbing each breast and squeezing over the fluffy fabric. At your rough fondling, Saerom lets out some higher-pitched whimpers in between her constant pleasured groan. She rides down into your cock harder, and you let go to see how wildly her breasts can bounce. Saerom's mouth is open in bliss; yours is more in awe, her breasts bouncing up and down as if wanting to be freed of the top themselves. You'd be inclined to agree.

Thus, with a grunt that gets Saerom's attention, she stops bouncing and lets your dick rest guts-deep inside of her. She shudders. You sit up, a burn in your abs that you cast aside. Saerom raises her arms and you pull upward, watching her boobs squish, then pop out from under the tube top. You're tempted to re-clothe her just to see that again (squish, pop, boing, immature sounds accompanying the sight in your head). However, with the article of clothing already around her elbows, you might as well finish the job. No more hesitation, you toss the blue top right into her laundry basket (nice shot).

Saerom pushes your chest, returning you to your recumbence. You don't mind her forcefulness—in fact, you cherish whenever Saerom handles you roughly. You know exactly what that leads to. She lifts her entire body up, unsheathing your glistening cock, then drives herself back down. This first bounce is deliberate. She's watching your reaction, no doubt giving you a satisfied smile because of your weak groan or your face twisting with pleasure before she restarts her ardent riding.

Yet again, all these places for your eyes to land upon—her thighs jiggling as she springs up and down, your cock appearing and disappearing inside Saerom, the thin sheen of sweat covering the entirety of her flawless skin—yet there was only ever one possibility after flashing through those equally addicting sights. You're fixated on Saerom's soft tits, unrestrained by the shackles of clothing. They freely ripple, rise, fall, rise again, her nipples drawing some invisible erratic path in the air like the chaos of a double pendulum. There is no predicting the movements, but you're staring as if you're trying your damnedest, knowing that you'll fail. Happy that you'll fail.

"What do you like better, hmm? Watching my tits bounce with or without clothes?"

What an intriguing question. (You're jealous of her ability to form cogent thoughts in this situation.) You're not sure. Obviously, seeing her tits completely exposed, her brown nipples in plain view is a sight you never want to relinquish. However, the bounce of her tits within the tube top is oddly compelling. It's the sort of view you could get equally as an audience member or as an average fan replaying the same three seconds of a fancam—you get the privilege of getting to see this Saerom from a whole new angle.

Not even the most advanced camera can capture the full extent of your senses being. The perfect POV video of Saerom riding cowgirl will never convey the heat of Saerom's core, the constant clamping of her cunt around your cock.

But then, if you had a camera and had to hold it right now, you'd have to let go here in confusion.

Saerom leans forward and places her hand palm down on the bed by your sides.

You're surprised at her action and, at her hitherto wordlessness, you're also surprised at her saying "I'm going to ride you as hard as fucking possible."

What an intriguing declaration. Wasn't she already doing that?

She lifts her ass and does not lie and rides you as hard as fucking possible. Never doubt her. You knew intensity came in the form of horny Saerom, didn't know it could lift your soul past the stratified layers of atmosphere above this very home, where jet streams blew past and didn't compare to her speed or didn't compare to the air knocked out of your lungs.

Wanting to hold back from cumming, you slow down—well, you want to slow down, but it's not really up to you, judging by Saerom staring off into space with a slack jaw, by the insistent motion of her hips. Maybe she'll ride your cock until you both die or neither of you may die and she'll be fucking you cowgirl until heat death? She's in a trance, cock-drunk, lust clouding her brain, and you have the same fog, though the fog is also pulsations that you want to delay. Now a dynamic duo, heat and pressure cook inside of you, and you could unload and breed and fill Saerom any second now. You have to physically hold her from fucking into your cock.

It isn't until your fingers grip hard—you might even be leaving traces of nail marks—that Saerom is pulled out of her rhythm, panting. She whines and pouts and after brushing her long hair aside, looks at you with an empty-headed expression. "Wh-what?"

You try your best to maintain composure, but really your whole body is dedicated to clenching every muscle so that you don't orgasm on the spot, despite her now sitting still. "Reverse cowgirl," you say, keeping up your false resolve.

Saerom nods mindlessly, raising her ass. It's more honest of her, commendable, to eschew the pretense that she had anything in her mind. She gets into position for reverse cowgirl, kneeling with her legs hooked under yours, her ass placed right in your lap. Instead of a reflection a few meters away through the mirror in her prior cowgirl stance, now you get a perfect close-up. Sweat, pores, goosebumps, all that texture in the dim lighting of her bedroom. More than ever, you want a spotlight—having no such device, you aspire to paint bright red with your hand—smack, a loud one, like a whip on her right cheek, and at once you get the vividness you want.

She gasps and looks back, the vixen smugly grinning as if to say "one more".

It's too easy to fall in, to give her what you want, and her left cheek recoils nicely in the same way. It's tempting to keep going, to keep submitting to the little diversion that makes this moment and night last forever. But if the shape of her ass is tempting, her tight asshole is a drug to an addict, and you've unknowingly abstained for far too long. Right now, do it, take your cock, align it with the entrance, and thrust into her. You want to… but you also know better than that.

Besides, Saerom takes the matter into her own hands—hand, as she reaches back to hold your cock. She softly places your shaft between her supple cheeks and after a quick wiggle of her hips to situate herself, she starts sliding her ass up and down your length. This buttjob alone is enough to make your balls twitch, to make you jumpy at the prospect of cumming early once again.

Her rhetorical words don't help—"You know how many times I’ve thought about you and fucked myself in front of this mirror?"—because now, you're picturing it, and the images overlap in your mind. In the mirror and in your imagination alike, her deft fingers are teasing herself, crawling between her legs, and rubbing her clit. In this imaginary world, the juices from her cunt are being wasted on the floor or on the sheets or on a towel if she were so poised; in the real world, there is no waste, as this nectar finds its way onto your cock, whether it be dripping right into you or by her moist hands reaching back to keep your shaft in place.

The undulation of Saerom's hips is much gentler than her previous ride—she must have recognized why you wanted her to stop in the first place. You'll happily take the sparks of pleasure that this lazy friction gives you, your cock neatly nestled in the crack of her backside.

"I can even show you later," Saerom says.

"Show me what?" you ask.

"Ahh, don't worry about it." Once more, she grabs your cock behind her, but this time she's twisting her whole upper body to look at you. There are so many targets for your inevitable cumshot: her arched back has the perfect valley for your seed to run down, toned muscles to paint white; the thought of cum streaking down her tits could make you bust on the spot; and sullying Saerom's alluring face is naturally a favorite pastime of yours, especially making her sharp jawline drip with cum as you feed your load right onto her lips, or maybe you should make a mess of her bangs.

Anyway, what were you supposed to be worrying about? Whatever it was, it wouldn't matter compared to Saerom aligning your cockhead at her entrance, plunging your whole length at once, at twice, at thrice, and then it's a blur of bliss.

You want to say it's the same as a few minutes ago—after all, what's the difference except turning around—but her velvety walls surrounding your cock feel completely novel to the regular cowgirl position. Your shaft is pointed at an angle different enough to give you whole new sensations of pleasure, and if not for the momentary reprieve of the teasing buttjob, you'd climax in the first few thrusts. That doesn't include the whole new visual stimulation of her perfectly perky ass lifting and dropping in rhythm, its fleshy weight ricocheting with each downward collision.

Again, you feel inert, more like a toy being used than a person having sex. In a way, it's fine, natural even with Saerom's eagerness. There's only so much touching and fondling you can do until it seems a waste of energy—you don't need to do anything to keep Saerom bouncing on your cock as long as it's hard. And for your part, you're getting sweat and moans and jolts of pleasure extracted out of you without any effort. However, naturally, you want more participation, to feel more involved.

Therefore, your first course of action is to sit up, breaking Saerom's rhythm, and she looks back at you, her breaths heavy and sporadic. It reminds of you the classic ending fairy, her chest rising and falling, but you get to watch her breasts in their full bareness moving with each exhalation. Then, you grab her with two hands by the waist—by now, a gesture you've repeated a hundred times, and thus you know exactly where to put your fingers to have her held still, like her hips are handles. Keeping up this tight grasp and never fully unsheathing your cock, you reposition the two of you until you're both kneeling, with you behind Saerom.

Her back rests against your chest, and her long hair is right in your face. You take a moment to smell Saerom. Maybe her shampoo is lavender or rose—you're a Flover, not a florist—but for certain, you haven’t smelled it before. Then, you brush her hair with your fingers, all disheveled by the continuous bouncing and riding.

You take a nibble of her ear, and you can see the whites of Saerom's eyes for a moment in the mirror, your face next to hers. "My turn," you whisper into her ear.

Saerom gulps, barely maintaining eye contact in the mirror.

This position, inspired by JAV, is perfect for your goal: repay Saerom's passion by getting the leverage to piston into her pussy as hard and fast as possible. It starts by taking her arms, hanging listlessly at her sides, and pulling them behind her back.

Caress her face one last time—call it the moment's final tranquility. The silence save for the air passing your lips. The darkness save for glimmers of light, the night in the window.

Your hips snap into place, back and forth, cock going in and out, rhythm accelerating all at once, drag racing. You're already at your top speed, your peak strength, fucking your whole soul into Saerom. Clap, clap, clap, the audience and the performers on the stage of the bed are the same. The uproarious applause cannot be conceited because neither of you has your hands free.

Saerom yelps and moans, and you can't tell which is wider between her mouth and her eyes. The observational task through the mirror becomes harder as her hair swings wildly, long dark strands haphazardly strewn about her face, plus you get distracted by her breasts swinging even more wildly.

At least you now have an answer to Saerom’s previous open question.

Each of your words is punctuated by one or two or three thrusts (actual punctuation omitted for readability): "Can’t believe I haven’t fucked your tits yet or your throat or your tight little—" Well, these plunges are powerful enough—CLAP, CLAP—to merit the interruption, as it completely breaks the flow of what you were saying "—asshole. Fuck!"

Asshole, fuck—you want nothing more than to do that Saerom right now, temptations and jitters and dry throat as you look down and see that vulgar entrance, and it completely breaks the flow, slows down your thus-far dogged pace.

Her hands are shaking so you let her wrists go, and you expect her to fall forward (you’re looking forward to that, aren’t you? Saerom face down ass up, a lucid dream’s image); instead, her limbs limp at her sides, and she leans into your chest, returning the warmth and sweatiness and softness of her back—firmness of her lats and shoulder blades. 

She takes a deep breath. You nuzzle your chin onto her neck, and Saerom giggles—then she’s silenced when you wrap your arms around her: one arm around her tits, compressing them while you toy with a nipple in your hand, with the other arm around her neck in a stranglehold. You aren't aiming to asphyxiate Saerom (the force of your cock can make her as light-headed as you want her) but rather, to have her whole body in your complete control, manhandling her like a plastic sex doll.

It’s fair play to how she rode you mere moments ago (or maybe it’s been much longer; the clock might tick above you, but its count is worthless in this situation). You didn't need words to know how much she enjoyed this push and pull. You could hear it, see it, every sense attuned to your mutual pleasure. You’re not just fucking Saerom’s plush cunt. You’re pinching and rolling her nipples. You’re sucking on the back of her neck.

Emboldened by the few weak moans that escape Saerom, you’re back to that ardent rhythm, though long and deep strokes of your cock are replaced with quicker and shallower drives. Two people can’t get any closer than this. Your dick is repeatedly entrenched in Saerom’s cunt while the rest of Saerom’s body is held tight in your embrace. Close but there’s distance: she can’t look at you, her pupils rolling up.

This hold becomes tedious, even with Saerom having the defined abs to give her core strength for days. What would be a relaxed position—the two of you kneeling, Saerom in your lap—becomes tiring when it involves the exercise routine of sex. You take all the pillows from behind you, place them in front of her knees, then push her down with a hand on her back with the pile of pillows for support. You're positioned perfectly so that her face is at the edge of the bed, more importantly, visible to the large mirror opposite to the bed.

Look at yourself. You're exhausted, crease lines on your face, sweat on your brow.

Saerom's exhaustion is more beautiful—if not beautiful, compelling (it is beautiful, don’t philosophize now). It makes you want to pump harder, to find out if you can drain her of her stamina first. A tall task, you've seen the woman's more intense workout sessions too, experienced it first-hand in your past marathon weekends of fucking.

Hissing, you carefully extract from Saerom, then smack her reddened sore buttcheeks with your shaft. Her fucked cunt gets some cock-slaps too, a tactical delay that earns a few cute yelps from Saerom. If you’re going to cum, you’ve decided it’ll be here, with Saerom face down, bent over pillows, her ass up for you to squeeze, watch jiggle, and plunge into. Doesn’t mean you’ll cream her cunt in one more stroke. Savor this as long as you can. 

One more hit of her pussy lips with your dick. A dripping string of her juice flicks off.

A fistful of hair, you pull while you begin slamming your hips forward. You shove your cock inside, again and again, a slow rhythm, no rhyme, like there's a point you're trying to make by fucking Saerom into the bed. If there had to be a point, it’s that your dreams materialized too easily because even your lucid dreams didn’t go this well. And further, though not much further, following this logic, you fuck Saerom’s pussy with thoughts of another hole. An even tighter hole, somehow. Too tight. Visions of Saerom’s anal grip have your fingers digging into Saerom’s back, have you pushing too hard for this denouement. You have to be measured about your penetration, needing to pull her into you. If nothing else, ensuring she doesn't slump past the edge of the bed. Saerom is the pile of pillows underneath her, soft and lifeless and you wouldn’t mind spending all day in her.

Burying and unburying yourself into Saerom, your dick is soaked in slick and raw, sore. All this pounding is getting to you. A heady mix of hormones and heat. You’ve done your job. Saerom can barely keep her eyelids up, her every breath heavy and slow. She doesn’t even move.

This is your final ramp-up, the pace almost numbing, and then the internal throbs come out of nowhere—you can’t delay your end much longer. These past few minutes have been completely devoted to your stimulation, so it was only a matter of time. You push your knees down into the mattress now, having to hold onto yourself as much as Saerom. (What part of self you’re holding onto is a question you won’t or can’t answer.) feeling the familiar pulses of climax in two of your strokes, you're tempted to clamp down on her waist and keep your cock buried inside.

But then, you look at her ass. The roundness is so perfect and, like with her face, the only thing worth doing to perfection is to flaw it.

Here begins the end of all journeys.

Here, in this beautiful moment, you understand, the dots, tiny prickles of pleasure were grains of sand. They return in an overbearing way. Your mind is an infinite beach, where time stands still and then gives way to waves and the tangy orange sunset. This is sweet and fruitful perfection, the orgasm temporary but more real than any existence can claim. The shape of Saerom’s body, the sandcastles, the nostalgic memories, you’re damn near tears at the thought, but this is a cry of bliss as you moan and let everything out.

A long first short of semen lands on her back, creamy white streaking down the dips. With Saerom bent over, the cum runs down toward the back of her neck in the central valley of her spine. You're tempted to keep unloading there. But, after seeing her ass rise and fall, you then aim for her buttcheeks, giving each one an equal amount of love, mixing sweat with seed. You watch them clench as Saerom feels the warm sticky load, watch them ripple as heavy breaths make her whole body lurch back and forth. How hypnotic the pendulum. You cum more ropes than you expected, absolutely drenching her backside. You only know that Saerom is awake because she brings her hand to her neck, where your semen collects, then licks her hand to taste.

The two of you catch your breath. You want to sit against the back of the bed, your body slack and lacking energy, but you take the initiative to grab a big handful of tissues and clean the mess you've made on Saerom's backside.

Eventually, you and Saerom lie on the bed. She holds your hand. You look at her and let quiet wash over you both for a while.

To break the silence, you ask, "You okay?"

The end of the journey is only the start of a new one. Cyclic. Possibly infinite. Saerom’s answer to your question is a question: "Do you want to fuck my ass?"

You pause. Definitely infinite, judging by time's nonmovement. The answer is obvious, your "yes" breathless and nearly the neediest you've found yourself.

"I’m gonna shower," she says. "Also, I’ll need you to get hard for me again." 

"I’ll help you clean up then." After all, what could re-spark your erection more than soaping Saerom down, watching water drip down her curves? But when you get up, she places a hand on your shoulder. 

"I have a different idea." Saerom grabs her phone, opens up photos, and goes to the hidden album.

Your jaw drops while she smiles, stands, and heads to the bathroom.

Top left of the screen, 10:04, but never mind the time. You’re not sure where to begin, so you open the latest. A simple selfie in her bathroom with naught but a towel around her waist, the steam of a hot shower in the air. You didn’t think a selfie could be art, and then you see her wet hair and the droplets of water making trails down her tits, and you’d proudly have a print of that hanging in your living room.

Careful, don’t go crazy stroking yourself—wait, when did you even start doing that?—keep a casual pace of your hand up and down your shaft.

Spoiled for choice, you tap the gallery at random and find a video of Saerom on her bedroom floor. Her clear suction dildo is attached to some large book, weighing it down. Clever. (Note that the proxy cock is about the same size and shape as your real one.) She aligns its silicone tip, looks at the camera, wasn’t lying—your name’s but a whisper as she sinks down into the toy. Then she starts riding, and you understand her practice was studious. It’s like a dance perfected, how she makes her body move on her knees, tits bouncing, eyes unwavering. The same way she was riding your cock earlier. So that’s where she got the practice.

There are plenty more racy images, particularly artful ones of her nude silhouette as a shadow against her wall and less than artful pictures of fingers spreading her perfect pussy lips. Other short videos arouse you equally: a 2-second video of Saerom pulling her jeans down to her thighs, enough to show off the squish of her butt cheeks; an 8-second video of Saerom taking off her shirt in a public toilet to flaunt her bralessness to a mirror before running to a stall at the sound of the door opening; and an hour-long video of a cheerful Saerom dancing to various songs, nude in her living room. Actually, that video was only 7 minutes long. Felt like an hour though.

The sound of water flowing from the bathroom stops. Saerom should be coming out soon. You didn’t realize how tightly you were gripping your shaft.

It’s unbelievable the sheer number of pictures and videos there were in the phone’s gallery. Had to be at least one for every day since you last met her. It’d be difficult to quantify which was your favorite, and which one you would masturbate to the most.

However, the answer was clear. The hottest video, or set of videos, was yet another dildo. This one isn’t as girthy as the clear suction dildo, as she holds it in her hand. Two key differences. First, this pink phallus had little marks on it. Each subsequent video had another mark, a centimeter deeper. In some of the videos, she’d be fully nude while in other videos, she’d have a hoodie or oversized shirt on, but nothing else, leaving her bottomless. Sometimes it’d be daytime, birds chirping, sun shining into the room, and other times, it was at night, dimly lit as the room is now. Second, and more importantly, is that every video had the same format: she sat comfortably in her bed, legs spread, then she took lube, coated her fingers (initially one, but then it became two, three), and slid them in her ass—the fingers were only the start though; afterward, she kept her anal entrance relaxed as she spread lube onto the pink dildo, then slid the toy inside herself at an extremely gentle pace.

She had already been able to take your dick in her ass, though it wasn’t the most pleasant experience back then. You enjoyed it visually, but seeing the strain and discomfort on Saerom put you off of it (not to mention the wrenching tightness for you, barely inserting a third of your length). You thought you’d have to save the anal experience for another day. Didn't think it'd be today. Plus, the mere concept of progress here, the enjoyment she’s having, is somehow making you harder than ever, as if you didn’t just cum five minutes ago.

You can even find where Saerom hit a plateau in the middle of the collection of anal training videos. She had a pout on her face and rolled her eyes when she couldn’t push the pink dildo deeper inside her asshole. In the next video, she tried the same length but with a bullet vibrator on her clit—even used tape to hold it. Not only did it help, to get the toy deeper inside, but she also squirted all over her phone camera.

The door opens, greeting Saerom to the sound of her moans from her phone until you quickly pause it in surprise. Nothing on but a towel. Picturesque. In her hand, a bottle of lube.

"Oh, hey. I remember buying that," you say, pointing to the bottle. "Did it expire?"

"I didn’t think about that." Saerom examines the bottle. "January 2024. Should be fine."

She stands in front of you, drops her towel, and you thoroughly examine her figure. The hourglass curves, you want to make her toss and turn, forget the time. The sole sure sign of the time's passage is that night falls differently, moonlight mixing with the small lamp—now on the ground, not sure when that got there—casting subtly new angles of shadows on Saerom. In all lights, she looks ethereal, contrasting her casual attitude. A light smile, she dusts off her bookshelf. A light step toward her desk, she readjusts a potted plant. Like she forgot you were here for a moment, a light giggle as she remembers your presence and takes her phone back. 

"I take it you liked what you saw?" Saerom declares, rhetorical.

Right, you should nod here. So nod. But you’re holding your breath too, nodding emptily. You’ve decided she doesn’t look ethereal; she is ethereal, immaterial, of another world. You can’t touch her even though you did, consequences of ethereality you can hardly endure. Endure you shall because you must. Her nude form is unmatched. Her ass is unmatched. Your hands on her ass were a ghostly dream.

Saerom walks around the room, cleaning more. You’d offer to help but you’re simply awestruck, your eyes like a hawk. She fixes the lamp, the pile of pillows, and the clothes laying around on the floor.

Returning your gaze, she eyes your erection. Saerom points, and you’re back in position, and she's back to the floor, lube still in hand.

You sit on the edge of her bed. Soft, springy, doesn’t make too much noise even when two people are testing the limits of its suspension—now you're sure of it. With the wet mess, hopefully, the sheets dry as you remember. Your feet are right on the ground, but there's something different this time. The tension and doubt of earlier are silent; if you had to take a stab at it, you've never seen this sort of raw hunger from Saerom as she's kneeling between your legs. Your cock twitches, free in the air, when she licks at it experimentally.

"You don’t have to do this. Your pics kept me hard as a rock." Look, a statement as dumb as not contacting Saerom.

You're fortunate that Saerom is set on getting your dick in her mouth. "Shut it," she says, "you know how much I love sucking this dick."

"Right… but remind me."

A smirk tugs at the corner of Saerom's lips, then a soft exhalation. The warm breath sends tingles through your cock to the rest of you. What is there in the rest of you? You can only wonder when Saerom starts to give the same licking worship to your cock as you did to her whole body, spending as much time bathing you in her saliva. Her tongue is soft, wet, and all over your shaft, and the smooches on your cockhead plant your feet down into the ground. Your fingers curl. Five into the air, five into her hair. Let her go. She has work to do.

Saerom, relinquishing her momentary trance, opens the lube bottle. She squeezes a dollop onto her hand, can barely match the amount of saliva that she’s already drooling. Saerom tries her best to go to work, to give you a blowjob while applying the lube at the same time. Her palm rubs the cool lubricant onto your shaft, fingertips work all the half-viscous fluid around your whole cock—makes sure plenty is under your tip (does that part even need to be lubricated like that, or is she just toying with you?)—then she uses her dextrous tongue to spread the lube further. Pulling back, Saerom seals her lips on your cockhead, cheeks hollowing as she sucks and uses both hands to stroke you up and down. She’s diligent, but all that lube ends up being washed away by the excess of spit from her eager mouth bobbing down into your length, impulsively taking you into the back of her mouth. A waste, though you’re going to buy new lube for her soon. She has work to do, and you’re not stopping her for now.

You can tell that taking you into her throat isn’t on purpose; however, Saerom is so captivated with sucking your cock that she ends up gagging a couple of times. You're worried at first, pulling your hips back, but Saerom looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout on your cock—as if to ask why you took away her favorite toy, and imagine a harrumph for theatrical measure. At the unexpected, unspoken brattiness, you raise your hands. If she wants saliva streaming down her chin to get your full length into her throat, so be it. So be it that she wants her eyes to water.

A question Saerom won’t answer, too busy: you've already given her what she wants, so why is she whining and humming on your cock like it isn’t enough? Then you realize she knows what she's doing, knows how the vibrations are getting from your cockhead to your real head. knows how the foamy slobber makes her lips feel extra soft and pillowy. Amen to all the fluids, holier than water can get.

Having eaten her out however many minutes ago, you empathize with how tiring oral service gets. When Saerom finally pulls back from your dick, she exercises her jaw, moves it side to side, and stretches it.

Fix the thick strands on her forehead, putting the bangs back in place. She might have just showered, yet you could easily have mistaken her damp locks for being wet with the mess she’s made in her blowjob.

Saerom wipes the excess of saliva and licks her palms, then grabs the lube. This time, she’s more careful. More handiwork spreading lube than mouthy work as she kisses and tongues your tip with greater restraint.

In such a sensitive state—your previous orgasm wasn’t that far in the past—even the faint grazes of Saerom’s tongue draw out involuntary moans from you, and your mouth is a tight contorting curve. Something of a smile, something of a frown. You manage to ask regardless, "How does it taste?"

"The lube? It’s a little sweet, but not the best flavor. Here." Saerom squeezes a drop onto her hand and offers her finger to you. 

You wrap your lips around her middle finger, and you forget you were supposed to be tasting something as you made eye contact with her. Saerom smirks back. Is it a fruity flavor? Maybe it’s flower yet again, to match her shampoo. Doesn’t matter. You keep her finger in your mouth, and she laughs when you give it a soft bite before she takes her hand away.

"I, for one, prefer the taste of this cock." Saerom licks in a circle. "It’s musky and sweaty and salty, and I love it. Especially when pre-cum comes out like this—" she tongues at your cock’s slit, and you shudder.

Pretend that time is unwavering, a force inerrant, yet your mind can do so much to trick you, to make the past/present/future all toys in the same room converge. Turns to dots, to visions. You could be sitting here as you are, a passive man for the rest of your life (for all you know, this night will be the rest of your life), or you could be making good on promises.

You have work to do. This is the unthinking reverie of a man possessed by visions of a single thing you’ve been waiting for, for a year, for a lifetime, for dreams eternal. Don’t call it a reverie. Your actions are not light. You pull Saerom up from her kneeling stance, a hint of unnecessary rabid strength. This force is used in place of words, forgoing language in a new way. Your grip on her hand says something. If only you could say what it is. And she never liked when you just stood there silent, but her mouth is open and her eyes are needy.

Her brows are raised when you shove, and her yelps are unsurprisingly filled with surprise when you bring her to her desk, unforgiving in how you lever her arm back, grab wrist, animal thoughts, smack, one, two, the orbs of her ass jiggle. You’re in a human place, a human still. Posthaste, clearing the haze in your head, you clear out the stationery from the middle of the desk. There’s the rest of her, perfect, yet it middles to the true perfection of her asshole. You lay your cock between her asscheeks, left hand cupping their heft.

Saerom needs something from you, but she’s so beautifully compromised. Her arm is bent back, her wrist tight in your grip. Her legs are straight, but you see the buckle in her knees—it’s taking active effort from Saerom to keep her ass lifted in the air for you. All the while, her face is right on the desk, and she twists her head to look back. She’s pleading with her eyes. Put it in, put it in. Why say it out loud when the soft whimpers tell you as much.

Despite all the primal force and exhibition, you’re no animal. As much as you want to dive straight in and impale your whole length at once, she needs to acclimate even with her diligent practice with toys. Besides, it gives you an excuse to admire her ass when you push your lube-covered cock’s tip against her tight sphincter. Leave it there, for a breath, for two. Deep breaths. Long breaths. Breaths that let you stare at Saerom’s ass until time ends because you’ll never tire at the shape outlining sublimity, the weight so perfect, the firmness of the glute muscles, the smooth and light skin marked red by your hand and beginning to bead with sweat, the crease into her equally ample thighs. Your tip is at the start of anally penetrating Saerom, and all you can think about are the two surrounding cushions. You will never tire of staring at Saerom's butt.

You do tire of having only your tip in the chokehold of Saerom’s tight entrance. So eventually, you push in, a glacial rate, a tectonic rate, eras, timescales for scientists. The minutes dilate like you’re pushing against a law of physics, a speed limit, even if your length is plunging into Saerom’s ass as slow as it can. New paradoxes, record it. The waves propagating throughout your body, at one inch, at two inches, three, four, five, etc, record them. The snug ring of her asshole is almost at the base of your shaft, yet there’s a complete saturation of bliss, record it. All this pleasure must be recorded rigorously in your mind as charts and tables flash by in an attempt to put numbers down to the innumerable.

Saerom’s back arches on this first penetration, her eyes rolling up into her head, where she isn’t thinking about anything, and now you aren’t either. Saerom’s anal walls are built like a cocksleeve to hug and clamp around your shaft. With this inexorably tight hold, you can’t move, a statue, marbled by pleasure.

Looking back at you, Saerom frowns, her thinking returning. She doesn’t speak but she says why the fuck aren’t you totally inside, and you can hear it out loud in the bedroom only filled with ragged breathing. In frustration, she lifts her ass higher by tiptoeing, and you have to grab something, the edge of the desk, her waist, whatever you can. You look down, and her legs are trembling now. Long groans escape you and Saerom when you’re finally guts deep, finally inside her ass with your whole length. Never have you gone this deep inside Saerom; the last anal attempt was more half-assed. Now you're stretching Saerom in places she didn't know she had, content with her warming your cock.

You pull back, squeeze a bit more lube on your cock for good measure, and begin anally fucking Saerom in earnest. Can’t let patience rule you. Her pussy is tight; this ass has a complete throttlehold. To ram into Saerom’s asshole means you succumb to the constriction and thus what would be a torrid rhythm is turned spasmodic—fierce, yet subject to fits of paralysis, where you return from fleshly lust to scientific observation. Metrology in mind, you measure the precise amount of your dick inside of Saerom's butt, calculate the forces with which her asscheeks jiggle.

Nothing so surgical about your hands as you pull by her hair bundled in your fingers, enough to lift her head off the desk. Saerom looks at you with a nearly crazed frown—no, that’s her smile upside down—mad lust in her eyes, and teardrops every time her asshole is impaled by your shaft, down to the balls.

As much as you’re fucking Saerom, Saerom is fucking you. Regardless of her submissive position bent over the desk, she backs that ass up into you, and her smile shifts from smug to wild to docile and pliant with every thrust.

Thrust back and you see her gaped asshole, the width and consequences of your cock's pounding. It’s winking, at a rapid rhythm somewhere between her breaths and her heartbeat.

Who cares that you're in the middle of fucking Saerom’s unmatched ass—you can't help but get on your knees.

"Oh, fuck," Saerom says, "what are you—ohhh." 

Your tongue finds itself in Saerom’s used and stretched-out hole. One hand is holding an asscheek with a firm grip while the other hand is teasing her pussy lips. You drive your tongue deep enough that her asshole can’t just relax, can’t just ungape itself from being this well-fucked—it’d be a waste of effort and time, and you haven’t eaten out this perfect ass yet. The flavor is foreign but welcome, or whatever. Your lips refuse to release from her widened hole regardless of taste, and your tongue will rival Gluttony’s sin in your relentless analingus. If you do release, it’s only to kiss each of her plump cheeks, to give them the love they deserve, but her anus deserves more love with the bliss it sends to you. Give that love, and romance is returned in a thrumming moan, vibrating through the wood of the desk on which Saerom’s head lays.

In search of deepening that pleasant noise, you fully focus your hands’ attention on her leaking cunt. There were already clear strings leading from her slit to her thighs, from between her legs to the floor, but when you begin to insert fingers into her untongued hole and circle her clit, the leak becomes a whole-hearted drench. Saerom near crumples, slumping at the desk, your active hands keeping her from totally sliding off. The pitch of her voice heightens, and her whole body shakes.

"I’m f-fucking, cu-cumming!"

Your fingers are battering into her pussy, your tongue is sloppily tending to her asshole, and you’re kneeling next to a puddle growing as the spray from her cunt reaches its maximum pressure—

Catch her. As she shudders and limps into the floor as you envisioned, you hold Saerom as you two sit and inhale and exhale and inhale and—and slowly now, exhale.

"Slowly now, exhale," you say.

Saerom turns her head, eyes like a stray cat fed. Look deeper, and it’s more like there’s nothing there past the sclera’s white, the iris’ dark brown, dim of her pupils. The colors and shapes are all in the right places, sure. Nothing. Stroke her cheeks, its high bones, and her nose and her jaw. Be careful with those. Don’t get a cut on their sharp edges. The thought evolves: how sharp can she be? Her words and glare can cut, at times. Here, she’s feathers. She’s clouded; no, she's clouds. She’s fur. Looks back at you, the quietest smirk, like this one doesn’t say anything—she can be a cat, sure.

Though your breaths are now steady, you have to carry her as you relocate your two bodies to the bed. While Saerom’s orgasm has racked her, you are not faring much better. Truly flagging, it takes a whole minute until you’re both lying on the mattress—the clock you forgot or pretend not to care about said 10:28 with its longest hand up, then 10:29, longest hand up again when you look again.

Your arm under her neck, Saerom looks at you. "So we’re done for the night?" she asks.

You laugh weakly. "You’re asking like we’re not."

Saerom rolls her leg over your waist, hooking your erection between her calf and thigh to make a point.

Again, your laugh has little air to it. As much as you want to go on forever, spend all the moonlight fucking Saerom’s ass, you don’t have the energy left to move. You close your eyes, sorry in your heart for ignoring her succubine advance for a final round.

You’re going to sleep. One or five or thirty minutes pass. Can’t tell. The internal hourglass is too tired. Sand won’t even fall. There should be an ending here regardless.

Weight. Instead of an ending and empty darkness of sleep, weight, and heft, the now intimately familiar but always welcome warmth and plushness of Saerom’s butt against your crotch. You feel her hair scattered on your face, tickling and itching, and you half open your eyes, but you stay stock-still. Instead of next to you, Saerom is lying on top of you.

You should’ve known this would happen. It’s not the first time she’s done this to you, not even the first time on this bed. When you were stressed from the responsibilities and the changes of your new non-idol occupation, you answered a Saerom booty call, expecting to have fucked out your tension and worry. However, the moment you lay on her bed, you fell asleep—then woke up to Saerom sliding down onto your cock like it was a bomb that would explode at the slightest bump.

You didn’t complain then, and when you watch Saerom apply lube on her thighs, making them shiny and wet, you don’t complain now. The muted glimmer of her pale skin, her thighs giving way to your cockhead as it pokes out with each slide, yet those don’t compare to the loving caress of her flesh on your shaft.

Saerom must know you’re awake. There’s no way you can ignore the coolness of the lube on your tip, or her finger smearing the small beads of seed on your slit. She carries on yet, the sluggish up-down motion of her legs becoming a back and forth: she moves forward to slide your length against her pussy lips, then moves back to give your shaft her thighs' full embrace.

You buck up into her labia, her thighs, and that’s when she gives up the game, a chuckle as she shakes her head, moving hair off your face.

"Look at you," she whispers, "pretending to be asleep."

You groan when she grasps your shaft carelessly. "I didn’t want to interrupt."

She sits up, grabs the lube, applies more to your length by stroking and twisting, then guides your cock into her asshole before leaning back into your chest.

Kiss her neck. Lightly, with pecks, you didn't forget. It matches the verve with which Saerom fucks her ass into you.

That is to say, none.

Unlike with the desk, this is the laziest anal sex you’ve ever had. Every few seconds, a deliberate rolling of her ass. In, out, this piston couldn’t drive a toy car. There’s purring like a car anyway: guttural sounds from deep within your throat, Saerom matches them, still not used to the brute stretching of her asshole. If her pussy is a natural moist velvet that enveloped your cock, her asshole is the closest thing you can imagine to a sex toy, made to wring your cock out, lube fully necessary for the tightness. She's almost stuck on your shaft, making each act of pulling out a whole grippy ordeal.

After enough of this lethargic penetration, you endure the ordeal and unsheathe fully.

There's only one way this can end. You truly understand how this night is a cycle. The giver becomes the receiver; the subject becomes the agent—the push and the pull are bound in sequence.

Never any words to communicate the time to switch where they aren't needed and are a waste of oxygen by now. (You, the liar or the fool, must know you're fluent by now.)

You peel Saerom off your cock, setting her aside on the bed. You're not so gentle when you flip her over. She sits up, kneeling, facing away from you (facing the dear enemy, the clock, above the head of the bed). Hands on knees, she wiggles her ass and looks back at you. The soles of her feet are equally inviting, toes wiggling. (You want to bite them.) She bites her finger. Never fails to make you act.

You're quick to your feet, standing by the edge of the bed, and then grab Saerom's waist and pull her toward you. Falling forward, she gets on all fours.

Push.

If the rest of your life could be defined by pushing and pulling with Saerom, that would be fine by you.

Cock in her asshole, nothing more.

Fine, there's a little more. You're holding your shaft, your thumb on your tip, and you tease Saerom's anal entrance one last time. even if this hole has acclimatized to the exact mold of your dick's shape, evidenced by its continued gape, you can't help but savor a final time. You rub your tip around in a circle.

Enough of that. You push an hour into a minute, pull a minute into a second, push a second to the wayside. There is no truly timing in the animalistic act of doggystyle, especially not with Saerom. Hands in her hair, hands on her back, hands spanking hard against her ass, hands cupping her breast as you bend over and kiss where your fingers dug in, every thrust consolidating into one. You're under some self-made thrall, and Saerom is in that same complete thrall. With her feet keep kicking up at the sheer bulldozing force into her very guts, you take one moment of not having her ass in your hands to knead her soles. Then you're back inside, making sure that mold-tight hold of her asshole is perfectly set, or whatever was there is being rearranged. How you're fucking Saerom on all fours, it's like you're rushing for an ending, and you get what you want soon enough.

A single fiber of your being and your soul (in other words, hormones and nerves) becomes a quivering fire, then two fibers, then four, and the pretty pattern flowers into something equally pretty in its chaos.

As this night can't last forever, the doggystyle position can’t last either.

She falls back down, face onto the mattress, and she spreads her legs in a split. You keep pounding, your false energy like the retreating soldiers of a battle sounding off their final shots, and as you do, you massage her ass. Saerom shouts into her pillow at your throes, though it's equally spaced with satisfied hums at your unfailing handiwork. Hands are the only part of you that fail to fail. You want to fill her insides with cum, to destroy the crumbling dam of your restraint. Want to paint her guts white. Want becomes need. You’re fucking her hard enough to turn the necessary into the truth. 

"Saerom, I’m…" Finish your sentence. You can’t.

Saerom has her own idea about this ending anyway.

She pulls herself off you. Her tight anus is reluctant to let go of your pulsating cock (you empathize). Saerom rushes to your waist, crawling down to the floor and onto her knees in front of you. It gives you a second to breathe—no, it doesn’t; Saerom’s lips are sealed around your cock already. By the look in her eyes, she wants to suck your soul out. All uncertainty thrown aside, she pushes herself down into your length with a repeated rhythm. Each loud and forceful gag of her self-throatfucking comes with a mess of spit that stains her bed, waterfalls onto the floor.

However, you have the final say.

Grab her hair, pull your cock out of her mouth, and stroke yourself as you aim down.

The first shot hits her chin, dripping, but the other jets of cum cover her neck, her shoulders, and her collarbone, exactly as promised. There are no revelations in this orgasm—unfortunately, you haven’t been superhumanly recharged. The edge of your sight blackens and your knees halfway give out. For this is purely physical. Pure hormones and static sparking pleasure to your body as you stroke your cock to Saerom’s visage and form, and quivering fire is jittery lightning when you cover all that unblemished skin in sticky cum, vulgarizing, fulfilling promises sexy.

Your mouth is dry. Everything else too.

A phone is handed to you. A picture is taken. A smile is on her lips. (A final lesson, smiles don't drip the same way cum does.)

There should be an ending here, but see, climaxes are the true ending, and the true ending is just a necessity. As you and Saerom cuddle, there is an understanding. Comfortable, but uncomfortable. The future, a future, between the two of you exists in some uncertain state. The two of you might find something deeper in this bond, or might never know anything more than friendship and sex. Don’t think too hard for now. It exists unspoken, for now. Whatever would exist is far away from the confines of this bed, and this hold on her body, and eyelids lowering with the understandings between you intertwining—not solved, but trying; if it were solved, then you would just say it right now. We’re together. We’re not together. We’re just fucking. Who cares. If it were solved, there would be no ambiguity to the ghost touch of Saerom’s fingertips on your back and a breath trying to let a word out but letting that warm air become past sand in the glass bulbs and the upper bulb is damn near empty.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

[forwntrx]

girls like girls (like boys do)!

♡ - winter x reader | yunjin x reader

₍ PROIFLES <3 ˗ˏˋTHE IDOL CLUB ˎˊ˗

( THE GCS ! ) " is this is the most random gc to ever exist ? "

𑁍┊YN'S FRIEND GROUP

𑁍┊masterlist － y/n’s groupies — yunjin’s haters — chapter one

yeonjun (99' liner); starts the gc after filming tiktoks with everybody in the industry, constantly fighting with y/n, loves his fans the most, SASSY, y/n’s #1 hater

jeongin (01' liner); hates everyone unironically, tzuyu & him might be siblings but the dna results haven’t come in so no one knows lol, says fuck too much, never where he’s suppose to be, gay hater, milf lover #1

tzuyu (99' liner); the most unproblematic member of the gc, y/n’s wife, everyone loves tzuyu bcs why wouldn’t you???, asks the most uncomfortable questions, asks everyone how their days are going, angel

sunghoon (02' liner); y/n’s least favorite (jokes), youngest in the gc & is made fun of bcs of it, lovable idiot, SILLY, gc’s spokesperson, milf lover #2

{also} ryujin (01’ liner); aeri’s girlfriend, shamelessly trying to get yunjin & y/n together, not rlly active in this gc, she’s here tho, done with everyone, milf lover #3 especially aeri’s

{also} yunjin (01’ liner); she makes it into the gc somehow (thirst), jeongin hates her bcs all she does is agree with y/n, y/n’s #1 supporter, SIMP, shameless

𑁍┊YUNJIN’s FRIEND GROUP

ryujin (01' liner); yunjin's #2 hater after chaewon, y/n's #1 supporter, switches from both gcs, the matchmaker fr, gets her account reported by yuqi on the daily, shits on jyp every chance she gets, loona stan

chaeryeong (01' liner); she needs to stop making corny jokes, snsd brain rot, wishes everyone would shut up sometimes, the cutest tbh, shit talks yunjin in the gc like she's dead, still yunjin's favorite tho

yeji (00' liner); not here for the bs, in love w/ chae tho, holding the braincell in the gc, the funniest tbh, has leader meetings with chaewon over yunjin, scheming on the low, wants to see yunjin happy but careful!

yuqi (99' liner); here to make fun of yunjin thats all, flirts with everyone in the gc, wants to have a 3some with ryu n aeri, shouts her lyrics EVERYWHERE, dumbass #1, encourages yunjin's stupid ideas just to see the world burn, milf lover #4

𑁍┊a/n: thank you again for all support on this smau!!!! i’m gonna try to get out updates and have a set schedule just because it makes it easier for me :)) 𑁍┊taglist: send me an ask to be put on the list <3 @aeongiies @runawaymazola @wintersgff @winieter @luvjanexx @justme-idle @sewiouslyz @lcv3lies @yerisdumbass @nasyu-kookies @kchwnsgf @jeindall777 @dr-wholehearted @thoughtfulqueenlady @yunalvrrr @juhyunsthirdwife

[yiiiikesmish]

it's been like 2 hours and episode 3 dropped so please (if you want to) enjoy more of my ramblings. all reactions are written as i watch and ngl it'll probs be a lot about how much i love river and that id fuck him in less than a heartbeat.

genuinely what the fuck is up with the french??? WHAT IS THIS CONSPIRACY WHAT IS GOING ON

probably didn't need to hit you but you're just so pretty when you're beaten up baby.

WHAT BOMB WHAT DID YOU DO DAVID.

ok no need to be a bitch david. catherine is a treasure and she's just trying to help you.

ok catherine is better than me bc this man has said i need to speak to first desk like 10 times and i'm just shouting at my screen going yeah we fucking know that asshole

you're being hurtful about my appearance. HES JUST A BABY (a very stinky unshowered old baby but still i protect)

FACTS DAVID IS A PIECE OF SHIT SING IT JACKSON

roddy is a disaster i love him. oh wait who's his girlfriend tho i wanna know

see i knew claude had some brains. work out what stupid shit people have been doing.

god rivers eyes are so blue 😍😍

i'm honestly incredibly surprised that this dumbass hasn't attempted to escape through like the roof or smth stupid like that

OFC HE WAS HER SON LMAO. literally only river could be like oh it's cool he's dead and the guy being dead is like probably not the best thing that could happen

pop off catherine. if i didn't know better i'd totally believe that she'd never seen david

ok what is up with hoodie boy. and that got dark really fast that knife popped out of nowhere. hoodie boy has a sad tortured backstory (does he have a name???)

what weird biological french boy army is this frank guy cooking up???

RUN YOU STUPID FUCK WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE GOING LOL THATS A BIG DOG

oh my poor baby he was so close to making a cool exit. you almost did it and that's what counts. CAN YOU RUN PLEASE the lack of self preservation skills is honestly something to be admired

david made his escape. WERE FUCKED YALL

WHAT DID YOU DO DAVID WHAT HAPPENED IN FRANCE

OH SHIT THE OTHER OLD MAN IS THAT SAM BLOKE

marcus babes idk what you're doing but TURN AROUND STOP DOING WHAT YOURE DOING

marcus you are an awful negotiator what was that i think i cried out of embarrassment

GO SHIRELY IDK WHAT ABT TO HAPPEN BUT YOURE GONNA SLAY BABES

LEAVE HIM GO SAVE CHAPMAN. oh you tried baby you got blood so good enough.

lmao ofc jackson just keep walking. OOP take that back he ran the french bred army boy over (and he already disappeared???? what fucking training camp did this frank put his sons through????)

anyways that's all for this week honestly surprised and saddened that i didn't thirst over river more but anyways... if u got this far thank you for skimming my thoughts. i'll be back next week for episode 4!

[invisiblegarters]

Only Friends Ranking - Ep 1

Will probably never liveblog this one because I'm watching with a friend (if you read this you're the best thank you for putting up with me and my crazy lol) and so we mostly talk to each other during. :D Never done that before and I have to say it's already a blast.

So now that I am slightly more coherent and not just flailing about making high pitched sounds and flapping my hands (I believe I can fly) here's how I feel about our characters and their relationshipsI re:

Characters (Most to Least Fave atm)

Sand: As expected, I adore him. He's so tough but such a marshmallow underneath, I worry because it looks like he's signing himself up to get his heard trampled, and much as I enjoy First's tears (me and all of GMMTV I think), I just hate knowing that he's gonna be going through it, haha. Sand protector indeed. Heartbreak sucks and he's gonna feel it firsthand here. I really enjoy how irritated he is 90% of the time but I am worried that Ray of all people is gonna be his bi awakening. Please BL Jesus no. Also I hope he keeps his backbone because one thing I can't stand is a character who gets spineless the second they fall in love. Also please don't make him sing anymore I adore him but a singer he is not. He really does have the look though. Impeccable vibes.

Boston: Second fave right now, also as expected. I just love his slutty, slutty ass. Love that he mixed business with pleasure to mess around with Top again and instead he has to deal with Top setting his sights on Mew. Love that he's hooking up with everyone, no wonder Neo was like "I never have any clothes on" lol. Whether or not he cares about Top as a person, he is definitely feeling some kind of way about Top not wanting a repeat of their hookup (and Top has already told him this. Boston, babe. Either you are smitten or you are just that much of a narcissistic asshole. Could go either way really). I adore him and every ridiculous bone in his body. If they want to bring in a new dude every episode for him to go at it with I would not say nay.

Chueam: I knew she'd be high up on the list because Lookjun, but I would like April to appear please. I love how encouraging she is towards the whole TopMew thing, and girl, I feel you on the "have some fun, get laid, he's hot" thing. Lesbians next ep please

Mew: First surprise for me. I adore this guy. Adore him. He knows exactly what he's worth and he's paying attention, my guys - he clocked Top pretty fast so you can't tell me he's not fully aware of both Boston's and Ray's feelings (still loathe the idea of a RayMew endgame but mostly because the Ray of it all, lol). He's pretty and quiet and doesn't like to party like his friends so everyone assumes he's this naive dumbass (and I mean everyone - I think from Top to Ray to Boston to Chueam they all see him much the same) who doesn't know what he's about, and yet he keeps showing (not telling, this is Jojo at work and I love him for it) that he really, really isn't. Top is going down, my guys. Mew is gonna wreck this man so hard that he's not going to know which way is up and I for one am here to see it go down. If he makes out with Sand a little about it I wouldn't complain (I know, but hey. I can dream).

Nick: I admire a dude who will put a thirst pic on another dude's phone as a come on. I appreciate that he knows what he wants and he's going for it, and I anticipate he's gonna go full on crazy in a way no one expects when things start to go bad with Mr. Boston, and I am fully seated and waiting with the biggest of grins on my face.

Ray: I knew he would be awful, and I am so so happy! I can't tell you how pleased I am right now - he's awful! The way he grabbed Sand's face like he was a prize dog at a show and not a person

(exhibit A)

was pitch perfect, I hate his guts (mostly affectionate). And yeah yeah deep-seated insecurities and probably daddy issues blah blah I don't care. I'm nine thousand percent positive he's only going to get worse and I am here for it. I do like that we can already see exactly how needy he is - he's going to be so needy and I fully expect him to lash out the second he feels like he's needed in return because he's so used to taking, I want to see him and Sand really go at it once Sand gets fed up with the bottomless black hole of need he clearly is (please Sand get fed up with it), especially since it's clear that the only person he's willing to give concessions to is Mew. I desperately want Sand to wreck him but well. I also highly doubt it'll happen. We'll see. I fully expect that I will hate him for real at some point (it's on my bingo card) but if anyone can drag me around to loving him in the end it's Khaotung. Hopefully there's growth in store for him, else he'll get boring very quickly.

Top: Ah, Top. SO OTT that you know he absolutely doesn't mean it. WHen he grabbed that mic I was so terrified. I can barely handle whateverthehell First was doing I can't do Force as well. Please don't put me through it I will cry. He's just...not my favorite. Yes he's a playboy and yes he's gonna say a lot of playboy things and I honestly can't wait to see Mew destroy him.

Relationships (most to least fave)

Currently, I want to know what is up with Top and Sand so badly that it is painful. I desperately want them to be bitter exes but my real guess is that Top fucked around with someone Sand cares about and he hates him good for it, while Top has no clue who Sand even is. My first guess is a relative but could just be a close friend. Sand hates him though, and I love it. I want them to angrily make out about it.

MewTop has me in a chokehold right now, completely unexpectedly. I am not a ForceBook fan - they were cute in Enchante but I had not time for ABAAB so I expected they'd be meh to me. Not so. I'm obsessed. I can't wait to see them implode and for Mew to go full crazy.

BostonNIck: Again, I just think Nick is gonna go off in a way no one expects. It's always the sweet, quiet ones (see: Mew, even though I don't actually think he's all that sweet really).

RaySand: I like their antagonistic thing but I'm really incredibly not here for Ray being Sand's first bi experience, although I think it would make sense for Sand, who is way sweeter than his tough exterior implies (compare this with Mew, who has the sweetest of exteriors but I suspect could easily cut a bitch and not even flinch), to fall head over heels for the first guy who comes along and rocks his world (and whatever else you can say about Ray - and I'm sure I at least will - I'd bet cash money he is very very good in bed). This was honestly the one I thought would have me in a chokehold in spite of myself so I'm surprised to be less invested in it than I am the other two right now. I assume once the angst really kicks in though it'll get me even though I'd rather it not, because the one thing that will always be true about me is I love angst.

Also I was today years old when I discovered that some people think that First and Khaotung have no chemistry. This bluescreened my brain for a good five seconds, lol. Send help.

In conclusion

I really liked the ep. It gave good set up and a good foundation for all the mess that we know is to come, also I lost the betting pool on who Boston was messing around with in the trailer (I hoped Ray, guessed Papang, was blindsided by Drake). I would love to chat about this with any and everyone. because I don't want to annoy my watch buddy too much and yet I am already obsessed and fear I might. I'd apologize for the person I am about to become but well, I'm not really sorry. 😊

I am also very much looking forward to the meta that is going to come out of people much smarter (and less prone to making silly jokes) than me.

Only Friends Era let's goooo!

[deadprompts]

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝟷 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂.

content warning applies. change any pronouns / wording if necessary.

there's us and the dead.

this is what takes us down.

the tragedy of their loss cannot be overstated.

i'm gonna get shit-faced drunk again

you should've seen the look on his face when i punched out his front teeth.

you're still a dumbass.

nice moves there, clint eastwood.

i think tomorrow i'm gonna blow my brains out.

y'all be more polite to a man with a gun!

zero tolerance for walkers.

that's the biggest lie there is.

we're safe here.

it's not a toy.

i know how the safety works.

keep drinking, little man.

do not enter the city.

bright side, it'll be the fall that kills us.

you may think you do but you don't.

living underground doesn't help; not knowing if it's day or night.

wish i could have done it a month ago.

friend, you need glasses.

there's good news?

it was worth every minute of it just to see that prick spit his teeth out on the ground.

i finally got the scrubbers in the east sector shut down to save power.

there were dozens of 'em.

eww. that's nasty.

maybe we got a second chance.

help me now, show me the way.

i didn't behave, i know.

screw you, man.

sometimes they fall short.

you take that stupid hat and go back to "on golden pond."

you the new sheriff come riding in to clean up the town?

cozy in there?

the only reason i got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eating my family.

i don't even know why i'm talking to you.

that's my boy.

this is our extinction event.

how far do you think i can chuck this, huh?

things are different now.

if you see anything, holler. i'll come running.

go on, tell me what to do.

hey kid, what'd you do before all this?

what are the odds, huh?

i know what i want to say.

i see a chance to make a new start.

i remember my dream now.

i ain't begged you before, i ain't gonna start begging now.

i know i'm being punished.

it wasn't my intention.

i can't let a man die of thirst.

i wanna see how red your face can get.

the world ended, didn't you get the memo?

we survive this by pulling together, not apart.

anybody that gets in the way of that is gonna lose.

it scares the fish.

thought i'd get to drive at least for a few more days.

i'll give you a moment to think about that.

i'm sorry this happened to you.

i'm old enough.

it belongs to the dead now.

maybe we'll get to steal another one someday.

nobody is gonna hurt you, okay?

they came out of nowhere.

saves me the embarrassment.

that's the bad news.

can i learn to shoot?

you pull the trigger, you have to mean it.

not many people get that.

bites kill you.

just...feeling very...off.

words can be meager things.

what he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me.

what do you say to that?

guess the world changed.

the fever burns you out, but then after a while... you come back.

hell yes you're gonna learn.

you heard me, bitch.

the weak get taken.

there's no clinical progress to report.

still not sleeping well, can't seem to keep regular hours.

we gotta do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon.

we are surviving here.

too bad i never studied engineering.

yeah, whatever, yee haw.

they might not seem like much one at a time, but in a group all riled up and hungry, man you watch your ass.

one thing i do know, don't you get bit.

we don't kill the living.

no crying in the boat.

i bet there isn't a single son of a bitch still listening out there, is there?

that's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being.

you don't know what it's like out there.

you're surrounded by walkers.

we don't have to be afraid anymore.

who voted you king boss?

we left him like an animal caught in a trap.

the line is pretty clear.

admit it, you only came back to atlanta for the hat.

i can see you make a habit of missing the point.

it's only a matter of time.

is this real?

there's us and the dead.

you got a problem?

there's too many of those things.

i never told them what i really thought.

i ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard.

i'm a glass half full kinda guy.

it's the same as it ever was.

who the hell are you, man?!

[crimsun-n-clover]

dalia chronicles

i need her so bad dude

like. i don’t. i’m just being weird because i’m bored and she’s my type.

BUT—

i’ve hit rock fucking bottom. i took all the screenshots of her stuff and all the songs off of them and put them in a playlist. because if i was posting “me <3” to thee most obscure song ever?? i’d want people to go check that shit out. and like. understand me or whatever. but that’s what i would want. i’m being fucking weird about this. i think she’d like the attention but i’d actually rather die than give it to her in this dumbass unstable institutionalized way

i just need her to dm me first ONE TIME. not replying to me posting her stuff on my story. like. replying to literally anything else. to justify my behavior.

BECAUSE

HERES THE FUCKING T H I N G MAN

i took mickey to a concert a few days back. twas rad. we saw idkhow. i posted about it a little. when i get home and check my instagram?? i see that i posted us at the concert waiting for it to start 5 hours ago. and dalia posted a question submission box to an idkhow song. 5 hours ago.

WHAT ARE THE ODDS. she’s fucking with me. she’s SO fucking with me. just dm me for the love of GOD and stop baiting me with things. even though it’s kinda why im into you in the first place. fuckin whatever man.

this is literal torture but i’m kinda having a good time ngl

today she posted two stories to the song casual by chappell roan and holy. fuck. dude. that song is SO real.

i’ve felt used so much for my looks and reputation and i was fucking fine with it at the time because if that was all i was gonna get then i should just shut up and be grateful. i was so stupid but i was almost happy. it made everything hurt so much more when it was over because honestly? i was fucking bitter. i wanted nothing more than revenge and numbness. i wanted to hurt her back and keep her down before she can try that shit again. teach her a thing or two about what loss means. it’s horrible to be like that, i know. but it was horrible of her to be showing me apartment listings for us while talking to a guy who was actively homophobic toward me. i’m not proud of what i did or who i am, but fuck being the bigger person. i’m three fuckin inches tall and gonna get in your stupid double standard holding brain until you pry me out yourself and admit what you did.

anyway

dalia posted herself to that song twice in a thirst trappy way. i want to pick her brain so bad. what happened? are you okay?? you deserve better. you’re interesting and talented and deserve every ounce of attention you crave. i’d be happy to give you some if you’d give me permission. i don’t want to be the problem here. the bits of your personality that i’ve seen have been so intriguing to me. i’m enraptured and i want to know more. it’s not purely physical, but it could be if you want it to.

also. why are you so hot it’s not FAIR and how have the last two girls i’ve been dangerously into posted themselves with a star drawn on their collarbone and made my poor gay brain short circuit?? i’m actually in shock about that one ngl. while the lyric “knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?” plays in the background. i hope i die

moving on. ish.

i want to save it but they’re videos and i can’t just paste videos into a notes file like i would with a photo i didn’t want laying around. i didn’t even like the more thirst trappy one because i’m RESPECTFUL. she’s so pretty and i want to drool over her a little. i’m obviously fucking ashamed but if a straight guy did it it would be normal so. whatever. i feel like saving it would be hitting some kind of barrier. dunno what it is but there’s gotta be a limit around here somewhere. or maybe it’s admitting something to myself. that this is a genuine interest but it’s not if i don’t save the video. GOD i hate it here

i feel like i’m objectifying her? like. i’d love for her to objectify me honestly. lick my fucking tongue and get it over with so i can think about it for the rest of my life. she seems to be looking for attention in any way she can get it and that makes me think she would be cool with it. but i don’t want to be that you know? i know how that feels. but i also wouldn’t mind something unserious with her. but i would want more if she wanted more. that’s a fucking LIE i’d want more regardless but i’d take more if i got permission.

i’m kinda sorta maybe the type of person with an avoidant attachment style. something good happens? cool! sounds like bullshit. cash out while i’m high and tuck tail n fucking bolt. i’ll feel like shit about it but if i stick around something bad always happens.

i’m getting. a vibe. that maybe she’s similar. i’m probably just projecting. i don’t know how to describe it, but it feels like everything she does is a wild fucking shot in the dark and then she runs off for a bit until she builds up the courage to do it again. she’ll drop a hint or say something important and then post art and her outfit for a week and do it all over again.

it feels like we’re both testing the water at different times. just “wouldn’t it be cool if. girlfriend? GOODBYE GUYS NICE KNOWING YOU” eventually there’s gonna be an intersection and shit is gonna go DOWN bro. like. added to my lore kind of down. but i think i’m gonna be the one to have to actually make the first move that isn’t liking her stories and i’m gonna blow my fucking brains out. and like five other people will die because of all the suicide pacts i’m a part of.

and then immediately after i get even a DROP of reciprocation i’ll go “damn that’s crazy. fuckin ditto or whatever. i’m leaving the country don’t wait up” OR immediately propose. no in between. i hate it here

[blackfangedreaper]

Prompted: @chomichomas :)

Pairing : itoshi rin x fem reader

Warning : sexual content, grammatical errors, ooc rin. MDNI.

Tags: @closet-degenerate @euphofic @luffyinlove @roronoaswifey

Note : take this with a grain of salt... Whatever the hell that means.

Yes he is. When he's not out thirsting for the blood of his enemies ( his brothers mostly) he's here, back pressed against your soft bed and face stuffed with pussy. You think he likes air? Think again!

'Come on' 'please' 'more' he's begging at this point, pls give him want he wants he's hungry. Now you might be asking; what does he want? He wants you to ride his face, to suffocate him with those plush thighs then shower him with your essence. His team would have a field day if they knew big boy rin was whining for pussy.

You think he'll be satisfied after riding his face? Ha! What a joker, how about some clown shoes for your dumbass. Of course he's not satisfied he did ask for more earlier didn't he? Finally got the hint? Good now get to riding, no not his face idiot, his dick.

He loves watching you go up and down his cock, your head thrown back as you try to take him all in. Your moans echoing around your bedroom walls, his grunts and airy whimpers egging you on. You heard me! Whimpers.... Oh please he definitely does. Argue with the wall.

His hands grabbing at your butt to roll you forward, he's thrusting up at this point tired of your unintentional teasing. 'Fuck you're driving me crazy.' 'Want to feel you closer' 'You feel so good' 'Cum with me please' poor baby's so needy he doesn't even know what he's saying anymore.

He's so drunk and dazed on the feeling of you he almost came early, it's torture holding it in but he wants to cum with you, he wants to be in you longer, he wants to be with you, love you fuck you, claim you, breed you. Careful it's baby fever season.

Just the feeling of your nails raking his chiseled chest or your warm palms pressed against his abdomen has him twitching crazily so just imagine how good he feels when you tighten up at his praise or how you bend low to moan in his ears.

The best part for you is when he's close to coming he gets so erratic, pumping into you so fast that you lose bearings; who am i? Where am i? What am i? Don't look at me. He gets so needy begging you to cum with him. 'Please please please!' His eyes are on the verge of rolling back arching off the wet sheets andyou swore you saw drool but we aren't gonna talk about that.

His words gets so slurred you barely understand a what he's saying, well it's not like you would if you could, do take note that you're in the same state as him. You're both twitching at this point. I'm talking; toes curling, eyes rolling and cum spurting.

He's whining your name in such an uncharacteristical way as he cums, shaking his head side to side, fingers digging into your plush thighs as his eyes roll back painfully into his head. His teeth sinking into his lips to keep his moans muffled, head sinking back as his muscles stiffen and spasm due to his intense orgasm.

You squirt leaving him drenched, just as he wanted. This left you groaning as you felt full from his essence, your back and neck hurt from arching so much and your body felt sore from both intense orgasms he gave you, you moaned as he softly kept pumping easing his cum into your cervix.

Both your hips twitched then came to a stop as you both rode out your orgasms. Feeling all energy leave your body you leaned forward to lay on him, both of your chests rising and falling as the two of you bathed in the afterglow of sex. Yes he's pussy drunk but he makes you dick drunk to make up for it. So i guess it's a mission accomplished.

I am deeply scared, I don't know how to Tumblr, but I'll say that Itoshi Rin is the typa guy to get pussydrunk

[ssiggss]

SO I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THE DESIGN FOR VILLIAN!VARVATOS,,,

God he could throw me through three, six inch kevlar panes of glass and I would THANK HIM GOD

[theflannelwizard]

Hi everyone if you’re here for BNHA you should send me art/doodle requests. I might not do all of them but as long as it’s not anything gross or Baku//Deku I’ll probably make it happen :)

[the-magicians-blue]

u know how micah did that virus thingy..where its a photo of him showing of his abs..what if the MC did it back to him FBDJFHJF

LMAO THAT POOR MAN I GOT YOU

Warning: a little suggestive since your sending thirst pics but that’s as far as it goes

11:29pm

It was a knee jerk reaction he promises. Did he want to hang up? No of course not. Did he want you to see him loose his shit completely? Absolutely not. He wasn’t gonna give you the satisfaction of having bested him. Though he has to admit…. Hanging up wasn’t really the best way to fight back.

The conversation had started off as it usually did, the usual banter and whatever topics you two could think of. Then you suddenly stopped the conversation to ask if you could give a gift. At first he assumed you were sending him food or a toy of some sort like he usually did for you, so he absentmindedly said yes. Suddenly a bunch a windows began popping up on his screen. Each of them had a photo of you sitting on your legs in one of the oversized shirts he left at your house. You had the shirt lifted up to reveal a pair of black undies that shaped your butt nicely. And of course you showed it off by turning so it was on full display. All you heard was the beginnings of a loud screech before the call suddenly ended.

Micah had quick gotten out of his chair, squealing as his brain was struggling to calm down from how hot you looked. His face was burning and he needed to cool down. He quickly went to his kitchen for a cold bottle of water. When he returned the photos were still there on his computer screen teasing him, or rather tormenting him. Damn you were hot it wasn’t fair. He started to remove the multiple windows on his screen after he saved the photos of course. That’s what he noticed your messages.

My Angel <3: you ok?

My Angel <3: Micah???

My Angel <3: don’t tell me that you short circuited that much cause of lil ole me~

Micah huffed and crosses his arms, for someone who couldn’t take their own medicine you sure were quick to tease him every chance you got.

Micah Yujin: don’t let your head get to big angel, my connection just failed thats all

My Angel <3: 🧢🧢🧢

My Angel <3: there no way you don’t have the best internet money can buy ain’t shit failed

My Angel <3: just admit it, I beat you

Micah Yujin: NEVER

Now that he was calm he called back, smiling as if nothing happened.

“See, the called dropped thats all, nice try though angel!” You raised a brow at him, still not believing him.

“Yeah sure. In that case you wouldn’t mind me sending more right?” You smirked at him as he gulped at your question.

“Y-yeah! I can totally handle any little trick you’ve got up your sleeve!” He triedhis best to look confident but the red on his cheeks and ears said otherwise. So you decided to send more. You had plenty since you wanted to take the perfect photo. He couldn’t see you cause his screen was covered in photos but you could see him. He was trying to keep his cool but the blush was quickly spreading to the rest of his face.

“OK OK FINE YOU WIN! Please, my poor little heart can’t take it… you’re too sexy! Any normal person would have passed out by now!” You couldn’t help but laugh at his response.

“At least you know you’re no where near normal.” He smirked at you, now back to his usual smug self.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have been able to make you fall hopelessly in love with me if I was some normal guy. Just who do you think you’re talking to angel?”

“A dumbass thats who.” You both busted into laughter. It was the small moments like this that had you hooked on each other. Even when you bickered or try to best each other there was always a hint of love behind it. Like Micah said, no one normal could make you feel the way he does.

[ncityavenue]

𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙉𝘾𝙏 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙨

Very straightforward, it's not gonna be all of nct. Random selects I guess, it's gonna be members that come to the front of my mind if that makes sense🤞🏾

────────────────────────

JAEHYUN

Why do I feel like this my man's texting is dry💀like you tell him your plans for the week and hes just like "OK." And yall don't text for the next 4 hrs— STOP WHAT IS THIS SUDDEN JAEHYUN SLANDER😭😭 LOVE HIM THO🤞🏾

(Suggestive) you will know when he's in THE mood if you catch my drift, he texts more frantically and his sentences don't make sense as much ncjwbdhdbakm— you'd be like "are you okay?" And he's like "...I'm horny" and you're just like "okay well I'm at work so you gotta wait " NSIWBCCHSBWKMAO IM SORRY—

BRUH HIS LAUGH TEXT STYLE IS DEFINITELY "Lol", "lmfao", "💀". You genuinely don't know if you made him laugh unless you are on call with him and you hear that dad laugh😭

JOHNNY

He always greets you with a "good morning sexy😏" like sir....we have slobber all over our mouth, SEXY WHERE????

He texts you just to make you're notifications go outta whack, JUST FOR FUN😭

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA"

"Hi"

"Hi

"Hi"

"Hi"

"JOHNNY PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE."

"Hiii🤗💗💗💗"

"Fuck you"

YUTA

He's a "words of affirmation" texter, like in the morning he tells you "have a good day<333" or "you'll do great today<3"

I mean yuta is more of caller than texter bc he wants to hear your voice 🥰😍🤗🤗❤❤💗💗 awhhhh so cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

He's a sweet texter honestly, DONT TAKE HIM FOR GRANTED

TEN

"Hey dumbass, wanna go out with me and yang?"

I knowwww he accidentally switches the languages anytime he talks to you

He sends SO MANY photos throughout his day * if yall are together he sends...uhm— YEAH YOU GET THE POINT. Thirst trap Ten era🥱*

Crazy thing is you never know if it's actually ten texting you bc he let's his friends borrow his phone and then somehow you wind up talking to Xiaojun instead of Ten. HE SHOULD STOP LETTING PEOPLE JUST HAVE HIS PHONE😭

(Suggestive maybe) "So, I'm at Spencer's."

"Oh great! Have fun!"

"So what size dildo do you want? They have 6,8,9,and 12 inch:)

"...Why am I with you again?"

"JUST TELL ME😩"

"8 is a great start ig...."

" okay well I'm at the counter with the 12 inch anyway! See you later love you gorgeous🥰"

"I-..."

JENO

You never truly know what you're gonna get outta him, one day he'll be blowing up your notifications the next he'll be the driest mf ever (Jaehyun 2.0)

He sends memes, honestly all of Dream send memes. So it just runs through his veins

He mostly sends them (flirty memes) when you flirt with him and since he's not the best at flirting he sends one like "damn you lookin fine as hell" with like a a cute cat with sunglasses on😭😭(except that one time a czennie said he was cute and then he said they were cute as well on live and Mark was like :0)

There's been a unhealthy amount of times where he accidentally texts you random gibberish, and he's always like "my bad😊"

MARK

NOOOOOO😭😭 IM LAUGHING ALREADY THINKING ABT THIS, So he makes so many typos especially when you start to flirt HE JUST GOES BALLISTIC💀

"So wht shuld we do TodaY?"

"Omg mark are you asking me out😏😏"

"WA.KT WAT NO...AIM I??? WULD U SAY NO IF I WAS? WAIT HUH—"

"MARK PLEASE CALM DOWN IM JOKING😭"

"I'm sorry imsorryyou scared me I shoukds have asked how ur daiy wss sorry sorry!!!!"

"YOU'RE FINE BABY😭"

"Ba-...baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Uhm- okay sugar plum"

"...leave the pet names to me from now on.."

"IM TRYING😭"

If he keeps making errors in his text, he either calls you or sends a voice message💀 Save mark pls.

HAECHAN

He sends memes for EVER-Y-THING, there's never a moment where you're talking to haechan and he doesn't send a meme.

He his text laughs are "GOODBYE-", "LMFAOAOAOAOAO", "IM WHEEZING", "GOODNIGHTTTT"

"Die."

He sends hoe pics

Even if yall are just platonic he sends hoe-y pics and you're like "haechan, I'm at work." And he's like "exactly. Thoughts?" So you decide to fuck with him and you answer with "..why's there a lotion and sock behind you?" And haechan literally deletes the photo😭😭

" hiiiii🥰🥰🥰"

"No."

"C'mon let's talk for like 10 seconds"

"Okay fine"

"How's ur day so far🤗"

"1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10"

"..Die."

"byeeee see u later😍🤞🏾"

────────────────────────

I've been had this idea for awhile but I never wrote it bc I didn't know how to put my frantic thoughts into words- bitch I sound crazy uhm ANYWAYS BXIWVDUWKDOK😭😭

But I hope you liked this and this the end of The BGKSC [Black Girl Kpop Stan Chronicles] IDC IM MAKING IT A THING LEAVE ME BE😭😭😭 BYE BESTIE BOOS🤗❤❤

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[pastxlscorp]

Highschool Headcanons - Tokyo Revengers

Featuring: Chifuyu, Mikey, Mitsuya, and Baji

Chifuyu

Definitely well-liked, mf grew out of his menace phase and is suddenly everyone’s crush

Everyone is gay or straight for this man.

Somehow oblivious to everyone’s attraction to him, man’s a homiesexual and doesn’t notice. When you say he’s attractive he’ll probably just turn tomato red and brush it off like “nooo, you’re prettier!” because he can’t accept compliments.

Kind to his classmates, very respectful to teachers and one of the smartest in the class.

I don’t think he’d gloat about his smarts. He’s confident of his abilities but doesn’t make that apparent to others, unless he’s bragging in front of his friends. He probably gets called on because he knows the answer but doesn’t volunteer.

I’d like to imagine he’s not very extroverted but quite ambiverted and reads manga during class, probably why he gets called on by teachers— they think he isn’t listening.

Looks like a playboy, absolute geek. Fan-girls about manga with his classmates and everyone’s in shock once they realize how nerdy he is.

Always dresses well, even styles his hoodies by using color combos.

Definitely in the school’s book club, boxing club, and in the smart people clubs like the mathletes. Watch the simps join to become friends with him.

To summarize, smart, ambivert, geek, but a sweetheart love him please

Locker is quite organized, mainly crammed with his favorite or current manga books though.

Mikey

His classmates don’t like him and find him quite annoying, always stealing food and pushing himself into conversations

Mf literally known as the “short menace”

His friends know this is his love language so they don’t take it personal, and defend him when their classmates try talking shit abt him

Mf is a menace when people come out rude. He will just joke around and be saying “SIKE” and he’ll get pushed, guaranteed you will be knocked the fuck out. Don’t ruin his vibe.

Very few classmates actually take the time to understand him, and once they learn more about him they find he’s very social-able and actually a big softie for his homies

Sleeps during class. Somehow, still passes— I imagine Mikey is very intelligent but he just doesn’t give a fuck. Probably would be an overachiever if he wasn’t sleeping his dumbass in class and kicking the shit out of people.

Doesn’t participate in any extracurricular activities. Often in detention for his violent tendencies.

His annoying behavior is him trying to get attention, my son… give him love please. He’s completely aware of how everyone perceives him and it makes him a little self-conscious but it doesn’t stop him— it’s who he is.

Actually dresses to impress, all of it is casual clothing though. He got the swagger ⁉️😟

Locker is nonexistent. His notes are in his brain.

Baji

He can’t be acting up, his mom would be so disappointed.

He eventually does ditch the poindexter persona with the glasses and slick back hair but he keeps the suit on.

He does, however, stay calm in class and doesn’t act out unless provoked.

Chifuyu tutors his ass (boyfriend moment)

Gets much better with Chifuyu‘s assistance, starts getting mainly A’s with 1 or 2 B’s.

As soon as he ditched the poindexter persona, everyone is either intimidated or into him. Some find him hot, others find him scary as fuck and probably shit their pants as he walks by.

Thinks that EVERYONE is intimidated by him, completely unaware some of his classmates are attracted to him. If you say he’s pretty he’ll freeze-- dont hurt my son please.

When dressing casual he doesn’t give a fuck about what he wears yet somehow looks good??

Boxing club with Chifuyu because it’s an excuse to be the sadist he is

Locker is a mess. Literally papers thrown around. Somehow, he still understands everything.

Mitsuya

Home-economics club, we see this. This is canon. You cannot disagree.

Classmates absolutely join the club just to talk to him and get to know him. 

I’d imagine he’s more on the introverted side, rarely speaks first and usually waits until spoken to. Doesn’t mean he won’t start a conversation though, it’s just rare since he minds his own business.

Very intelligent, I think he’d be the smartest out of these 4. Big overachiever while managing his sisters and being a division captain, this man has got it all.

Everyone admires him and respects him, along with thirsting over him. It’s very rare for him to speak to you first, you can imagine you’d be everyone’s envy if he does because it means you’ve caught his attention

Ultimately known as the “cloth boy” because of how good his sewing is.

Mf in the halls chilling w his music and vibing in his locker, everyone’s just staring at how pretty his side profile is /hakkai moment

Locker is SOOO organized, pretty with a mirror and magnets n shiz.

He dresses casual but my god his designs in his club?? Everyone wants to wear them. Headass would even look good with a wrinkled ass shirt

He knows he’s attractive and knows his impact on people. Tell him he’s pretty and he’ll be like “Oh? Thank you. You’re very pretty as well.” and give you the biggest shit-eating smirk.

Loves messing with people who are attracted to him, but he’ll only really make a move if he genuinely has a crush on you. A big fucking tease this man, I tell you.

a/n: am I posting this at 11pm? yeah. what are YOU gonna do about it?

[fanfic-me-up]

Capture This! || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You walk in on Denki, your best friend of five years, getting off. Two questions: Why is there a picture of you? And why do you want him to take more? 

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content

Word Count: 6k+

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! Thank you @shoutogepi​ and @im-here-for-the-heroes​ for beta reading. Shout out to @whats-her-quirk​ this fic was born from me poppin in during your thirst hours lol

“Lotion? Check. Tissues? Check. Pictures?” 

Denki swallows. 

“Check.”

It’s routine for Denki, really the only ritual he sticks to in his otherwise scatterbrained schedule of kickin’ ass, chilling with friends, and playing Fortnite till ungodly hours of the morning.

But he can’t help it. You’re fucking gorgeous, and Denki has needs - his brain programmed to get off at least three times a day else he can’t function. The first time it happened, he felt a deep sense of shame, twisting his gut, disgusted with himself that he defiled your image. He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week until you had enough and demanded to know what was up. It was the first time he lied to you. 

But one time became two, and three, and suddenly Denki needed an image of you all the time. The one of you looking all pretty in that stupid summer dress was his favorite. You bought it that one time you dragged him to the mall because you needed a “guy’s opinion.” He rushed to the bathroom because if he didn’t get out fast, he was gonna drag you back into the changing room and rip that dress off himself.

You’re adorable, hot, sexy, and absolutely terrifying, wrapped up in one perfect package.

Oh, and did he forget to mention?

Totally off-limits.

This is why Denki has to resort to hanging out with you, listening to you vent about your boy problems, and how you just want to meet “the one” already. Denki’s heart breaks a little more every time you shove him deeper into the friend zone, all the while pretending like he didn’t just jerk it to you a couple hours before.

He works his hand up and down his shaft, growing harder by the second with each stroke. It doesn’t take much to get him going, not when it’s you. You’re wearing his hoodie, toes buried in the sand, roasting a marshmallow in front of a bonfire. You’re smiling at something Kirishima said, Denki doesn’t remember what, because all he could see was the light in your eyes. A genuine spark lit only when the cameras were off, and you were unaware of anyone watching. Denki loved witnessing these rare moments; wanted to commit it to memory, so he did. When you posted the picture on Instagram, Denki was more than surprised; you had scrunched your nose when he showed you the picture, displeased with how you looked.

This should not be happening. Any normal person would feel ashamed when staring at a picture of their best friend and touching themselves. No one knew about it, and Denki was surprised he was able to keep it a secret for this long considering he’s friends with fucking Mina of all people.

Enough pre-cum bubbles at the tip that he doesn’t even need the lotion. Staring at you on the screen, wearing his hoodie that’s way too big it covers your thighs completely, makes his mind wander to all sorts of ways he wishes he could get you out of that hoodie. He leans back into the chair, spreading his legs with his eyes half-lidded, imagining what your lips might look like wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck yeah...”

Groaning at the image of you on your knees, lips bruised and slicked with spit from fucking your pretty little mouth has Denki tightening his fist, hips fucking into his hand in a continuous rhythm. 

He’s on the verge of coming when the door swings open - the first and last person Denki wants to walk in is standing there in front of him.

“Hey, I called, but you didn’t - ah!” You squeak, throwing the box you’re holding. A sea of random knick-knacks and hero merch rains over you. You hear a thump when the yellow polaroid camera you bought for Denki at a thrift shop hits the floor. 

“Fuck!” Denki jumps from his chair, an array of pens fall in a heap to the floor. 

You whip your head away, heat spikes your body, embarrassed that you saw your best friend in such a compromising position. 

Denki mutters a repeated “shit shit shit” to himself for a good minute before he finally addresses you; his voice rising with each word.

“How did you get in here!?”

“Spare key, dumbass!” 

“That’s for emergencies only!”

“Are you talking to me with your dick out!?”

Silence.

“No?”

You huff at the uncertainty in his tone. It’s only two o’clock, and you can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Denki, if I turn around and you’re not covered, so help me god I will-”

“Okay, okay, I got it. Pants are zipped.” 

You don’t move until you hear the confirming “zip” before slowly opening your eyes (you have no idea why your eyes were closed in the first place), and you turn around to find Denki leaning against the desk. He’s trying his best to appear casual, but the flush on his face and frazzled hair give away what he was doing moments before you walked in. You don’t know where it comes from, but the thought alone stirs something inside you.

The confusing emotion is replaced by hot-blooded anger when you lock eyes on the screen behind him.

“Is that my face!?” 

Denki’s smile drops as he turns around. Dammit. Of course, he forgot to close the tab.

“Uhhh…”

He has no words, none, not when you’re standing there with that intense look in your eyes you get when you’re about to rip someone a new one. Your anger could rival Bakugou’s, and Denki has unfortunately been in the middle of one too many screaming matches. He’s surprised his eardrums aren’t blown out by now.

He clicks to exit out, or at least he thinks he does until he comes to the dumb realization that he’s clicking the zoom button instead. 

“Ho-hold on, let me just…” 

With each click, it zooms a little more into your face until only your nose is in the frame. Denki sheepishly looks up at you.

“Oops?”

Denki’s had a good life. He’s already come farther than most ever dream in their career when becoming a pro-hero, and he’s made some amazing friends most spend years trying to find. The only regret of his is not confessing his true feelings to you, but really what’s one regret? He’s totally a-okay with saying goodbye to this cruel, cruel world if it meant not being subjected to this torture any longer. 

“Denki Kaminari.”

Denki gulps. Oh no. You only say his full name when you mean business. 

“Explain right this instant or I will walk out this door and tell the whole world how you and grape boy took body shots off cardboard cutouts of each other!”

“Hey! We were really fuckin’ drunk and thought it might score us some pity sex with the ladies!” 

“In what world would you licking fuckin’ Mineta equal oh yeah, fuck me, Denki?”

Denki cowers with each step you take, gulping down the lump in his throat when your face is close enough to hold in his hands. He’s never been more simultaneously turned on and terrified in his life. Especially when he just heard the words “fuck me, Denki” escape your lips.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Whatever you do. Don’t. Look. Down.

The last thing he wants is you flinging him out the window because he couldn’t keep his eyes on your face. Don’t get him wrong; he could look at your face forever, even when you look like your one move away from killing him. But… he’s a dude, and there’s boobs in front of him, not to mention your boobs.

“Hello? Earth to Denki?” You wave your hand in his face.

“You may wanna sit down for this.” 

“I’m fine where I am, thank you very much.” 

He huffs out a breath, annoyed you didn’t take the bait. The suggestion was more for his sanity than yours. With you standing so close, his brain is going haywire; the tantalizing scent of strawberries and cream short-circuiting his brain quicker than when he overuses his quirk. It never fails to make his mouth water, if only he could bend down and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, god, he’d never let you go.

How does he even begin to work through the feelings he has for you when they’ve been bottled up since the moment he knew he was in deep? Where does he start?

The fact he’s been in love with you for the past five years? 

Or that he’s been getting off to you for half that time? 

Denki’s mind is running a mile a minute, like a computer in overdrive. He can’t make enough sense of his emotions to convert into words. But, instead of waiting to open his mouth, like a normal person, Denki spews out embarrassing word vomit that connects his two thoughts.

“I love getting off to you.”

A pin could drop, and it’d be as loud as a freaking hurricane. 

Denki groans in frustration, facepalming his forehead. What the hell did he just say, and can he take it back? How long would it take for him to hack into a database and find someone with a time manipulation quirk? He doesn’t even know how to hack, but he’d wrangle his one brain cell and fucking learn if that’s what it takes.

He’s usually good at reading you. You’re one of the few people he cares enough to pick up on how you’re feeling. The myriad of emotions that pass on your face from shock to confusion to a hint of amusement lets Denki know he can breathe easy. At least you’re not trying to kill him anymore.

“Oh-kay that’s not what I - what I meant to say was - hold on, lemme just, rewind.”

He makes some weird, loopy gesture with his arms. His brain was firing a million synapses at once, each connected to a different thought, some deep like the fear of losing you and some not so deep - like he’s really excited to eat the cheeseburgers Bakugou promised he’d grill tonight. 

But he tries his best to reign in the million and one thoughts to focus on you, who’s waiting for an explanation. He takes a deep breath to steady his heart that’s about to beat out of his chest. He only hopes you don’t stomp on it after what he’s about to say.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since our first year at U.A. I wanted to tell you for the longest time, but then you got with Bakugou. Then you broke up, and you needed a friend more than ever, and how could I say no to being ‘your best bro’ when you were crying on my shoulder? It was just never the right time.”

The more he rambled, the more uncomfortable he felt. Out of all the scenarios he imagined of how he’d confess to you, this one was at the bottom of his list to be prepared for. He never expected to be forced into confessing because you caught him masturbating to pictures of you. He rubs the back of his neck and gives an awkward laugh when you stay silent.

“I get it if you wanna, like, shun me forever or something. I deserve it for being such a creep.” 

Denki lowers his head to the floor, the clutter of fallen pens and knick-knacks looks way less intimidating than staring into your eyes. A soft hand touches his chin, lifting his face to meet yours.

“Hey, look at me, it’s okay.” 

Your voice does wonders for soothing the nerves shaking him up.

“I guess it’s not that creepy when you put it like that, and for some weird reason, you’re like the one person I can catch jacking off to my pictures, and I don’t feel the need to report you as a registered sex offender.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but Denki’s heart drops at the idea of you labeling him as the neighborhood perv.

“Please, don’t do that,” he squeaks before clearing his throat, “But for real, Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s wrong to disrespect you like that, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

Denki has no idea how he’s gonna get off now, but that’s his future self’s problem.

“I can’t help it, you’re gorgeous, and I love ya, and I don’t remember the last time I got laid.”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that last part, but it’s the truth. You’re the reason he couldn’t even look at another girl, because they weren’t you, and that’s why he had to resort to pulling up pictures of you. Pictures that aren’t normally deemed “sexy” and of you dressed modestly, without much skin showing.

That doesn’t stop Denki from coming in record time with your name rolling off his lips every time.

“How bad do you want me?”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit curious about what sex with your best friend would be like. You heard he wasn’t a bad lay from a couple girls back at U.A. 

You’d also be lying if you didn’t say you were just as horny as said best friend.

It’s difficult finding time to date as a pro-hero. When you do, it doesn’t last very long anyway - the other person growing tired of always coming second to your career. Don’t even get you started on one night stands. They’re practically impossible to uphold as once the media gets wind of it, you’re slapped on the cover of “Hero Times Magazine,” and everyone and their mother is calling for you to “spill the tea.” This is why pro-heroes either end up with other pro-heroes or end up alone. 

Denki’s eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline. If someone were to tell him you were attracted to him in any sense of the word, his heart would double-time it, but he’d ultimately brush it off. He knew your type, and he could not be farther from it. The aggressive, beefy, gym rat who could match you move for move in a heated spar of harsh words and hot-blooded passion. You dated Bakugou for fuck’s sake! There was no hope for Denki after that.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take what he can get. The words pour out of him like the dam’s been broken and the unforgiving flood rushes.

“I want you so bad, Y/N, fuck, I’ve waited so long, so fucking long, you don’t know how crazy you make me.” 

Your breath catches. His words have an unexpected effect on you, but your heart drums in anticipation. If you listen close enough, you can hear Denki’s beating at the same rate, waiting for what you’re going to say next. Power surges through you. In your past relationships, sex was always seen as this competition. Your exes never wanted to relinquish their pride or control, but Denki is nothing like your exes. He’s laid-back, always cracking jokes, and never dwelling too much on the past, always moving forward to the next moment. He’s perfectly fine with letting you take the reins most of the time. You determine what will happen next.

“You love getting off to me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but he answers in earnest.

“You’re the only one I get off to.”

You slide your dress off, and it falls to the floor.

“Show me.”

Denki’s eyes travel over your body, his mouth slightly open in disbelief at your undressed state. He wants to capture this moment in case this is as much as he gets, even if he can never use this mental picture because he promised you he wouldn’t. His fingers itch to brush along the lace trim of your bra, to graze along your nipple, and watch your reaction. Are you sensitive enough where you’d full on moan, or would he have to strain to catch the small hitch of breath? Denki was never top of his class. He preferred to wing it and hope for the best, but for you, he’d take his time to study every inch and crevice of your body until he could read you cover to cover with his eyes closed. His gaze travels down to the matching lace panties you wear, a cute little bow in the front waiting to be untied with his teeth. 

Did you plan to get fucked today? Or do you usually wear matching sets on the regular? 

Your skin looks so soft and supple, he’s aching to dig his fingers, but before he can, you step away. Denki cocks his head. Have you changed your mind? But any doubt leaves Denki when you make your way across the room to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

You start with feather-light touches dancing along your collarbone. Your eyes are locked on Denki, getting high on the way he drinks in your every move. Your touches are teasing, especially when your finger dips down to your cleavage. Still, instead of giving Denki what he wants, you change course, making your way back to your shoulders. Denki exhales a breath at your teasing, but says nothing, too afraid he’ll ruin the mood if he says something stupid. 

When you make your way down again, you don’t disappoint; you pinch your nipple through your bra, and the way Denki swipes his tongue over his lip has heat rushing to your core. You slide your hand down your stomach, stopping when you reach your clothed slit. Denki stares, hungry and buzzing in anticipation for what you’ll do next. Smirking in victory, you spread your legs open and pull your panties to the side, giving him the view to capture the perfect picture of your dripping pussy.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

You taunt breathlessly, tracing your folds with your fingers.

Oh shit. Were you for real? Please, tell him you were for real because he legit might cry if this was some elaborate prank. Where are the fucking cameras? 

“You don’t want to?” You bite your lip, insecurity seeping through the confident smile you wore just a moment ago.

“No! I mean - yes! Yes, I do, holy shit, let me find - where the fuck is…” Denki whips around, trying to find his phone. Fuck! Out of all the times to misplace it, it has to be now. But then he spots the yellow polaroid camera sitting on the floor, and before he can think, he’s picking it up and praying it has film. He kneels, so he’s eye level with your pussy, but also making sure the angle gets your whole body in the frame. The light streaming in gives you an ethereal look, your skin glowing, and adding to the cute flush on your cheeks. The camera clicks, and a second later, the picture slides out. You giggle at Denki’s impatience. He’s waving the picture frantically in the air, so the color comes through faster. He completely stills when he can finally take a good look at the beauty he’s captured.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look…” 

Denki can’t control the groan that escapes. He looks back up at you, eyes darkened with lust before he’s ripping his shorts off so fast, his foot gets caught, and he almost trips in the process. Once he’s out of them, he plops back down in the chair across the room. You’re surprised when all you feel is pure, unadulterated lust. You expected to be at least a little bit weirded out staring at your best friend’s cock, but all you want is to put it in your mouth and explore all the different ways you can make him come. The tip is oozing pre-cum already, and the way he works his hand with a sense of urgency suggests he’s been hard for a while. It doesn’t take long before you hear Denki grunt.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You look so pretty spread out for him. For the last five years, he wanted nothing more than to see you like this. His hips jerk up, and he throws his head back, but he makes sure to keep his eyes open like his life depended on it; he didn’t want to miss a second of this. You, with your legs wide open giving him a view of your perfect little pussy. Your panties soaked by you rubbing your clit mercilessly, and your pupils blown wide as you watch your best friend get off to the show you’re giving him. It’s erotic as hell, completely different from the pictures Denki has of you. This one easily tops all the others. He tightens his fist - he doesn’t want it to end without feeling your skin on his at least once.

“Let me touch you, Y/N, please, I just wanna touch you, need to feel you.” 

Denki doesn’t give a fuck that he’s begging at this point. He’s waited too damn long to care about pride or dignity, not when the chance to fuck you is placed in his shaking hands. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, but it comes out anyway.

“Touch me.” 

That’s all Denki needs. Before you know it, you’re pushed down on the bed, and lips smash against yours. He’s eager, a little too eager, shoving his tongue in your mouth and touching everywhere that he can. You don’t have much room to breathe, so you gently push at his chest.

“Chill, Denki.”

He huffs out a breath, muscles shaking like he’s restraining himself from overwhelming you.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” 

He mumbles, peppering kisses into your neck before making his way back to your lips. It’s much smoother this time, his tongue sliding out to tease your bottom lip, asking for permission this time. He groans when you open up for him, your tongue meeting his. Hands trail up until they reach around, resting on the clasp of your bra. Honey eyes meet yours, but you cut off his question.

“I’ll stop you if I need to, but you asking me if it’s okay every time you try something is gonna seriously kill the mood.” 

You reach around to place your hands on top of his, unclasping your bra along with him. His eyes darken at the sight of your bare chest. You try not to squirm at the intensity of his gaze. It becomes near impossible when he dips down to flick his tongue over your nipple before biting with his teeth. He pays the same attention to the other one before kissing his way down your stomach. You arch your back when he spreads your legs and positions himself between them. He makes his way around, avoiding your dripping pussy, teasing your thighs with soft kisses. You huff in annoyance, and he smirks up at you, biting into the flesh of your thigh. This time he places a kiss to your heated center, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. 

“Is it everything you imagined?” You ask.

He looks up at you, with such a serious expression, one you’ve only seen a couple times since knowing him.

“Everything and more.”

Your heart flutters, and you know you’re going to say something you’ll regret if you don’t stop counting the different shades of gold in his eyes. You clear your throat before throwing your hair back.

“You gonna fuck me, or am I gonna have to do it myself?”

You pull his head in for a demanding kiss, biting on his lip to distract yourself from the rush of bubbling emotions threatening to surface.

“One sec,” Denki whispers, placing one last kiss to your lips, before getting up.

You gape at the giant box of condoms he casually pulls out. It hasn’t been opened, and oh my god, you didn’t even know they made huge boxes like this. There were at least a hundred in there. What person thinks to buy a big box of condoms if their plans don’t include… fucking a whole ass army? 

“What the fuck, Denki?” 

People usually have one, maybe two condoms in their wallet at most. Some guys don’t have any at all, which kills the mood when you’re in the heat of the moment, so I guess you can be thankful that Denki is... extra prepared?

“What?” 

He pulls a condom out and drops the box. It thumps when it hits the floor. You’re taken aback by how nonchalant he’s being about this.

“I- you- wha- How many times do you think we’re gonna do it!?” 

Denki slides the condom on, smirking at your shocked expression.  

“Till we finish this box,” he says as he slides into you. 

You gasp at the stretch. He pushes to the hilt, and stays there when he notices the slight furrow of your brow. It has been a while since you’ve fucked, but soon enough, you crave more so you roll your hips, but he doesn’t move.

“Denki?” 

His head is pressed into your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and the stuttering heartbeat matches to the beat of your own. 

“Just… gimme a minute, don’t wanna ruin it by coming in two seconds.” 

His words are muffled, voice raspy with desire, and you can only imagine what his face looks like. It makes you want him all the more. Finally, someone who doesn’t see sex as an opportunity to one-up you or to put you in your place. It’s scary how the last twenty minutes have changed five years of friendship.

“Hey,” you hold his face in between your palms. He already looks completely fucked out with his face flushed and eyes glazed. You place a tender kiss to his lips, unlike the previous kisses you shared. 

“You couldn’t ruin it even if you did come right now.”

You caress his hair in an attempt to reassure him.

“You’d just have to make it up to me,” you wink.

His smile is so pure, lighting up his eyes that’s unique to Denki; it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest. But the moment passes as the previous heat between you two spikes when Denki circles his hips, taking his time to feel you inside and out. He’s touching and kissing you wherever he can, your cheek, neck, chest, thighs, like it’s the first and last time he’ll experience you like this. It might very well be. 

This thought doesn’t sit well with you.

Once he’s mapped out your sweet spots, he digs his fingers into your thighs and pulls your hips flush towards his. He pulls out of you until only the tip is brushing your opening and pounds back into you, taking your breath away. He pumps in and out of you faster, and you cry out when he hits that special spot deep inside of you.

“Denki,” you moan. He grunts and spreads your legs even wider, grabbing one and hauling it over his shoulder to pound into you deeper.

He’s getting close, hell, he’s been close even before you walked in. 

“F-fuck…” Denki groans, thrusting at an uneven pace and feeling the familiar tightening in his groin.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you flip him over and begin bouncing on his cock in a much more steady rhythm. Denki’s staring up at you, eyes wide in admiration.

You’re a goddess. An absolute fucking masterpiece that needs to be put in a museum for his eyes only. God, when did he get so fucking mushy? You always brought out different sides that Denki, himself, didn’t even know he had. He can’t keep his hands off you, grabbing your boobs, sliding down the curves of your thighs, gripping your ass. He wants to commit it all to memory in case he never gets to know this pleasure again. 

“Y/N, ah, shit, I’m gonna...” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.

He’s holding on to that sweet release for as long as he can. He’s been craving it since he met you on the first day of class at U.A. His balls tighten, unable to hold it in any longer, before he gives in to the long overdue orgasm. It hits him hard - his entire body tingling from head to toe like 1000 volts of electricity bolt through him. Denki had no idea he could come for this long, but he doesn’t want it to end - it feels so fucking good inside you. He rides it out for a couple more thrusts before he relaxes, completely sated. You try to pull off him, but he grabs your hips and forces you back down. You squeak, clearly not expecting him to care enough to help you out after he finished.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The tone of his voice sounds foreign in his ears, too gruff and too deep, but you seem to have no problems with it as you moan in response, working yourself on top of him. Your thighs crush his hips, shaking with need as you seek a release of your own. You’re tired from bouncing, so you resort to grinding, swirling your hips deliciously around his cock. Denki squeezes your ass in appreciation.

“You close?” 

“Close, so close, Denki, please…”

Your eyes well up with tears, desperate to finish; the coil in your stomach wound too tight that you might burst any second. Denki helps you by thrusting his hips to meet yours, his hand rubbing your clit. You jolt at the sudden zap to your clit, you look down to see a small spark leave Denki’s fingertip. He does it again, and you cry out, your pussy fluttering from the electrifying touch.

“C’mon, baby, you can do it, come for me.” 

Fuck. Denki didn’t mean for the pet name to slip out, but then you’re moaning louder than before that Denki would’ve had to quiet you if you weren’t alone. Words are tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Oh, fuck, Denki, I love this so much, I love you, I-” 

You slap your hand over your mouth. Denki’s eyes widen for a second before a dangerous glint takes over, and he wretches your hand away from your mouth.

“Lemme hear you. C’mon, Y/N, show me how much you love this.”

You hardly recognize the scream as your own; you flush at how loud you are, but Denki doesn’t seem to mind. It seems to spur him on. He sits up so your chest to chest before he bends down to tug at your nipple with his teeth. You throw your head back in pleasure, your hands coming around to grab at his hair. Golden eyes look up at you from your chest, a slight smirk curving his lips.

“I’m no photographer, baby girl, but I can sure as hell picture us together.”

Leave it to Denki Kaminari to make you come with a cheesy pickup line. 

He gives one final thrust, balls slapping against your ass and hitting the spot deep inside you just right. Your thighs quiver from the pleasure wracking your body, a scream lodging out of your throat so loud that the people next door bang on the wall. You’re overwhelmed to the point that all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, whispering his name in a broken whimper as you finish. 

You fall next to him on the bed, sweaty and completely wiped, both of you trying to catch your breath. Denki tosses the condom in the trash while you stare at the ceiling, watching the fan swirl round and round. Your mind is no different at the moment, going round in circles, and you’re trying to catch up. Your body feels weightless, tingling all over and loving the high you didn’t think was possible. The bed shifts, and suddenly you’re faced with your best friend of five years. Before he can get a word out, the front door slams shut, and two very familiar, very masculine voices are down the hall, getting closer by the second. 

“Kaminari, you lazy shit, get the fuck down here!”

“Shit!” Denki jumps from the bed, ruffling through the mess to find his pants.

“Denki, just lock the door! Hurry!”

It’s too late as the door swings open, and yeah… if today taught Denki anything, it’s that he really needs to lock his door more often. He doesn’t have time to think as he hops back into bed with you to avoid flashing any of his other friends today. Bakugou would probably threaten to chop his dick off and… yeah, Denki doesn’t wanna think about the rest.

You squeak and cover yourself with the blanket when you’re met with two sets of equally shocked crimson eyes.

Kirishima drops the bag of chips he’s holding. It seems like dropping things when walking into Denki’s room was a common theme today, and he’s sure as hell not looking forward to the cleanup. Denki regrets chancing a glance at Bakugou; nostrils flaring like a rabid predator on the loose and Denki’s his target.

The four of you stare at each other for who knows how long before Kirishima breaks out into a full-on grin.

“About time, bro, congrats!” 

“Congrats?” You turn to Denki, confused.

“The fuck!? You bangin’ my ex, dunceface!?” Bakugou shouts.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Denki squeaks, hiding underneath the covers.

“Oi! You fuck like a man, you better fight like one, too!”

You roll your eyes, hardly affected by Bakugou’s exploding presence, unlike Denki, who is literally shaking beside you.

“Oh fuck off, Katsuki, listen to yourself. Keyword ex-girlfriend.”

Bakugou sputters, and Kirishima drags him by the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s been in a mood since he found out he’s gonna be the next star of the Bachelor.” 

“You wanna die too, shitty hair!?” 

You and Denki burst out laughing at the absurdity of Katsuki forced to act like a gentleman on live TV. The image of Katsuki in a suit and tie, holding a rose and actually smiling, is comedic gold to you.

“C’mon, bro, let’s give ’em some space.” 

“Oi! You’re on my shit list now! All of you! Aye! Get the fuck off me!”

Kirishima drags Bakugou the rest of the way, giving you a quick thumbs up on the way out.

You and Denki are still cracking up, but your laughter dies when they leave, and you’re faced with the tension from before. Denki sinks lower into the sheets, hating that he keeps getting walked in on. Who decided it was ‘make a fool out of Denki day’ anyway?

“So…” you start.

“So…” Denki finishes. 

You both stare straight ahead at nothing. 

“Did you mean it?” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly asking him to elaborate.

“What you said, when you... you know...” he makes a clicking noise with his mouth like that’s universal code for fucking, “Or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” 

You take a moment to think before you give your response. You want to be as honest as possible, and not lead Denki on in any way. Of course, you loved him, he’s your best friend, but did you love him? 

You think back on your friendship, and suddenly a supercut of all the times he was there for you flashes before your eyes. He was there when you needed someone to drive you when you had your wisdom teeth pulled out. You didn’t expect Denki to stay with you the whole weekend, buying you ice cream and watching your favorite movies, but he did. 

He was there when you and Bakugou became an item, always listening to you swoon over how amazing a boyfriend he was. Denki would always respond with “But can he do this?” and would proceed to overuse his quirk like an overpowered Pikachu just to make you laugh. It sends a knife through your heart, knowing Denki was in love with you while you were talking about how great of a boyfriend his friend was. Not to mention how he was there when you and Bakugou broke up, heart-broken and vowing to swear off boys for good. Denki held you in his arms while you cried, staying silent the entire time, which you knew was against his nature. Denki was always there for you as a friend. There’s no doubt he’d be there for you as a lover.

“I meant it,” you say.

Tears threaten to spill, and your heart might burst out of your chest and land right into his hands. You hope he holds on to it forever. He squishes your cheeks and leans down to plant the softest kiss on your lips. This is what you’ve been missing - more like who you’ve been missing. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss, and he meets you move for move. He pulls away, hands still on your cheeks, grazing your cheekbones with his fingertips as he stares into your eyes. 

“Denki, I…” You bite your lip, overcome with emotion. You desperately want to say the words to capture this picture-perfect moment forever. 

Until you feel something poking your thigh.

“Denki!” 

You yell, affronted he popped a boner in the middle of what was supposed to be a romantic moment.

“Sorry!”

“Ugh! Worst timing ever!” You slap his shoulder.

“Ow! I said I’m sorry!”

You wiggle out of his embrace. Silence eats at the room, and you can feel Denki’s energy radiating in uncomfortable frequencies. The last moment had been thoroughly ruined.

But you have all the time in the world to make more.

“... round two?” 

Just seeing Denki’s face light up like Christmas is enough to promise the birth of a new moment. He bends over to grab his box of condoms, some spilling on the floor and adding more to the mess, before saying, “hell yeah!”

You roll your eyes with affection. What a weirdo, you think. But he’s your weirdo.

That night, or rather the next day since it was currently three in the morning, Denki plops down on his bed exhausted from the day. He’s fluffing his pillow, trying to get comfortable, when he feels something underneath. His eyes widen when he takes in the picture he’s holding. You must’ve taken it when he was downstairs and snuck it under his pillow. You’re bent over with that same damn lacy bra that sends him for a loop. Your cleavage deliciously on display as you bite your lip and stare at the camera with those innocent eyes. Denki can’t help it, his hand sliding down on instinct and cupping himself through his boxers. He turns the picture around and smiles at the cute little message written on the back.

“To add to your collection 😉”

[goldentsum]

━ seeing their idol in real life

REQUEST: oh my— i am THINKING. i was reading your idol!reader thirst posts, and i started thinking about how some of the haikyuu boys took part in the olympics and the olympics always have a half-time type of musical performance.. how would the boys react to seeing their idol crush in person o.O

🎕 asked by: nonnie 🎕

CHARACTERS: bokuto koutarou, hinata shouyo, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, kageyama tobio, ushijima wakatoshi, yaku morisuke, oikawa tooru, and iwaizumi hajime

GENRE: fluff, slight secondhand embarrassment 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: BRUH THIS IS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE OMF-! the format is different though so i hope that’s okay! <3

captains ver. | setters ver. | middleblockers ver | wingspikers ver. | libero ver. | spin-off ver.

THE ONE WHO SCREAMS THE MOMENT THEY SEE YOU AS YOU STEP ON STAGE: BOKUTO 

￫ please, the whole stadium was screaming but bokuto’s scream is by far the loudest and the one who you will hear above everything else. 

￫ he’s just so proud as you perform and bokuto will sing along with you so loudly that his teammates are lowkey embarrassed to be with him omg

￫ HE EVEN KNOWS THE DANCE STEPS PLS! HE WILL DANCE WITH YOU IN THE CORNER WITH A WIDE GRIN ON HIS LIPS

bokuto: [dancing in the dark on the corner]

tsum: wtf did i just witnessed 

￫ he’s not even embarrassed. not one bit. that’s how much he loves you

￫ BUT he doesn’t know how to talk to you. he will literally just stare at you with wide eyes and a massive blush on his face. his teammates will take charge and tell you that he likes you! 

￫ if you ever give him you’re number, HE WILL OGLE AT IT FOR THE WHOLE NIGHT AND COO ENDEARINGLY

GAPES IN AWE AS THEY FEEL LIKE THEY’RE GONNA PUKE WITH HOW NERVOUS THEY ARE: HINATA

￫ poor boy is so nervous to see you so close D:< 

￫ hinata will watch in awe for your whole performance as he whisper the lyrics under his breath 

￫ when you were going to the side, CLOSE TO THEIR SIDE, he was shaking and his face was CHERRY RED! 

￫ AND WHEN YOU PASSED HIM TO EXIT, HE CAUGHT YOUR PERFUME AND HE WAS SHOOKTH! YOU SMELLED SO GOOD!

kags: what’s with the dumb look on your face?

hinata: [dazed]

kags: ... i think this dumbass isn’t breathing

yaku: wHAT

￫ when the team met you backstage of the stadium, HE REALLY THOUGHT HE WAS GONNA PUKE BECAUSE OF HOW NERVOUS HE WAS! 

￫ hinata’s heart is beating a mile per second! and when your eyes met? rip hinata.

WILL TRY TO FLIRT WITH YOU BUT THEN WILL GET FLUSTERED AFTER YOU FLIRT BACK: ATSUMU, OIKAWA

￫ they are the epitome of

them: *flirts* 

you: *flirts back*

them: 👁👄👁 ❗❗

you: well?

them: i didn’t think i’ll get this far tbh

￫ THEY WILL TURN SO AWKWARD! omg what have you done gurl D:

￫ atsumu will probably try to salvage what’s left of his confidence but it will turn more awkward than before so you’re just like: “omg why”

￫ atsumu’s so embarrassed and it’ll be worse if his brother is there! osamu will tease the fuck out of him! 

￫ the poor older twin will get nightmares about it and will wake up in cold sweat (so dramatic ik)

samu: lol remember when you creeped out (y/n)

tsum: I DIDN’T CREEPED HER OUT!!

samu: yeah you did

￫ oikawa will remain as awkward as ever! I MEAN COME ON! you’re not like the other girls he flirted with! YOU’RE HIS LIGHT! HIS ANGEL! HIS EVERYTHING!!! 

￫ iwaizumi will see this and try to help this hopeless idiot but will make it worse (PFT) 

￫ oikawa got a hug tho so it’s a win! <3 

tooru: (y/n) smelled really good and their hands are so soft 

iwa: wtf you creep

tooru: (´；д；)

TRIES TO ACT SUBTLE BUT IS ACTUALLY SO OBVIOUS WITH THEIR STARING AND THE RED BLUSH ON THEIR FACE IS TOO EVIDENT TO BE IGNORED:  KAGEYAMA, sakusa

￫ KAGEYAMA WILL TRY NOT TO BE OBVIOUS AS HE WATCH YOU BUT HIS EYES ARE LITERALLY SHINING

￫ he feels embarrassed when he remembers his thirst tweets about you omg! his face will erupt with the reddest hue you will ever see

￫ HIS SENTENCE ISN’T EVEN COHERENT AT ALL

kags: unff- kfnw-... likefn-! 

hinata: are you dumb?

kags: YOU LITTLE SHIT-!

￫ kageyama will only go back to his normal self when hinata roasted him but will completely forget when you passed them and smiled AT HIM!! 

￫ HE WILL TRY TO SMILE BACK BUT HIS SMILE LOOK SO STIFF that it’s oddly cute wtf D:

￫ NOW SAKUSA, he’s a stoic mofo. we all know that. BUT WHEN IT COMES TO YOU, IT JUST FLIES OUT OF THE WINDOW

￫ omiomi didn’t even consider that he will ever meet you so when he saw you in the stage for the intermission, HE WAS SHOOKTH!

￫ his blush will worsen when he sees your outfit. you just look so beautiful and so soft and clean D:

bokuto: OMIOMI ARE YOU SICK??

omi: [blush is gone in an instant] [scowls] no. get away from me.

￫ but when you met them backstage, he will try to get closer to you.. he also stands straight to separate him from the crowd and make you look at him

WILL ACT AS IF EVERYTHING IS NORMAL BUT INSIDE THEY’RE SCREAMING: IWAIZUMI, ushijima

￫ iwaizumi wants to appear stoic and manly in front of you, this cute bub D:

￫ you’re just so perfect in his eyes and he wants to make a GREAT impression 

￫ BUT THE MOMENT YOU SMILED AT HIM, his stoic exterior cracks and his heart is putty! 

iwa: yeah, i’m the trainer

you: oh wow! that’s so cool! [smiles]

iwa: ...i love you

you: what? 

iwa: i said i love the color blue. your shirt, its pretty 

￫ smooth iwa... smooth

￫ USHIJIMA IS THE EPITOME OF STOIC so him being flustered? ITS ONCE IN A BLUE MOON BUT ITS ALWAYS BECAUSE OF YOU

￫ you’re just so much smaller than him. he is a huge dude so everything about you was so small and pretty that it makes his heart ache

￫ despite his blank intimidating face, his heart is actually pounding super hard in his chest 

￫ ushi just wants to pick you up and stare at you all day D:

ushi: ...cute

the team: did you say something, ushijima?

ushi: i said moo

the team: 

THE ONE WHO WILL TRY TO IMPRESS YOU: YAKU

￫ YOU CAN’T TELL ME YAKU WON’T TRY TO IMPRESS YOU-! HE’S A LEO FFS! 

￫ he just loves you so much D: you’re so talented and pretty and so so so kind. a total wife material

￫ in the court, he will try his best and try to impress you! the team will notice tbh

￫ when you met them, you congratulate them for the win and you praised him! HIM! YAKU! 

￫ HIS HEART WILL MELT! you just sound so genuine and the lovely smile on your pink lips was making it hard to breath D:

you: you all did great! yaku-san, you looked really cool out there!

yaku: i-i.. um.. thank you, (y/n)-san

￫ HE CAN’T BELIEVE HE SAID YOUR NAME! yaku say your name all the time but this time it’s different. YOU’RE THERE WITH HIM AND YOU CAN HEAR HIM! 

[isaacthedruid]

PART 6: OUT OF CONTEXT FOOLISH QUOTES

[PART 1] [PART 7]

"It's okay, I like sand...I'm like the opposite of Anakin.”

"Enderman, get yourself an umbrella, dawg.”

“Don’t tango with me, you don’t want this heat.”

“I’m DaBaby.”

“Please don’t eat sand.”

“How does an LGBTQ poll work?”

Taking about eating sand, “Maybe if you add barbecue sauce to it then maybe it’ll taste good.”

“You know what rhymes with war? Weed.”

Taking about himself, “Your streamer is stupid.”

“WAIT! Is Captain Sparklez jacked?”

Talking about high school awards, “I won best laugh.”

“Everyone knows that BBH is Big Daddy.”

"Walt Disney once said: don’t fuck with the mouse."

“Quackity's like- a liar. He's got his discord kittens now.”

After being sent a GNF thirst edit, “Who thought I wanted to see a Gogy edit?”

“Don’t language me. Don't you- Don't you fucking language me”

"Mmm monkey.”

"I'm gonna grab that fat back!"

“Typically, I’m kind of a greedy bastard.”

Sniffs, then in a Mickey Mouse voice, “Poggers!”

Reading a dono about ABBA, “Do I know A B Bae Yah?”

“Are we talking about Eurovision or are we talking about bread?”

Dono: I’m almost level 69

Foolish, softly: Ha ha ha, poggers

“I’m out of water, oh no! Just kidding, I brought Gatorade instead!”

“I’m just behind on my Harry Styles lore apparently.”

Ponk: Do you know how much a Supreme hand will cost?

Foolish: idk 5

“Do polar bears go moo?”

“Is that a fucking strip pole?”

Talking about the chat, “My little doozer dumbasses.”

“Lets say, I gamble away Foolish Jr”

“Absolute kindness is a weakness here, sadly enough. I wish there were another way.”

"I will meow at 50 gifted subs, but I draw the line at quacking.”

“Technically I don’t think we’re supposed to breed.”

“I wish I could have Phil’s head.”

“Do i just keep hopping on it until he becomes my friend?”

Wearing Wilbur’s head, “Dad?”

Phil [in reference to the heads DreamXD gave Foolish]: gib

Foolish: i can’t gib

Phil: I will cry

“Phil, do you like shrooms??”

“We’re getting sick of your shit, Pablo [Picasso].”

“I didn't mean to kill them. Whoopsie!”

“What’s a river?”

Foolish: I have a manager? :D

Philza, dying: you Should

“Hello. It’s simple. It’s H-E-double L-hockey sticks-O.”

“I’m sick of time! I’m gonna stop it.

"I don't know what the UK even is.”