#and no one will be able to find the pic of me with the reblog

[solitaireships]

Putting an actual pic of me below the cut

[dmdoll]

.

[perfectdagger]

🤡🤡🤡

[megamindsecretlair]

Yall I can’t stop thinking bout Fontaine. Like quiet but nasty ass freak deek Fontaine. Who’s obsessed with his lil shy (secretly equally nasty) gf and her glasses.

Fontaine has a need to cum on her glasses literally anytime she gives him head.

It plays in his head every time she finds herself on her knees for him. But he’s too scared it’ll be too much for reader. Till one day (completely incidental) it happens

Corruption kink go brrrrrr. My mind ain’t took it no further than that quite yet but the fundamentals are set up 😭

Anyway ♥️ freak deek Fontaine 😩

A/N: I see ya'll with these asks! Forgive me for combining them.

You Already Know

Pairing: Fontaine x Glasses!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, oral (male receiving) all consensual. Apologies to those with peanut allergies, lactose intolerant, or just don't like milk.

Summary: See asks.

Word Count: 2,974k

AO3 Link

A/N: John has got to STOP with all these workout vids and pics. He is TEWW fine. Please enjoy the brainrot with me!!!! Toss a coin to your blogger by commenting, reblogging, or leaving an unhinged ask.

“What you doin,’ baby?” Fontaine asked when he freshened up after being outside all day and night. He came home roughly twenty minutes ago, smelling like outside. He gave you a quick kiss and made a beeline to the shower because he knew that you liked him most when he smelled clean and fresh.

Silly man. You’d suck his dick even if he was filthy and outside all day. You’d bend over if he walked in the house, covered in God knew what, and told you to assume the position. You just weren’t always good at expressing that.

You looked up from the couch to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against his arm. He wore a black tank and black basketball shorts, tattoos on full display and his mouth gleaming with those gold grills you love so much. You sighed as you stared, taking in his physique and his stance. 

“Just watching a movie,” you said, fixing your glasses to get a better look at him. It was either smudges in the way or your body was starting to overheat looking at that hunk of man. It still blew your mind. You got to kiss and claim that man any time you wanted.

“What you watchin’? You hungry?” He asked. He straightened up and rubbed his stomach. He’d been hitting the gym a lot more lately, needing to bulk up to deal with his enemies out in the streets. Your one rule with him was that he always came home. No matter what he had to do. 

“I’m okay,” you said. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You had been sitting here, enjoying your day off doing absolutely fuckin’ nothing, and was perfectly fine. The minute Fontaine walked in, you’d had an entire ache in your lower belly.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He asked.

You hummed to yourself and then looked at the clock beneath the TV. You paused the movie, since you weren’t watching, and hummed some more.

“That’s too long. I’ma make us some sandwiches,” he said. 

You called after him but he was already heading down the hall to the kitchen. You heard the cabinets and drawers banging around as he went to work. What was it with men and sandwiches? You giggled and shook your head, trying to lay back down and still be comfortable with your glasses on. 

Maybe you ought to switch to contacts. Just once, you’d like to be able to lay on your side and still see the TV. You hummed and thought it over. Naw, Fontaine seemed completely against the idea of contacts. He liked your glasses and you happened to like them too. But still. 

A few minutes later, Fontaine came into the room carrying two plates with sandwiches and cups of milk. Well, yours could be classified as a sandwich. His was some kind of tower. He had multiple layers of peanut butter sticking out from between his bread slices. You shook your head at him as he placed the cups down on the wooden coffee table.

“Thank you, baby. I will never know where you put all that,” you said. You sat up on the couch and the blue and pink plaid throw blanket slid to your lap. You put your cold feet on the ground. Even after being under the covers all day, your feet were still icy. 

Fontaine leaned down and kissed your forehead, making you tingle all over. Then, he sat on the couch beside you and handed you your plate. Extra peanut butter, just as you liked it. You took a big bite and moaned at the taste. It’d been too long since you had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

“Right down the hatch, my love. What you watchin’?” He asked.

You told him you were watching Damsel on Netflix, told him who was in it, and a brief synopsis. “But what you feel like watching?” You asked. 

“Naw, put that on,” he said. He chewed and you watched the way his jaw flexed. Your boyfriend was so serious all the time. Oftentimes quiet. That was initially what drew you to him in the first place. So few men were quiet. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. Your man was more into Black cinema or action movies. Something like this, starring the little white girl from Stranger Things, was not on his list of must sees. 

“I’m sure. C’mon. I just wanna snuggle with my girl,” he said. He glanced at you and his eyes softened. 

You grinned, cheeks hurting with the effort. You bumped your shoulder to his and then kissed his massive shoulder. You took a tiny hint of his scent. Crisp mountain air. You also got to admire his body up close.

The absolutely disgusting, filthy, animalistic things you wanted to do to this man. He had no clue. Sadly, because you started stuttering and mumbling whenever you began thinking of all of your dirty fantasies. Let alone try to tell him about it so he could do those things to you.

“You know I always wanna snuggle with you. But we can turn it off whenever you want,” you said.

He took a huge bite out of his sandwich, already halfway done and you’d only taken a few bites. He licked his lips, licking away peanut butter that you desperately wanted to do for him. 

“Naw, how far you get?” He asked. He licked his thumb and used his clean fingers to toggle the remote and show the remaining time. You were only fifteen minutes into it. You kept pausing to listen to the shower, to see how long he was going to take. 

“You mind running it back?” He asked.

You shook your head and then lapsed into comfortable silence with your man. You started the movie over and scooted back on the couch.  

Fontaine finished his in about three bites, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He spread his arms around the arm and back of the couch, man spreading and bumping your knee with his. You finished your sandwich a lot slower, enjoying the feel of him next to you. 

Everywhere he touched, just lit up another dirty fantasy in your mind. Taking him in your mouth, taking him from behind. Or him tying you up and having his way with you. The possibilities were endless. 

You had to finish sometime, so you polished off the last bite and chased it with the rest of the milk. You smacked your lips and stretched. Fontaine grabbed your shoulders and you squeaked.

“Fontaine!” You said and tapped his arm. He chuckled and grabbed you anyway, pulling you to lay against him. 

“My bad, baby,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You pushed your glasses back up your nose and kissed his chin. He grinned and kissed your temple. You settled back against him, getting lost into the movie. Angela Bassett always looked damn good. Just radiant and glowing all the time. You admired seeing a Black woman in a fantasy gown, when Fontaine shifted.

Wordlessly, you followed his lead, standing up so that he could stretch out on the couch. He pulled you by the hand to lay next to him and you giggled softly. Once you were in front of him, you pulled the throw blanket over both of your legs. 

He shook out his right foot with a groan and then both you nudged and pushed until you were both comfortable. You focused back on the movie, loving how pretty it was. 

Throughout the movie, Fontaine was more into it than you were. He was asking you questions. He knew you didn’t like to spoil but you got a thrill whenever he was genuinely into your little movie. 

You sighed and adjusted yourself on the couch, pushing your ass into his dick. A low groan escaped him and he put his hand on your hip to keep you from moving. But you felt that bulge on your ass. You adjusted again, intentionally rubbing your ass. He groaned again, putting more strength behind his grip and stilling your movements.

“Alright, now,” he said.

You giggled and adjusted your glasses, adjusting yourself one more time. He started to growl and you giggled again. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” you said. 

Fontaine hummed and slipped his hand under your pajama shirt. This was something new he started a few months ago, randomly slipping his hand underneath and grabbing your titty like a stress ball or something. He tried to pull it away then but you told him to keep it there, testing the waters. 

Fontaine only kissed behind your ear and had been slipping his hand underneath ever since. Mostly it wasn’t sexual, he just liked warming his hand underneath your titties. But other times….like now…Fontaine’s fingers found your nipples and he began to play with them. Rolling them between his fingers. Pinching.

You bit your lip, biting back the lewd moan that wanted to escape your throat. Your pussy throbbed. Pulsating at each tug of his fingers. You adjusted against his crotch, rubbing your ass against him.

He moaned but otherwise made no other sound acknowledging what you were doing. He continued to tug and rub, making you clench your thighs and rub them together. He moved his lips to your ear, letting you hear his breathing. His quiet moans. That tiny whimper. 

The movie swam in your vision. You were having trouble relaxing with Fontaine’s hands on you. His large arms around you. The heaviness of him. Your essence leaked out of you thinking of him on top. 

You continued to dry hump on him. Way more than what was necessary. You whimpered yourself, rubbing your ass against his growing hardness. Fontaine rolled your earlobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. 

You whimpered more. Fontaine moved his fingers from your nipples, down your smooth stomach, and then slipped beneath your shorts and underwear. His fingers teased through your pussy lips, growling when he found you wet. 

The second his finger touched your clit, you finally moaned and pushed back into his dick. “Aw, my poor needy, baby,” he cooed in your ear. 

“‘Taine,” you moaned. 

“Watch the movie,” he said.

“I can’t,” you said.

“Watch the movie,” he said again, slowing his fingers. He dragged them lazily through your wet folds and you shivered in his touch.

You focused on the TV, focused on the middle of the movie where things were starting to look up for the main character. But Fontaine’s fingers were starting to pick up again, gathering up all your wet slick, making it echo in the tiny living room. 

Smacking noises grew louder as Fontaine played with your pussy. Your orgasm was always just out of reach. Every time you got close, when you started whimpering, grabbing hold of his wrist, he’d pull his fingers back and play with a different area.

Over and over, he got you close to the peak and then withdrew right before your orgasm took over. You were a whimpering mess, no longer caring about the damn movie. “‘Taine, please,” you moaned.

Fontaine stuck his thumb in your mouth, his massive arm coming around your neck and squeezing. You sucked and whimpered around his thumb, wrapping your lips and sucking hard like you wanted to do to his dick. 

Fontaine moved his fingers faster, harder, flicking against your clit with all your slickness. You were so wet. So loud. You whimpered and cried, opening your mouth further to moan and move your hips. 

“Look at that ass go,” Fontaine said in your ear. “You ain’t as innocent as you claim, huh?” He asked.

You nodded. You were innocent. But this mind of yours? Oh, it was always on demon time. You passed time thinking of sex with your man. Thinking of him bending you over in inappropriate places and threatening anybody that looked. You daydreamed of him pulling your hair while giving lethal backshots. 

He plunged his fingers into your pussy, pushing two deep. You cried out, but willingly accepted his fingers. “Oh, god,” you moaned while your orgasm rushed through you like a rapid river. You were a leaf, pulled along the current.

You whined and moaned, a crying, loud sound. You trapped his hand between your legs. Your body was out of your control, shaking and twitching. Fuck, you couldn’t even breathe. 

You sucked in air as you finally came down and your pussy stopped spasming. Your thighs relaxed and Fontaine slipped his fingers out with a deep hum. He made sure all five of his fingers grazed your sensitive clit on his way out. You twitched and moaned.

Fontaine’s chuckle was low and deep as he licked his fingers. “Get on them knees for me, baby,” he said.

You nodded. Not an ounce of strength in your body but you managed to slide off of the couch. Fontaine sat up and opened his legs on either side of you. You scooted in between, rubbing his thighs and biting your lips. 

“Fuck, you look sexy like this,” he said. He pulled his underwear off and slid them down his thighs. You didn’t want to wait that long. You leaned down and took his dick in your hands, wrapping it around his base.

He groaned and looked at you. “Do what you did yesterday,” he said and licked his lips. 

Your pussy clenched and you scooted closer. You got low to his tip and watched him as you kissed his tip. He bit his lip and moaned, jutting his hips out. 

You took him into your mouth and sucked on him like a lollipop. You slobbered and slurped it up, rolling your tongue around his tip. “Fuuuck,” he groaned. 

He kept moving his hands. Either they were clenched, or he was cracking his knuckles, or he crossed his arms. You watched his face, fighting to keep his eyes open. But also fighting something else? Was he okay?

You took his dick out and used your hands to get his shaft wet. “Are you okay?” You asked.

Fontaine nodded. “That mouth of yours,” he panted. 

You giggled. “You can put your hands on me, you know,” you said quietly, not quite looking at his face anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

You nodded, looking towards what you were doing to his dick. He stilled your hands. “Aye, look at me and use your words,” he demanded.

You looked at him. Looked at how serious he was. “Yes, I’m sure,” you said. 

Fontaine grinned. Now, isn’t that better?”

“You don’t have to be gentle with me all the time,” you said. 

Fontaine tilted his head. He moved his hand to caress your cheek. “Okay, but only if you tell me when I do something you don’t like,” he said. 

You nodded and grinned at him. “Then put that dick back in your mouth,” he said, tilting his head down and narrowing his eyes.

You squeaked and went back to work, slapping your lips with his dick. He groaned and moved his hips again. You spat on his dick and then sucked it back down, bobbing your head. You were done with teasing. You put your hands on his thighs for structure and then set a good pace.

Fontaine’s hands gripped your jaw and pulled you down faster, pushing his dick deeper. You slobbered on him, feeling it drip down your chin and hit your shirt. Pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you hummed at the salty taste of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it. Fuck, that’s good. Suck that shit,” he moaned. 

Your eyes were locked to each other as he used your mouth. As he pumped your head up and down on his long, thick dick. You moaned as he forgot to be gentle, slipped past some barrier in his mind, as he shoved your mouth down.

Your pussy throbbed painfully. Aching with emptiness as your mouth got to enjoy his dick. Your jaw hurt a little but you kept going, kept matching his energy. He hit the back of your throat and you almost gagged. He pulled your head back but his dick jumped at the sounds you were making. You spit on his dick, licked your lips, and then suckled him back down. You let him go with a wet pop and then started pumping him with your hand while you sucked one ball into your mouth. 

“I’m finna bust,” he groaned. You kept going, kept stroking him down so that when he was close, you could suck it down like usual. But he was already trying to slow you down. 

Fontaine moaned and came all over your face. Most of it got on your glasses and you shrieked in surprise. It was warm, splashing your face in random spots. On your forehead, probably in your hair, and on your chin. 

Fontaine’s moan was cut short as he panted. “Shit, I’m sorry!” 

You blinked at him, staring at him through the cum sliding down the frames. The closest drop was right at the corner of your mouth. The cum turned cold fast, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You stuck your tongue out and licked his cum from your face.

You moaned, trying to lick up more. Fontaine groaned and you turned back to him. You took off your glasses and threw it on the couch. You smiled sweetly at him as you cleaned up the cum on the tip of his dick.

“Clean it up real good,” he demanded, leaning back into the couch.

You nodded. “Yes, baby,” you said. You sucked him down and he groaned, his hands going back to your head and pushing you down on his dick.

 “Just wait ‘till it’s my turn, baby,” he said with a dark chuckle. 

The end.

You already know! The Secret Tyrone Files

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[ponderingmoonlight]

Choso getting hopelessly seduced by another blood manipulator

Jaw-Dropping gorgeous pic from none other than @sanicsmut - go check out their work here and give a big LIKE

Pairing: Choso x fem!hemomancy!reader (=basically someone who is able to use blood manipulation without jujutsu and advanced, read more here

Word Count: 2,4k

Synopsis: It seemed so easy at first: find Itadori Yuji, kill him, take revenge. Only until you showed up and captivated Choso Kamo, only until you showed him what you can...

Warnings: this gets a little smutty and heated from time to time so be prepared, reader is pretty badass I love her in this one, since this took me quite some time I'd truly appreciate you guys liking, commenting or reblogging my work - thank you <3 Also, special thanks to @yukiotacon - I truly hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Also, special thank to @sanicsmut for allowing me to use that stunning piece of art as a cover - click here to leave a like, comment or reblog for my babe ♡

„How on earth did I get here?”, you mumble to yourself, humming while walking down the empty hallways of Shibuya’s train station.

You know damn well why you’re here, roaming around this area with a clear aim.

“We’re talking about a lot of money here. Money for someone who isn’t even able to use jujutsu at the moment”, the white-haired man sitting in front of you clarified amused.

You smiled to yourself, stalked him like a hunter stalks his prey until you trapped him between your arms, a lustful grin appearing on his face.

“The success of hemomancy is as guaranteed as the fact that you’re oh so excited right now, Mr. Gojo”, you purred.

Oh, how much you enjoyed the way his heart started to pump faster immediately, how his blood began to rush into his crotch area.  

“If you fail, I’ll be there to finish off what you started. And who knows, maybe even you.”

Why does it have to be so damn entertaining to play with men, to feel their blood rush through their veins? Well, what is even more exciting than that is making them kneel in front of you just before you turn their own blood against them.

Hemomancy, the magic of blood, the reason you are able to control both your own blood and the blood of others. No matter where, no matter when. Completely without their so-called jujutsu.

“Jujutsu…”

You huff in sheer amusement.

“Why on earth would you need something like that?”

“Who are you?”

Your eyes widen just the slightest bit, mind caught off guard while you search for the person who just spoke out of nowhere. How is it possible that didn’t detect the flow of this strangers’ blood earlier? Normally, you are able to catch every living being in the blink of an eye.

“Better question is who are you”, you reply dryly, eyes scanning the area in order to find this person.

His low voice tells you that he has to be a man, maybe a few metres away from you. But where? And who the fuck is he to not get caught by your powers?

“I’m not here to play games.”

Suddenly, he is near – way too near for your liking. And there it is, the presence of his blood, the way it pumps through his arm when he’s about to hit you with full force.

“I’m either.”

All it takes is a swift motion of your finger to stop his flying fist mid-air.

“There you are”, you announce provocative, turning around only to be greeted by his eyes.

You stop in your tracks. What a pair of gorgeous eyes he has, widen in utter disbelief by the fact that you have the control over his body. But not only that, you can tell that he’s well-trained underneath that cloak.

“Definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you naked”, you mutter, eyes roaming over every inch of him.

“Are you a witch?”, he presses out, arm visibly fighting against your force.

You can’t help but chuckle, the struggle written on his cute face being the most amusing thing you’ve seen in a long time. Elegantly, you kneel down next to him in order to meet him eye to eye, fingertips caressing his cheek gently.

“What are those?”

These lines decorating his face, engraved into his otherwise flawless skin. A tattoo, some strange birth mark by any chance?

“Slicing exorcism.”

It happens faster than you’re able to react. Before you even realize what’s going on, something pierces right through your shoulder, cuts through your tender flesh with ease.

No, not something.

“Blood manipulation, huh?”, you choke out, the floor underneath your feet instantly discoloured in crimson.

Choso creates distance between both of you, eyes examining every minor move you make. Who are you? You don’t seem to have any cursed energy. But how were you able to control his arm, to stop his powerful slash in the matter of milliseconds? It was almost as if…

As if you’re using a special form of blood manipulation yourself.

“Let me make this clear.”

He squints his eyes in confusion when you begin to walk towards him, your uninjured arm stretched out in front of you. A swift motion of your hand and he lands on the cold floor all over again, feeling as if an invisible weight pushes him into the earth. No matter how hard he tenses his muscles, no matter how desperately he fights against that force, he can’t escape you.

“There is no fucking way you’ll escape me, okay? Interesting, you have to be a member of the Kamo clan, am I right?”

“None of your business”, he spits into your face.

Your hand yanks towards his neck, squeezes ever so slightly while your face is only inches away from his. That dreadful gleam in your eyes, the fact that you wear a small smile on your face despite he just destroyed your shoulder forever.

“Let me tell you a secret, Mr. Kamo.”

Carefully, you drag your nail along his neck until blood spills, earning a low groan from him.

“Do you know anything about hemomancy?”

Hemomancy…No, this can’t be real. He thought the magic of blood disappeared from the surface of the earth with the new century, forgotten by the modern people. But you…He stares right into your confident face, watches in horror as you collect the trail of blood from his neck with your finger and lick it clean.

Oh, what a wonderful metallic taste, maybe one of the best droplets you ever enjoyed. Very fitting for a man like him.

“The magic of blood, the power to control both your blood and the blood of others, to create weapons of blood to use your own blood to poison, to use others to…”

“Heal”, you finish his sentence.

“You know quite a lot about hemomancy. I’m impressed.”

The weight on his shoulders disappears out of thin air, makes him yank up out of instinct. Choso watches carefully as you stretch both of your arms into the air, circle your injured shoulder…

That isn’t injured anymore.

“So you know you have absolutely no chance to defeat me, no matter how great your blood manipulation is, right?”

Choso wants to dash forward, to hit you with full force, to finally find Itadori and take revenge for the death of his brothers. But instead, he simply stands and stares at you with trembling hands. Despite every fiber of his being urges to fight against you, he knows you’re right.

“Good.”

Again, you walk towards him with your heels clicking against the hard floor. His eyes dart up and down, take in your appearance. You look absolutely threatful, maybe even more dangerous than Mahito or Geto will ever be. Why are you even here? Whose side are you on? There isn’t enough time to ask you these questions.

Your hand finds his chest, glides up onto his back ever so gently.

“What’s your name?”

“Choso Kamo”, he finally gives in.

“Choso, huh?”

You let your finger glide over his muscular chest, up to his traps made of gold until you reach his firm back. What a force of a man he is, maybe the best one you’ve seen so far.

His breath gets caught in his throat, your touch burning like a thousand fires against his skin. But no, not like pain. What is this strange feeling building up inside his body? What is this unknown urge that slowly but surely takes control over him? Choso looks down at you with flustered eyes, takes in your sight. Is this what people call attraction?

“Don’t”, he warns you half-heartedly, his hand grabbing your arm.

This is enough. He needs to get going, needs to find Yuji Itadori and kill him, he-

His arm moves around your waist on its own, pulls you closer to his aching body. Are you using your powers, are you forcing him onto you? No, his body moves freely, presses itself against you out of instinct. He was never this close to a woman before, let alone a jaw-dropping gorgeous one like you. So this is the reason why all those stupid humans hunt after each other, why unwise feelings like love even exist.

“Do you want me to leave?”

The way your thumb glides up and down his back threatens to drive him insane any minute, eyes captivated by your hypnotizing orbs.

“I don’t know”, he breathes out.

Oh, but you do. The way his blood pressure and heart rate shoot up, his blood flowing straight down. You can’t help but bite your lip, even your own breath now coming uneven and shaky. You’ve seduced countless men in your lifetime. Fuck, even Gojo himself would have nailed you right on the spot if you didn’t leave back then. But this time, the sensation of the game itself becomes incidental. This time, your own blood rushes through your body uncontrollably.

“You aren’t a human, are you? That body definitely isn’t from this world.”

You allow your needy touch to discover the valleys of his body even faster, to enjoy the sensation of his hot breath against your cheek.

“I am…incarnated.”

Incarnated? The world of jujutsu is far too complicated for you to grasp. But still, you know he has to be damn powerful, that this body holds a lot of potential. This body with all those firm muscles. This body, radiating a heat you’ve never felt before.

“Tell me, what are you doing here, Choso?”

It takes all his strength to not moan out loud, to stay focused when your hands stroke up and down his chest.

“I am here to kill Yuji Itadori”, he also reminds himself.

This is ridiculous, wrong in so many ways. Why is he out there, allowing a woman he never met before to touch him so casually when he swore to his brothers to seek revenge?

Something inside you clicks. Yuji Itadori. One of the names Gojo told you when you met.

“I see”, you purr.

“Let me ask you one more thing. Where you ever kissed before, Choso?”

Kissed. The act of caressing each other’s lips as a symbol for affection. He’s seen it countless times in many centuries and never understood the sensation of it. But now, staring at your perfect mouth, watching as your tongue wets your lips…

“No.”

You smile softly, siren eyes switching between his lips and eyes.

“What a shame when you have lips so kissable.”

With one quick movement, you put your hands on the back of his neck, pull him so close that your lips are only inches apart.

“Please.”

The innocent word escapes his lips before he’s able to stop himself, chest rising and falling so rapidly that Choso feels like fainting for a second. What is this strange feeling, the spell you put on him? It has to be the power you radiate, the way your face seems somehow appealing to him. Has he ever seen a stunning creature like you? No, you have the brightest eyes he’s ever seen, a body that makes his mind wander.

“Your plea is my command.”

When you press your lips against his, allow him to taste what kissing feels like for the very first time, something inside Choso snaps. His hand grabs your waist roughly, presses you even closer while his other hand desperately searches for hold in your hair. Screw if this is your magic, screw if it’s nothing but a foul trick. You feel so intoxicating, your lips moving so effortlessly against his own that he sees stars. You taste like mint with a tint of iron that drives him insane.

“Choso”, you whimper against his lips, your very own hands searching for hold on his tight biceps.

What a force of a man he is, a remarkable kisser despite the fact that he probably never touched a woman without killing her before. If you had known how good this feels, you wouldn’t have wasted your time on mere mortals. Not even Gojo Satoru caught your attention like he did.

Suddenly Choso feels like he can’t breathe anymore. But not from the sensation your lips have caused, not because you hold onto his neck. No, this is something different. This feels like death.

He lets go off you immediately and stumbles backwards only for you to casually follow him and catching him right before his gorgeous figure hits the ground.

“Don’t take this personal, Choso. But I can’t allow you to kill Itadori Yuji. Not when Gojo payed me a shit ton of money in order to protect his precious little students. I’m a woman who keeps her promises, y’know?”

“What…did…you…do…”

His tongue feels as heavy as concrete, the ability to control his own body slipping through his fingers with every passing second.

“You said it yourself.”

You wipe over your lips, revealing a tiny trail of blood.

“ ‘to use your own blood as poison’, wasn’t that what you just said? Don’t worry darling, I won’t kill you. But you won’t be able to kill Itadori Yuji either. Now sleep tight. I hope we meet again to continue what we started when you wake up.”

No, he needs to fight against it, he needs to get off the ground, fulfil his duty to kill Itadori Yuji. He…

The last thing he notices are your lips, gently pressed against his cheek.

And then everything went black.

Bonus:

“You have to be kidding me.”

“Why would I do that, Mr. Gojo?”

You continue casually filing your nails while none other than the one they call “the strongest” starts to have an emotional breakdown in front of you.

“I thought you felt the tension between both of us as well! You…You said to me that-“

“I needed this job”, you clarify dryly.

“And what about him!?”

He points towards Choso who is lost in his conversation with Yuji. You simply shrug your shoulders.

“He’s everything I ever wished for-“

“AND I’M NOT!? Is it because you share the same powers-“

“We don’t share the same powers-“

“Is it because he’s taller than me!?”

“He’s not taller than you.”

“Is it because he has dark hair!?”

“What the hell are you so worked up about man?”

“I need to get out of here”, he announces so dramatically that you’re convinced he’ll faint any given minute.

“Gojo-sensei, are you not feeling well?”, Yuji questions, lines of worry decorating his innocent face.

“I’m far away from feeling fine!”

“So dramatic”, you mumble to yourself.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren't as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellooooooooo. I've done it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The heat is suffocating. There’s so many people crammed into the tight space. Enough to smother you and make you sweat. You're close to the end. 

The train is finally still and passengers rise to take down their bags and form a queue along the center aisle. You stay patiently in your seat. You’d rather wait there then brave the crowded shuffle as the impatience to disembark mounts. 

At last, the doors open and people begin to move. You don’t stand until the last person passes your row. Your suitcase is at the front of the car with the bigger luggage. 

Step-by-step you make your way up and slip your bag off the middle shelf. You haul it awkwardly to the door and the man on the ground helps bring it down. You thank him, looking only at his branded pin, and step off. 

You drag the bag behind you and hike up the smaller bag on your shoulder. You’re exhausted and it’s not even noon. The automatic doors stand open as the other passengers enter the station. You follow and wheel your bag to the side so you’re out of the way. 

You take out your phone. Your mother texted that she was here ten minutes ago. You can’t see much through the busy station. It’s summer and everyone is on their way somewhere; going home or heading out on vacation. 

You’re relieved to be back but you won’t be able to relax until you’re at your mom’s house. You can’t wait to hide in your room and catch up on your reading. After four years at college, you have a long list. 

As endless as your list may be, your reprieve won’t be. You have your degree now. You need to use it. Find a job, start your life, be an adult. The prospect is exciting but terrifying. More the latter as it entails associating with strangers. You’ve never been very good at that. 

You did so well in school because it’s all you did. You didn’t go out and party, you didn’t distract yourself with dating or drinking, you didn’t even sign up for that book club that looked fun. You only stayed in and studied and occasionally ate in the cafe instead of boiling ramen or ordering in. 

You don’t see her. You roll over to a free seat and sit. You text and ask where she is. 

The general public stirs around you, blending into your peripherals as you stare at your phone and wait. You’d be better off waiting outside. Maybe. There’s a line of taxis and it’s all clustered with people trying to claim one. 

“Ahem, excuse me.” The deep tone draws your head up but your eyes don’t go all the way. You focus on the man’s neck and the silver and brown stubble under his chin. He says your name and you sit up taller. “That’s you, right? Your mom showed me a pic. She’s just run to the bathroom.” 

“Huh?” You clutch your bag tight. 

“She did tell you I was coming, didn’t she?” He asks. 

You shake your head and gnaw on your lip, “no. Who are you?” 

You don’t know him. Not by his voice or the brief peek at his face. He’s older. Maybe her age. His dark hair is peppered with grey and his face is lined around his eyes and mouth, a few softer wrinkles in his forehead. His blue eyes are as bold as gems. 

“Bucky.” He answers as if that should be explanation enough. He offers his hand. “Finally, we meet.” 

You look around and accept his hand. You shake it. “Um, okay?” 

He lets you go and grabs the handle of your suitcase. You reach for it in panic and stand. You nearly tip over and barely avoid brushing against him. 

“She didn’t mention me. At all?” 

You shake your head. 

“Bucky,” your mom’s voice undercuts the awkward introduction. You turn to watch her flutter over. “Oh, sweetie, you’re home!” 

Your mom seizes you and wraps you in a tight hug. She usually lets you have your space. You’ve never been touchy feely but you don’t protest. It has been a while since you saw her. 

“Um, mom?” You murmur as she releases you. 

She steps back and looks between you and the stranger. No, his name is Bucky. 

“Oh, yes. You two. This is Bucky. Bucky--” 

“We met,” Bucky interrupts. 

“So sorry. I had an iced coffee on the way,” she trills. 

“Bucky?” You raise your brows in your mom’s direction. 

“You remember. I told you I met a guy,” she lowers her voice and nudges you. “This is him.” 

“Oh.” 

You vaguely remember her mentioning it after Christmas. You didn’t think too much about it. You don’t remember it coming up again. She always just said she went out or talked about chores. You wonder if she didn’t tell you on purpose. If maybe she expected you to overreact. 

“We thought we could take you out for lunch as a bit of a homecoming. That train food isn’t very filling.” She smiles. “Well, it was Bucky’s idea. He’s so sweet.” 

“Honey,” he chuckles. “Please, you’re giving me a lot to live up to.” 

“Erm. If you want.” You shrug. 

“Sounds like a plan. I’m starving.” Bucky pulls your bag away and you flinch again. “Ladies, first. Want me to get your other bag?” He offers and you shake your head.  

Your mom moves first and you quickly catch up to her. You wish she’d at least warned you. You’re entirely unprepared for this. She knows you don’t do well with new people but maybe that’s why she didn’t say anything. So you couldn’t come up with an excuse to get out of it. 

The sun beats down and adds to the sheet of sweat across your nape. Bucky looms behind you, his shadow skewing on the pavement, and you search for your mom’s car. You don’t see it. 

She leads you to a dark blue car and you stare at it dumbly. 

“Bucky drove,” your mom explains. The trunk pops as Bucky rolls your bag up. You step back as he lifts it inside. You thank him again as guilt bristles in your chest. 

You follow your mom around the side of the car, waiting for her lead. When she opens the door, you open the back one. When she gets in, you get it. When she clips in her seat belt, you do. Bucky gets in on the driver’s side and drops his keys in the little tray between the cup holders. He jabs the button to turn the engine. 

He doesn’t shift into gear right away. He does up his own seat belt, adjusts his posture, then fiddles with the mirror. You glance up as his eyes dart away in the mirror. Was he looking at you?

You pick at the hem of your sleeves button-up and lean into the door. You really hope you’re not in the way. You have that rotting sensation in your gut. You’ve ruined their day. 

“Alright, everyone buckled in?” He grips the wheel with one hand, the other hooking behind your mother’s seat as he cranes and backs out of the spot. You stare at his thick fingers as you slump down in self-consciousness. You know he’s only checking his rear window but you’re always paranoid of being seen. 

He rolls the car straight and steers between the slanted rows of vehicles. He idles behind the fleet of cabs and weaves his way through the chaos. Your mom sighs and shifts. She’s a less than patient driver. 

“So, we were thinking the new bar and grill, figured you haven’t been around to try it,” your mom explains. “But if you miss Dezi’s, we can go there. Me and Bucky love getting Sunday lunch there. You remember how we used to go?” 

Your lips twitch as you fright a frown. Dezi’s is your place. You and your mom went there since you were in grade school. Knowing she’s been taking him feels like a violation. The suspicion that you’re being replaced unnerves you. You don’t have any right to be mad about it. You’re grown now and your mom’s allowed to live her life. Thing’s change, they already have. 

“New place is fine,” you grumble. 

“Great! Megan recommended it. I’ve been dying to try it.” Your mom is elated. 

She’s never short of enthusiasm but you don’t know the last time she didn’t have a single complaint. If it’s a nice day, she’s disappointed she can’t be at the beach. If she has the day off, she’s upset she has to do the laundry, even if you offer to throw it in with yours. And when she finally gets her food at a restaurant, she laments that she didn’t order the chicken instead of beef. Maybe change is good. 

“Your mom’s a great tour guide. I don’t feel so lost anymore.” Bucky stops at a light and looks at her. “Uh, Lauren?” 

“Straight then left,” she instructs him with a point of her finger. Her nails are done. Not her usual chipped paint on her short square cuticles; she has a full set with a lovely almond shape. 

He follows her directions and continues through the green. You turn your attention out the window. You were only just home for the holidays but everything feels so different. Or maybe you are too.  

There’s nothing ahead of you no, yet everything at the same time. You haven’t found much in your job search. Every job your mom sent you, you applied. You trawled the online boards and even used the student career center for help with your CV. A dozen articles littered your feed deeming the market oversaturated. 

Another disappointment for your mom. You’re sure she won’t fail to mention this one. You exhale and twine your fingers together in your lap. 

“Tired, sweetie?” Your mom asks. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. It wouldn’t do any good to share your worries. You still have time to find a job. Eventually, you have to get something. 

“Alright,” Bucky flicks his blinker on and waits to turn. “Here we are.” 

He pulls into the lot of the bar and grill. It’s built to resemble a log cabin and the entire theme has a rustic tint. He slides into a spot and shuts the engine off. In the silence, your stomach rumbles loudly. 

“Hungry?” He chuckles and peeks back over his shoulder. As your mom jostles her purse and untangles her seat belt, he winks. Your blink dumbly and click the button to release yourself. 

“Sure.” Your voice creaks as you pull the door handle. It doesn’t budge. You try again. Then frantically feel around for the lock. 

“Oops.” Bucky turns and hits a switch. The locks thunk back. 

Your mom gets out first and you follow. Bucky catches up and brushes by you as he passes. He beats you both to the front door and opens it for you. You trail your mom and he stays close as he enters behind you. 

“Such a gentleman,” your mom praises and giggles. She sounds bubbly. You can’t remember her sounding like that before. 

“Table for three,” Bucky says to the hostess. 

Again, he lets you go ahead of him. Your mom is ahead of you as the hostess leads you into the dining room. You’re sat at a booth. You’re relieve to have a bench to yourself, facing your mother and Bucky, but she insists on being on the outside in case she needs the bathroom. That leaves you across from him. 

“Drinks.” Bucky intones as he grabs the slender menu. “Cocktails?” 

“What do they have?” Your mom leans on him as she reads over his shoulder. 

“Hmm, interesting. Apple cider’s a bit out of season,” Bucky comments. “Figured we should celebrate. Baby girl is home and graduated.” 

You wince at the reference. Baby girl? He sucks his teeth as he examines the menu then turns it around. He offers it across the table. 

“Think I'll stick to beer,” he says. 

“Go on,” your mom goads. “Get something special, sweetie. You earned it.” 

“Oh, it’s okay, I’ll just have water.” 

“It’s a special day,” she insists.  

“Well, er...” you take the menu and nod. You look down at the listings as your cheeks burn hot. You don’t like to argue, especially when there’s no good reason. 

You try to make sense of it. Blackberry sounds good but you’re not sure what bitters are. You don’t drink. You had one glass of wine at a New Years party with your mom’s friends a few years ago and didn’t really get the appeal. It made your stomach feel swishy. 

There’s a lemonade that sounds okay. You like lemonade. You settle on that and put the menu down. Your mother scoops it up and you apologise. You should’ve asked her if she needed it. 

A server appears and takes your drink orders as she doles out a set of larger menus. You take yours and listen as she recites the specials. You don’t really catch any of it. You’ve always done better with writing than oral instruction. She leaves and you wait for the others to open their menu before you do the same. 

“This is nice,” your mom says. “I’m so happy you two are getting along.” 

You force a smile and Bucky slips his arm around her and squeezes. Your eyes meet again and his cheek dimples beneath his beard. You quickly avert your attention back to the sandwich options.

Getting along? You barely know him. Not to mention, you didn’t expect him. No use in whining about it. He's here and your mother is happy. 

[koqabear]

「 Camera Shy 」

♫: Automatic, Red Velvet // Movie Star, CIX // Color Me, JUNNY // Kitty Cat, KISS OF LIFE

“You’ve always tried to live an honest and responsible life; never spending money on anything ridiculous, scoffing at the things other people would be so willing to drop their paycheck on. But when life gets hard, you’re bound to give into your guilty pleasures, right?”

camboy!Beomgyu x fem!reader

Genre: f2l, smut, pw/minimal plot 

Word count: 14.4K (there’s like three different smut scenes here)

Warnings: gyu has a thing for glasses idk don’t question me, (mc wears glasses, not necessarily prescription), gyu is lowkey manipulative if u squint, slight possessiveness on his part? nothing toxic (i think), alcohol consumption, gyu has a tattoo.. 

smut warnings: gyu is a bit of a perv! mean dom!Beomgyu, sub!mc, masturbation (f&m), filmed sex, (consensual), dirty talk, degrading, use of toys (f&m rec.), exhibitionism, voyeurism technically, bit of a voice/hand kink? slight humiliation kink, mentions of safe words & subspace, mentions of squirting lmao, manhandling, spanking, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, dry humping, handcuffing, biting, unprotected sex, dumbification, dacryphilia, creampie (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: lemme tell you. i wrote abt the tattoo before i stumbled upon that pic, when i tell you i was just ??? barely proof-read heehee. the thought of this au hit me like a that-so-raven vision, and I literally spent the whole day making sure I could finish this. enjoy bc i love camboy aus sm. (oh and pls, do me a favor and reblog— i have an ominous feeling about what’ll happen to this fic once i post it.)

Beomgyu has always found the idea of his work a bit ridiculous. 

Day by day, he’s a normal college student— he spends his early mornings in classes, taking all the morning slots everyone was always reluctant to enroll in before he went off to work; he was known as that cute server amongst the women that visited the restaurant he worked at, able to upsell and gain tips with ease as he quickly became a favorite amongst his coworkers.

He liked the attention— of course he did, he needed to in order to thrive in the field of his actual job, his hours at the restaurant nothing but a side hustle compared to the hundreds he could make of a single stream.

Those hundreds could always breach into the thousands— but those were on especially good days, like his annual Valentine’s Day stream he always held for his lonely, single viewers. 

Beomgyu was quite the sweet talker— he got the practice from his day-to-day shifts, watching girls his age and older fawn at his words and flutter their eyes playfully. It was clear they enjoyed the attention just as much as he did, a cute smile on his face as he faked a shy laugh whenever they would compliment him.

Your hair looks really nice today. You smell amazing. Do you work out? You have a really nice voice. 

He got that last compliment a lot.

“Do I?” he would purr, a sultry smile crawling on his face each time, like a practiced action as he would tilt his head teasingly— the reaction would be positive each time, without fail, and he would always end up with a collection of napkins with scrawled phone numbers every time he would clock out— his coworkers would poke fun at him every time they watched him dump them all out apathetically. 

You weren’t into that one person? Dude, the lady at table seven was so fucking hot.

Beomgyu never really paid mind to their teasing— he could care less for the men and women that tried to butter him up during his shifts, forced to act as though their shameless flirting didn’t make his stomach twist unpleasantly— instead, he would be forced to smile, laughing sheepishly before he would slip away with one last comment. 

“I’m flattered, really— but, I have someone I’m interested in.” 

That someone was you— the pretty girl that sat across from him during his ten am lecture, finding himself spacing out every time and staring off into your direction; though you never seemed to notice, much too caught up in taking notes as he watched the way your brows would furrow, biting at your lip and adjusting your glasses as you remained focused— whether those glasses were for reading, blue light, prescription, or even decoration, he didn’t care— all he cared about was how unnecessarily attractive you looked in them. 

He thought about you more than he liked to admit— it was frustrating at first, his thoughts starting as nothing more than puppy love to something worse— it was only after you piqued his interest that he began streaming more. 

This was both a good and bad thing; good because, well, he began to climb the ranks of popularity and earn more, but bad because he would find himself thinking of you. Each. And every. Time. 

“Wish I could fuck you,” he would sigh out, his comments going too fast for him to keep up with as his eyes fluttered shut; leaning back against his headboard, he shifts, making sure everything but his lips remain out of frame before he’s back to closing his eyes, “would you let me make you feel good? God, I’d do anything just to feel you, taste you…”

As far as his audience knows, he’s speaking to them— the comments grow wild and tips flood in, all asking him to stop being a tease as they watch the way he palms himself through his sweatpants; grabbing at his length, stroking it slowly as he lets his imagination run wild. 

He’s not wearing boxers; Beomgyu knows it drives his viewers mad, able to see as a wet spot begins to form on the light material, his tip leaking furiously as his other hand tugs the hem of his sweater over his chest— his vision is hazy as he reads the requests, laughing softly as he allows his fingers to trace along his chest absentmindedly— tracing over the muscle of his abdomen, circling his nipples slowly as he reads a comment under his breath.

Stop teasing and hurry up already !! >///<

The comment has him rolling his eyes— yet his usual tippers begin to request the same thing, and his hand is slowly tugging at the tied strings of his pants as he smiles, mocking and mean as he bites his lip. 

“Hurry up? You want to command me while you’re over here throwing money at me like a whore? All just to watch me fuck myself, dreaming that it could be you?”

The comments start speeding up; it’s all a blur to him, but the sound of money coming in is enough to tell him that his usual audience is active again.

“Pathetic,” he sighs, his voice deep and grumbly as he reads over the requests that come in with the money: yes, i wish it were me there… please, can we see your cock?

“Desperate little sluts,” Beomgyu hums, tugging his waistband down and allowing his cock to spring up; it smacks against his stomach, and though the people in his comments attempt to regain his attention with dirty words and useless requests, he knows it’s all because of you— guiltily, he finds his thoughts straying the moment his hand wraps around his cock. 

His streams have a certain formula to them; the more money, the better the show. Which is exactly why he ends up kneeling in front of the camera, fucking his cock into a clear flashlight as he listens to the sounds of tips coming in left and right— but his eyes remained shut, spilling enough filth to have his audience satisfied as he allows to let his imagination run wild. 

In every stream, he cums to the thought of you; he has to bite his lip to not moan out your name like a pathetic bitch in heat, flooding his fleshlight with cum and continuing to fuck into it until his next orgasm.

In every stream, he finds himself thinking the same thought at least once— do you watch his streams?

»»»

The concept of camboys is ridiculous to you.

Why in the world would you spend all your money and emotions on a single person, when you can just go on Twitter and find the next best account that has yet to be suspended? Well, it’s not as though you find the idea of sex work appalling, but you don’t think you’d ever feel good about yourself spending a hard-earned paycheck because you were horny. 

You’re not stupid; you know sex workers make bank, and you know that there are people in the world that love emptying out their bank accounts to such workers; whether it’s due to a kink or to feed into their parasocial relationship, you’re not sure. 

You find that a good session on Twitter and your fingers usually does the trick— maybe a toy or two, if you find yourself feeling that needy. 

Today’s session quickly becomes both disappointing and humbling; every account you try to look for has either been suspended or deleted, and every video you come across is something that’s not to your taste or something you’ve seen many, many times. 

You feel weak as you come across the same account again; guiltypleasures— and he’s damn right, because you’re unable to resist the urge to click on his icon, feeling your thighs rub together with impatience as you sit back in bed— scrolling through, you’re surprised to see that he’s posted another video— without a second thought, you’re watching it. 

“Fucking pathetic,” he sighs out, the familiar growled phrase making you gulp; you never found yourself to be too attracted to men who are extremely dominating and mean, but the man on your screen is somehow able to make it work as you find yourself getting wetter, “are you touching yourself right now? Don’t you wish I was there with you?”

And shit, you think you know why he’s able to make you come back to him every time, even if he’s posted nothing new and you’re forced to rewatch old videos most of the time; maybe it’s because of his hands, delicate and thin as they wrap around his favorite pocket pussy, or maybe it’s the way he slowly fucks into the said toy; stretching it out, his tip poking out and oozing enough cum that you can hear the wet squelching sounds that come from every thrust.

Or maybe, it’s his voice, deep and breathy and addicting as he mumbles out filthy things like it’s the only thing he knew how to do; his lips are red and swollen as he groans, hissing through his teeth as you watch the way his hands tighten around his toy. 

“Shit, I’d fuck you so good,” he sighs out, hips rutting into the toy in his hands as he laughs; his head tilts, and though you’re only able to see his lips, you know his eyes are teasing as he looks into the camera, “fuck you so that you’d never want anyone else but me.”

His thrusts are picking up— you didn’t even realize the moment you began touching yourself, embarrassing whimpers and breaths falling from your lips as you keep your eyes honed in on his motions; you’re close, so close, your ministration speeding up as you fight to keep your eyes open. 

“You’d be my good little cumdump, just for me to use— right?”

The video ends shortly after.

God damn it! your mind screams, the sudden cut-off catching you so off guard that you completely ruined your orgasm; you feel insanely embarrassed by how frustrated you feel, not realizing how short the clip he posted was until now. Clicking away, you feel as though your mood is ruined as you read the contents of his tweet. 

A small clip from the stream. Watch the rest here: https://…..

Shit. Of course he would be a camboy. How did you not realize this sooner?

Honestly, if you sounded like that, you would be one too— and frustratingly enough, the brief cutoff is a damn good marketing strategy, because after a moment of thought, you’re clicking on the link.

You could just rewatch the video— you could also just go rewatch his previous videos, or even use your imagination to help you finish— but the idea of doing so is much more unpleasant than usual. (And humiliating, because you’ve found with horror that you’ve begun to memorize how his previous, equally as short, clips go.)

Your resolve begins to weaken the moment you click on his page— because of course, everything costs money— It costs to see his previous streams, costs to message him, and costs to get a fucking membership. 

Who is paying for all this?!

You, apparently— because after some serious, slightly horny-impaired thought, you decide that getting a low-tier membership wouldn’t be too bad, right?

The cost is monthly (because of course it is, this website seems to want to charge you for just looking at his page) and you wince slightly as you watch your transaction go through. 

Once you see the notification of your purchase pop up on your phone, you feel dreadfully sobered. 

Because shit, being a low-tier subscriber only gets you a part of his most recent streams— about less than half of it, you notice— only able to get full access to streams prior to this month. It’s enough for now, but you can’t help but feel as though you’ve become the very thing you’ve despised as you lay back in your bed, staring at your ceiling for a moment before you’re sighing.

You’re still horny. 

»»»

You think you can get behind the whole camboy thing. One may say you’ve been swayed, and quite honestly, you don’t think you could dispel such claims at this point.

Because it’s been a few months, and you’ve managed to stay through the whole thing. You’re surprised that you’ve begun to keep his streaming times in mind as you go about your day, ending your study sessions early or wondering if you’ll get home from work in time to watch his streams. 

You always do. Maybe it’s a deity above making sure you get your money’s worth, or maybe it’s the fact that guiltypleasures is a human too, with a normal life and better shit to do than sit in front of a camera and jerk off all day. 

The idea of following in his footsteps has crossed your mind more often than you expected; anything would be better than being a hostess at this god-awful job you have, forced to sit through the way people take out their anger on you and proceed to flirt with the servers— one of those servers being Beomgyu.

You were able to realize how popular Beomgyu was after your second shift— it didn’t take a genius to figure out why as you were left to deal with the way women of your age and older (mostly older. So many older women.) would creep up to you shyly, putting up a front of innocence as they asked you is Beomgyu here today? Could we sit in his area, please?

Seeing him rack up tips after a busy shift is always enough to have you wondering if you should switch to being a server— but then you see the way the women are treated, your stomach flipping in disgust at the way men leer and comment at them— you’ve even seen Beomgyu get cursed at plenty of times as well, shivering at the jealous partners and the way they’ve been blacklisted for threatening him. 

Tonight is one of those nights. You’ve clocked out, shrugging on your jacket and gathering your belongings when you see Beomgyu storm in through the employee entrance; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him angry, but the sight has your eyes widening as you watch the way he frowns at his uniform, cursing angrily under his breath as he approaches the break table you stand by. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, low and breathy and mean as he continues complaining, berating the customer that had the audacity to throw their drink at him— but you, in your very depraved state, remain stuck on the way he sounds, his voice far too attractive for a person who is spouting out filth.

This feels familiar. 

“Hey, you okay?” you ask softly, feeling awkward as you mentally slap yourself for your train of thought; it seems as though Beomgyu hadn’t even realized you were there, his head snapping up as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights— his mood is immediately shifting as he sends you a sweet smile, acting as though his clothes aren’t soaked as he waves you off causally. 

“Yeah. Just some ridiculous customers,” he says, laughing softly as he grabs at a pile of napkins on the table; you wince as you watch him scrub roughly at the stains, unable to stop yourself as you jump to his aide. 

“Here, you’ll only get the stains in deeper if you do that,” you say, taking the napkin from his hands as you begin to dab at his uniform without much thought; you’re much closer than you should be to someone you’ve never really talked to, but you don’t seem to realize it as Beomgyu practically forgets to breathe from your proximity. 

Shit, how did he find himself in this situation? He might as well go back out and thank the jealous, “tough guy” boyfriend that threw his drink at Beomgyu, because he feels as though every guilty fantasy is coming back to mind as he takes in your concentrated expression, your hand placed firmly on his chest for support as the other dabs at the stains in his uniform. 

You smell so good. Even though you’ve been in the restaurant just as long as him and have been around food this whole time, he’s still able to pick up on your scent with every shaky breath he takes. 

You’re wearing your glasses, too.

Beomgyu’s mind is wandering off to dangerous places; he knows he needs to get himself under control, because the danger of him popping a boner just from how close you are is a higher probability than he’d like to admit. It seems as though you’re snapping out of your trance the moment he clears his throat, your face growing hot and slightly horrified as you jump back; Beomgyu can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at the sight, finding your embarrassment oddly endearing. 

“Sorry, got carried away,” you say, smiling shakily as you take in the way Beomgyu practically beams at you— always a sweet, nice guy, waving you off without a problem as he laughs softly.

“No, it seems to have helped,” he says, and you can’t help but notice how oddly charismatic he is even now, during this mundane interaction that has you stuttering over your words stupidly— but to be fair, how are you supposed to give him advice on how to get the stains out when he’s looking at you with the cutest god damn puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, his brown eyes round and sparkly as he listens intently to every word you say? 

“I wouldn’t have thought to do that,” he smiles, his cheeks puffing up cutely and oh, is it weird that you want to coo at how cute he is and pinch his cheeks…? 

Definitely weird, you decide, letting out a soft laugh as he tells you that he’ll try it as soon as he gets home. 

“Speaking of which, I’ll let you go; you probably don’t want to be here longer than necessary,” Beomgyu is so kind and considerate even as you tell him it’s fine and that you didn’t have any plans after work anyway. 

“I’ll let you get back to work,” you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you as Beomgyu asks you to wish him luck, the smile he sports coy as you follow his command without any hesitation— you take this as your chance to leave before things get awkward, but a part of you itches to go back and talk to him more. 

Beomgyu’s good, you realize as you’re exiting the building, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you realize that he managed to charm you just from that short interaction. 

You get why he’s so popular. 

»»»

Any plans to go to bed early and rest are immediately thrown out the minute your phone buzzes beside you. 

You were just about to put your laptop away— just on the verge of falling asleep, until your eyes reluctantly drifted to read the words that take over your screen— it’s a Twitter notification, the username making your eyes widen as you’re scrambling to unlock your phone and read the rest. 

guiltypleasures

had a shitty shift today, let me take it out on you? https://…….

Oh. oh, oh lord… you can feel the exhaustion lifted off in an instant; suddenly, you’re wide awake, eyes widening as you quickly copy the link of his tweet into your browser— while your mind scolds you for trying to stay up and possibly ruining your sleep schedule, the other, much more sinister part of it tells you that you’re paying for a reason. 

The stream starts in five minutes. 

While you wait anxiously in your room, your hands swiftly going to your nightstand to take out some toys— your trusty vibrator and a dildo you recently bought, all because of him— Beomgyu paces around his setup, gathering his own toys and changing into something that the viewers might like; today's ensemble is a bit more bothersome than usual, but he knows how much his viewers like when he dresses up and role plays a bit with them. 

He was tired; today's shift took a toll on him, and he’d rather be fast asleep than putting on a stream— but after looking at today's earnings, he couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied with it all, deciding on impulse that he would put on a stream to make up for his lack of tips— instead, he’ll earn tips in another way. 

“Hey,” he starts quietly, sitting back in his seat as he takes a glance at his monitor, making sure his face is out of frame. The viewer count rises and comments flood in no time, all of them freaking out about how good he looks in the suit he wears; the all-black ensemble feels stifling to him, but he knows taking it off will be worth it in the end. 

Bad day today? Let us make you feel better :( 

His top tippers are all begging for his attention, desperate and needy as always as they beg for him to get started— but he feels a lot more sluggish than usual, his gloved hands caressing his thighs slowly as he reads the comments out loud. 

“Yeah, today’s shift wasn’t that great,” he speaks, his voice deep and sultry as he allows a moment to pass, reading all the comments that beg for him to use them, “I only thought about you though. Just wanted to see you.”

There he goes again— he’s no longer talking to his audience, but to you instead, closing his eyes and imagining a world where you’re in front of him, or even on the other side of this screen, one of the many faces that lusts over the way his cock begins to harden, the bulge becoming much more apparent as he lets his mind wander.

Unbeknownst to him, you are on the other side of your screen; a shy and flustered mess as you shift in your bed, watching the comments fly by as you wonder if you should join in— not that you could, anyway, your low-tier subscription excluding you from doing such things, as ridiculous as it is. 

You’re practically devouring the man on your screen with your eyes; taking in the way he’s dressed, his pretty hands covered with leather gloves as he runs them slowly over his black trousers; stopping as they run back to his hips, a hand beginning to palm at his bulge as he spreads his legs a little wider in his chair— today's setup is a bit different, along with his attitude as he seems to sweet talk the audience more than usual. 

“Seeing you is the only good part of my day,” he sighed, his free hand trailing up his chest before it stops at his tie— he’s tugging at it, loosening it and allowing it to hang around his neck as he continues, “Can’t stop thinking about how much I want you, how I’d fuck you until all you can remember is my name.”

The offer is tempting; you groan a little as you watch him begin to slide off his blazer, throwing it to the side before he’s unbuttoning his white shirt— he’s making quick work to become undressed, you notice, untucking the material and undoing his belt as the sounds of it jingling ring out in the room. 

Yet, no one knows his name— no one knows anything about him, except the tattoo that runs across his side as he slides off his shirt, the sharp, elegant lines running all along his ribs, trailing down to his hip bones and disappearing under his pants— the rest of him remaining a mystery as you’re left to lust over a nameless, faceless stranger. 

That’s probably where the appeal comes from; you’re able to imagine anything about him, from what his face looks like to what he may do when the cameras are off; you’re free to mold him into the perfect fantasy, using him and projecting onto him as you watch him slowly unzip his pants, a hand slipping under as he begins to jerk himself off teasingly, slow as always as he waits for the requests to come in— like clockwork, your eyes fall to the end of his tattoo, taking in the cute heart that rests by his hip bone, the ending of the elaborate piece that always has you wondering what it’d be like to see in person. 

“Hmm? You want more?” he says, tilting his head slightly as he smiles; it’s mocking as always, biting into his lip as he begins to roll his hips into his hand— making a show out of it, throwing his head back and letting out a breathy moan that has you shivering.

“How about you show me just how much you want it,” he sighs out, smiling evilly as tips begin to come in left and right as a response; you find the way he’s able to manipulate the audience impressive, always able to get them to blow their money on him without hesitation. 

He leans forward, towards the screen, and you’re able to admire his lips as he reads the comments, mouthing them as the lights cast a glow on his pretty, pouty mouth, his neck tempting and begging to be marked as you watch the way he displays it so teasingly. 

“Good girl,” he laughs softly, your eyes flickering to the comment section for a moment; his top tipper has spent an egregious amount on him yet again, and you listen to the way he softly begins to fulfill her request, the rest of the audience momentarily disappearing as he begins to speak to her. 

“Always such an obedient thing for me, hmm? Tell me, what do you want to see?” 

His manipulation is seamless as he watches another tip flood in; all from the same person, the amount doubled in order to get his attention past all the others that blow a measly twenty on him, nothing compared to the three hundred that is highlighted in gold, the comment momentarily pinned for the man to read it.

I want you to fuck your favorite fleshlight and use a vibrator while you think of me. Can you moan my name please? It’s—

Her comment has your eyes widening for a second; it’s bold and demanding, and the idea of requesting such a thing from the camboy in front of you is daunting as you read her request over and over— your face feels hot and you’re already taking off your sweatpants from how needy you are, wondering if the man on your screen will accept such a request.

The first two are nothing to him— in fact, it’s more on the tamer side as he already finds himself reaching for the aforementioned toys. 

The problem lies in the last request. 

He’s not one to moan names on a live stream; he usually saves it for personal requests he gets, the videos much more personal and calculated as he gets to take his time with them— so for his top tipper to request such a thing on his livestream is a bit more difficult; especially when he spends this time thinking of you. 

But then again, it’s three hundred dollars. 

“Okay then, is that what you want? Hmm?” he teases softly, purring out her name at the end as he watches the way she tips him again; it has him laughing in amusement, sitting back in his chair before he’s crossing his arms over his chest, singing out her name with a soft lilt as he watches the way she continues to pour money at him like it’s nothing. 

Soon enough, more requests come in; all with the same amount and request, hoping that they’ll be able to hear their names fall from his lips as he slowly begins to tug down his pants, raising his hips as he’s left in nothing but his underwear, the briefs straining painfully as his cock twitches, begging to be free. 

“One at a time,” he murmurs sweetly, patronizing as he mumbles that it’s her turn now, watching the way she seems to react with every purr of her name. 

The sudden trend of requests makes his stream slightly difficult; he’s always found himself to be a lot more into them when he’s mentally moaning out your name, lips ghosting over the syllables every time he’s coming undone. Instead, he’s forced to moan out the name of a stranger as he begins to palm himself slowly, even though his mind thinks back to you and the small interaction you had today. 

He feels his cock twitch at the mere thought. It’s painfully hard and won’t stop leaking as he takes it out, not needing to use any lubricant as he begins stroking it slowly, hips jumping at the feeling of the leather against his skin— and though his lips moan another’s name, his eyes remain closed, thinking about you. 

You and your meek personality, always letting guests take out their anger on you before they’re turning around and sucking up to Beomgyu— he’s always had to resist the urge to fuck them up as a response, knowing that you think no one else notices your sullied mood and your crestfallen gaze every time they seem to get away with it. 

He’s never free to comfort you. You’re both far too busy to be around each other for longer than a few minutes, and today was like a blessing as he caught you at just the right time— he would have stayed the rest of his shift back there talking to you, if only he hadn’t been playing the part of a sweet, considerate guy. 

He thinks back to how you felt against him. How, even though your actions were innocent and you were much more focused on taking out the stain of his uniform, he still felt the warmth of your hand against his chest, delicate and smaller than his as you leaned in close enough to allow himself to get a whiff of your sweet scent.

And those glasses. 

He never thought he would find himself hung up on such an item, but the way they make your eyes look big and sparkly is practically enough to make him cum on the spot. Instead, he grabs a hold of his newest fleshlight, soft and tight, just how he imagines you would be. 

It’s perverted, but as he slides his cock into the tight sleeve, groaning slightly at how he’s barely able to push through, he imagines that it’s you. His mind begins to wonder what it would be like if you were above him right now, your thighs encasing his and your pussy leaking onto his cock as he fucked into you without abandon. 

As he turns on his vibrator, running it along his balls and letting out pathetic moans, he imagines what it would be like to use it on you while he fucked you, imagining the way your tits would bounce and your eyes would squeeze shut as he made you cum until you were unable to hold yourself up. 

On the other side of the screen, you imagine the same thing. Your legs are shaking and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as you follow the pace he’s set, pressing your vibrator firmly against your clit and letting out weak whimpers at the sensation. You try to ignore the way he calls out the same name over and over, wondering instead what it would be like to hear your name from his lips— the sound is ringing throughout your mind the moment you imagine it, burying your face into your pillow as you increase the intensity of your toy. 

“Let me fill you up, want you dripping with my cum,” he growls out, the sloppy sounds of his thrusts only spurring you on as your thighs close around your hand, hips grinding into your dildo as you sink your teeth into your lip ruthlessly— it’s almost enough to draw blood as you watch the way he cums into his toy, hips continuing to rut into the it even long after he’s come, a white ring forming at the base as he turns the vibrator off from the overstimulation. 

“_— Shit,” Beomgyu almost slipped up for a second, proceeding to moan out his requested name repeatedly as a distraction. 

And you know you’re imagining it, but you’re briefly coming undone after that, your pussy tightening against your dildo and your legs shaking as you run your vibrator along your clit, imagining that it’s him inside you, that he’s currently spilling his load in your cunt— your mind swearing that you almost heard your name slip from his lips for a second— and it isn’t until you recover from your orgasm, the sound of another name leaving his lips repeatedly making you come to, that you realize it was your brain playing trick on you to help you get off. 

But you weren’t imagining things. 

Beomgyu hopes his audience didn’t pick up on his small mistake, but he’s relieved to see that they’re none the wiser as they continue to request to hear their name next.

“Let’s see…” he says, and you’re barely able to keep your eyes open as you watch the way he leans towards the camera again, reading requests off the monitor as he grinds his hips into his toy absentmindedly throughout it.

He’s barely getting started.

In turn, so are you. 

»»»

Beomgyu is the sweetest guy you’ve ever met. 

After your brief conversation at the restaurant, you quickly found yourself talking to him more often. 

It turned into him sitting next to you during the one class you shared, your friendship growing stronger day by day as you got to know him better. 

He acts like a puppy; he’s so sweet and kind, his voice soft and endearing every time he spoke to you— and, like a stark contrast to the flirty and outgoing guy you saw during your shifts at the restaurant, he was very shy, ever the gentleman as he always treated you with nothing but kindness. 

“Good morning,” Beomgyu hums, sitting in the seat next to yours before he’s placing down a cup of coffee, “I got this for you. I already finished mine, but I thought you might like some too.”

Sweet gestures like these were common with him; despite your insistence that he really didn’t need to, he always did it anyway, ever the charming man as he sent you a cute smile that would have you unable to say no. 

“Hey, I heard you’re friends with Yeonjun?” you ask, reluctantly accepting the drink after he insisted that you didn’t need to feel bad; your lips are curving into a small smile as you take a drink, stomach flipping at the realization that it was your usual order— you’re surprised he was able to remember it after the first time you got coffee together. 

Beomgyu nods in confirmation. You’re a bit surprised by his answer, unable to see the two be friends due to their contrasting personalities. You can tell that he’s curious as to why you’re asking as he pouts slightly— a habit he always does when he’s confused— and you’re quick to swallow down your drink and give him context.

“He’s having a party this weekend. I was wondering if you’re going?” you say, and Beomgyu feels his stomach drop slightly; not because you were going— well, not entirely, at least— but because if you were going, you’d definitely end up seeing a different side of him. And after seeing how fond you are of his puppy-like behavior, he dreads seeing your reaction to a much more reckless side of him.

“I… think so,” he says sheepishly, wondering what kind of excuse he should make to not go— but he pauses, seeing the way you pout at him, grabbing his arm desperately as you lean into him as you plead.

“You should go— pleeeasee? Yeonjun’s parties are super over the top and he always invites hella people, I don’t wanna be there alone.” 

You have this man wrapped around your finger; with one look at your face, your gaze sweet and pleading as you cutely pout at him expectantly, he finds himself agreeing, unable to fight back a smile as he watches the way you cheer triumphantly, quieting down the moment the lecture starts. 

Beomgyu will definitely have to be careful this weekend— but seeing you will be worth it, even if he’s risking the chance of potentially changing the way you’ll view him forever. 

»»»

You have yet to see Beomgyu. 

The party started hours ago, yet you’ve only been present for a few as you’ve already both greeted and lost Yeonjun, forced to mingle with people you barely know as you all hang out in his backyard— because lord knows how packed and stuffy the place would’ve been if he held it inside. 

You currently find yourself playing cup pong, teaming with the girl in your communications class as you go against two strangers— Yunjin is much friendlier and outgoing when she’s drunk, cheering you on and yelling triumphantly with every ball you get in— you’ve barely had anything to drink as a result, and Yunjin is eager to fix that as she hands you a small shot cup; you’re hesitant at first, only accepting it after she explains that it isn’t strong at all, the soju mixed in with other things as she tells you you’ll barely feel it. 

It’s not that you’re a lightweight that would get drunk off one shot, but you’d rather not get shit-faced when you have yet to find Beomgyu; your eyes scan over the place once more after you take the shot, Yunjin’s cheers falling deaf onto your ears as you allow the team in front of you have their turn. 

“Drinking already?”

Beomgyu has snuck up on you successfully— you’re flinching in surprise as you feel his hand fall gently on the small of your back, leaning in close so he’s properly able to speak to you over the music. 

Beomgyu feels as though looking at you is a sin; he’s forcing himself to keep his eyes off you, listening to the way you ramble into his ear about how happy you are to see him, your head tilting back and exposing the column of your neck to him to get him to hear you. 

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he comments, oddly hung up on it as he watches the way your smile only widens.

“Yeah, didn’t feel like it,” you say lightheartedly, leaning back against Beomgyu and finding comfort in the position that allows the two of you to speak over the booming music.

Unbeknownst to you, he takes this moment to drink in your appearance. The white, oversized button-up you wear is left completely open as it drapes over your figure, the light blue denim shorts entirely too tempting as they ride up your thighs, much too short to even cover you properly— but of course, that’s the look you were going for, leaving your bottoms unbuttoned and folded down as you allow your bikini to peek through— the color is flattering on your skin, and Beomgyu wonders if he’ll be strong enough to resist you, eyes flickering over to the pool that’s filled with plenty of people as a distraction. 

“You wanna go in?” you ask, and Beomgyu realizes you’ve followed his line of sight, shaking his head quickly in response. You laugh, turning around briefly as you listen to the sounds of Yunjin telling you that you have to drink— you freely down the shot in the plastic cup this time, much more at ease now that Beomgyu is around— and turn back to him, pulling at his shirt slightly as you take in his attire.

“Come on, you’re definitely dressed for the part!” 

And that much was true— though he realized halfway through his drive here that doing so would not be a good idea, especially if he wanted to keep up this cute, innocent act of his.

“It’s too full right now,” he says, his excuse valid as you study the pool for a moment— only to agree, turning back to the game as you tell Beomgyu to cheer for you with a cheeky smile. 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to get tipsy— all because you made the mistake of trusting Yunjin to play properly during her turn, missing entirely and proceeding to get the two of you obliterated after she went against one of the guys on the opposite team (Jake, he later told you.)— but you’re quick to make sure to bring Beomgyu down with you, handing him every other shot you get as you tell him he’s now on your team.

What you don’t seem to realize is that Beomgyu is not a lightweight— far from it, watching with amusement as you slowly begin to get tipsy, your mouth loosening and your personality becoming much more outgoing after losing the game to Jake and his friend— three times in a row. 

“Again?” you ask, laughing at the way Yunjin yells in agreement— Beomgyu has to tug on your shirt to get you away, telling you that it’s definitely not a good idea to go again, especially with someone as uncoordinated as Yunjin. 

“Why didn’t you play with me then?” you say, leaning against him as you smile up at him prettily; he’s leading you away from the table and towards the grass, over to where a small campfire is lit, plenty of chairs scattered about as the music becomes louder in this area. 

“You don’t like games?” you ask him, stumbling to a stop and tugging at his shirt to stop with you, just so he’s able to hear you better. Coyly, you smile, your eyes twinkling mischievously as you lean in to speak to him quietly, “Don’t you wanna play with me?” 

Your words are fairly innocent— but your delivery is not, and it has Beomgyu sputtering in surprise as he wonders how he should respond to such a random advance— though he doesn’t need to in the end, watching as you break character and laugh at your own antics, perking up immediately as you listen to the song that’s playing. 

“Oh, I love this song!” 

You’re dancing carelessly to the song without a second thought, pulling Beomgyu in and laughing at the way he seems reluctant to let loose; it’s probably the alcohol in your system that’s making you act like such an idiot, leaning against him and smiling at the way he seems adamant to avoid your gaze. 

“You know, I just realized that we’re matching!” you laugh, tugging at the collar of his white button-up before you’re glancing down; it’s tucked neatly into his denim shorts, and your smile is only growing wider as you look back up at him, “we look like a couple or something.”

Your words affect him much more than he’d like to admit— but he has no time to dwell on it, eyes looking past you and at Yeonjun, who walks straight toward the two of you with a grin stuck on his face. 

“Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were here?” Yeonjun yells, grabbing your attention as you’re turning to greet Yeonjun; you’re bubbly and seem to find everything funny as you giggle slightly, waving at him happily before you’re stepping away from Beomgyu. 

“I couldn’t find you,” Beomgyu mumbles, watching the way Yeonjun slings an arm around your shoulders casually— he feels oddly angered at the sight, unsure why it irritates him so much to see the two of you act so close. 

“Didn’t know you two were friends,” Yeonjun says, and he watches as you begin to ramble about your history with Beomgyu with a small smile— scanning your outfit, he frowns. 

“You haven’t gotten in the pool yet?” Yeonjun asks, raising a brow at your entirely dry figure; you shake your head, which only makes him tilt his head in confusion, “I thought you said that’s the only reason you were coming?”

“Well, I just haven’t gotten the chance to,” you say sheepishly, the shy smile on your face quickly turning to one of confusion the moment Yeonjun hugs you; he’s got you tight, and you’re stumbling along with him as you begin questioning what he’s doing, your eyes widening the moment you peek over his shoulder— you’re heading straight to the pool, the volume of your yells rising significantly as you begin to struggle against your friend, yelling at Beomgyu to come to your rescue. 

(It’s all for dramatic effect. Yeonjun laughs at the way you pretend to struggle against him, and he pretends he doesn’t hear your laugh of joy the moment he falls over the edge, letting go of you in time and forcing the two of you into the water.)

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that the water isn’t freezing; you personally thank Yeonjun’s heating system as you come up for air, wiping at your face and adjusting your hair as you begin to splash Yeonjun, insulting him for being such a bully. 

Your movements are immediately stopping the moment you spot Beomgyu at the edge— Yeonjun is quick to leave, sending you a small wink (the term “wink” used loosely) before he’s off to find his next target—he’s taken his shoes off and he looks more than ready to jump in, and you can’t help but laugh sweetly at his concern before you realize that you should probably take off your shoes as well.

“You okay?” He asks you, watching the way you cringe as you take off your shoes, tossing them over the edge and leaving them to dry as you swim to where he stands. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you smile, watching the way he seems hesitant to do anything— to get in or leave, you’re unsure. A second passes before an evil thought pops into your head, taking notice of your equally soaked clothes that remain stuck on your body.

“Oh. Hey, could you hold this?” you begin, shedding off your shirt before you’re bundling it into a ball, holding out the fabric for him— he crouches down, arm reaching out for your shirt— and you seize your moment, both hands grabbing onto him and tugging as hard as you can. 

And Beomgyu, in his unguarded state, falls in immediately. 

The laugh you let out is pure evil as you watch him fall in, flailing for a second before he’s coming up for air— and honestly, Beomgyu can’t even be mad, at least not when you’re laughing so hard, your face lit up as you take in the way his hair is completely flat on his head. 

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it,” you say, but you don’t look sorry at all as you swim over to your shirt that’s now sunk into the bottom of the pool. You’re diving down to get it, quick to throw it over the edge and by your shoes before you’re tugging off your shorts. You’re glancing back at Beomgyu, relieved to see he doesn’t look angry at all, when you spot something peculiar. 

“Woah, what’s that?” you ask, approaching Beomgyu eagerly as he’s quick to follow your gaze. His cheeks are on fire and his hands are quick to fly onto his ribs, turning away from your curious hands and even more curious gaze as he stutters out an excuse. 

“It’s nothing.” That’s probably one of the lamest things Beomgyu has ever said, and you’re not believing him for a second as your eyes widen at his sudden change in behavior. 

“Is it a tattoo?” you ask, trying to get a peek through the cracks of his fingers; but the water makes everything blurry, unable to get the details of it before you’re humming appreciatively. “Hmm. That’s cool— I didn’t know that was such a common spot to get tattooed.”

“Is it?” he asks, and suddenly, he doesn’t seem to want to hide it anymore. Your curious gaze and awed compliments have him smiling, raising a brow as he feels himself become more confident— the idea that you of all people would judge him seems ridiculous now.

“Who else do you know that has a tattoo here?” you’re late to process the question— only because your eyes are widening as he admits that it is a tattoo, the words flying out of your mouth before you can truly process if it’s a good idea. 

“I don’t know. I’ve just seen it online, I guess.” Of course, this could mean many things— but it means one thing to you, and you’re practically biting your tongue from the sheer terror that you inadvertently admitted to a guilty, secret pleasure of yours.

“Online?” he asks, and you try to not look suspicious as you choose to simply remain quiet and nod. 

“Yeah, like on Pinterest and stuff,” you add, hoping that it’s enough to prove your innocence (to yourself) as you watch Beomgyu nod along to your words. 

“Aren’t your clothes weighing you down?” you ask, eyeing the way he’s barely moved with a small smile, “or like, are you not wearing anything underneath?”

Most of the people here came with their swimsuits underneath— some just opted to strip to their underwear, which is why you didn’t feel alarmed to find people stripping their layers in order to jump into the pool. 

Though, now that you think about it, you feel a bit bad for forcing Beomgyu to get in without much of a warning. Your concerns are quickly soothed, however, when Beomgyu shakes his head, hands coming up to unbutton his shirt before he’s laughing softly at your words. 

“I was wearing my shorts underneath these,” he confesses, your eyes widening as you find yourself going silent— because wow, was Beomgyu always this ripped?

You feel odd as you watch him strip, sliding off his shirt as most of his torso remains underwater; he’s slowly making his way to where you stand by the edge, and you can feel your heart stopping as you take in the look in his eyes. 

Dark. Dangerous. Tempting. You think you’re imagining things as you look away, gulping heavily as you feel yourself sobering suddenly. He’s throwing his shirt in the direction that your pile of clothes lie, and you feel oddly embarrassed by the way you have to look away as he strips his bottoms off as well. 

You’re only glancing back in time to see him hover out of the pool for a second, his upper body coming out of the water as he takes a moment to lay out both your clothing properly. 

Holy shit. 

Was it common for people to have the same tattoo? It surely was, right? Those are the only things that are going through your mind as you observe Beomgyu’s tattoo, taking in the familiarity of each line as your eyes drift down to his v-line— your eyes spot the small, perfect heart that rests right at his pubic bone.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god oh god, you think, trying your best to not lose your shit and melt in a puddle of horror and embarrassment as you realize that Beomgyu has the exact tattoo as guiltypleasures.

It had to be a popular tattoo. Or maybe it was a reference to something, or a drawing a tattoo artist put out to let other people use— anything, it had to be anything else than the conclusion your mind was terrified of making, meeting Beomgyu’s gaze shyly as you realize that he’s caught you staring, hard.

“It’s pretty,” you breathe out, unsure you can trust your voice as you watch Beomgyu sink back into the pool, “Is it… a reference to something?”

Please say yes. Please say yes.

“Thanks,” he starts, leaving you on edge as he takes a moment to inspect his tattoo— running his fingertips over it, tracing over the delicate lines in a way that has you gripping onto the edge of the pool, “and no, it’s not. I designed it myself.”

You’re gonna pass out.

“Really?” you grit out, hoping he can’t pick up on the tension of your voice as you smile, albeit forced, “Like, it’s one of a kind?”

“Yup,” he grins, staring down at his tattoo with a proud look on his face, “One of a kind. My tattoo artist didn’t even post it, upon my request.”

You’re gonna cry. Maybe you’ll scream, or even sink into the pool and try to drown yourself. 

Because Choi Beomgyu, your closest friend for the past few months and the man you may or may have not been beginning to crush on, is guiltypleasures, the man you lust after every night and fucking pay to watch. 

You know they say that quiet guys are the freakiest, but this is too fucking much. 

“That’s so cool,” you say, sinking into the pool so the water is up to your mouth, hoping that you won’t blurt out any more stupidities as you stare off into the distance, attempting to let this new information settle in. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and you hate how attentive Beomgyu has become— even more because everything is starting to click, his husky and deep voice a replica of your stupid camboy’s, your body reacting involuntarily to the sound of it as you simply nod softly. 

“Mhmm,” you hum out, coming out of the water a bit so you can speak, “I think those drinks from earlier fucked up my stomach— I should go home.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu says, and you feel awful for the way he’s become confused at your sudden shift in mood, “Are you sure you’ll be okay driving—?”

“I Ubered here,” you mumble, oddly embarrassed at your words, “cause I knew I’d probably drink a lot.” 

“Well then let me take you home,” he insists, ever the gentleman as you try to say that he shouldn’t, that he should just stay and enjoy the party. 

“It’s dangerous to call an Uber at this hour though,” he continues, his stupid fucking puppy eyes taking a toll on your resolve as you bite your lip, “Plus, I only really came to this party because of you.”

God, what the hell was this behavior?! This innocent, shy, and sweet Beomgyu was a complete one-eighty— scratch that— was an entirely different fucking person than the one that always talked down at you at night, spilling filth like it was in his nature and treating you like you were worthless.

It was a bit terrifying as you watched the way he remained entirely oblivious to the Earth-shattering realization, getting out of the pool and reaching out to help you out with a sweet smile. 

After a second, you take it. 

You feel so awkward as you gather your clothes; you’re jumpy and you’re sure Beomgyu has picked up on it as he eyes you from time to time, watching as you wring out your clothes as much as you can before you’re slipping on your shirt, your shorts left in your hand as you avoid Beomgyu’s eyes entirely. 

“I have a few blankets in my car— you should use those to keep yourself warm,” he says softly, looking back at you and frowning at the way you only nod with a tense smile. 

Was he wrong about you? Were you lying when you reacted positively to his tattoo? Beomgyu has no idea why something as simple as a tattoo would change the way you treat him entirely, but he’s determined to get to the bottom of this as you enter his car, entirely stiff as you wrap one of his aforementioned blankets around yourself. 

“Hey, did something happen tonight?” He asks you halfway through his drive, licking his lips nervously as he watches the way you jump in your seat, not expecting his question at all as you remain silent for a second.

“Uhm, no?” you say, though you seem unsure of your own answer as you wrap the blankets a little tighter around yourself, “I’m telling you, it was probably the drinks— I didn’t think my stomach would be so sensitive tonight.”

Your explanation is entirely plausible, but Beomgyu doesn’t believe it as he watches the way you remain tense, his car slowing to a stop as the two of you wait at the stoplight in an awkward silence. 

“You’re lying,” Beomgyu says, deciding that it’s better to just be bold instead of tiptoeing around the subject, “Is it because of my tattoo?”

Your lips press together. 

“It is,” he says, and he feels an unexpected wave of disappointment and anger wash over him, “did something that small put you off that much?”

“That’s not it,” you say, your heart pounding against your chest and your body heating up as you realize that you’ve upset him— and greatly, because you’re able to see the way his brows knit together and his hand tightens on the steering wheel as he begins to drive again. 

Did he think you were judging him? That you thought less of him because of such a small thing? 

“Then what is it?” he insists, and you’re mortified to see that you’re stuck in traffic, victim to Beomgyu’s sharp gaze that demands answers, “Cause you’ve been acting weird since I showed it to you.”

“I’ve seen it before,” you mutter quietly, sinking into your seat from the humiliation, “I recognized it. Your tattoo.”

Beomgyu pauses. Then he thinks of the many times he’s had his shirt ride up when he’s around you, from stretching to taking off his hoodie and having his undershirt get pulled up along with it.

“Okay?”

“Like. Online.”

That’s enough to leave him silent. Stupefied, even. One glance at you and your body language is enough to confirm that it’s exactly what he’s thinking, your posture so small that you look like you wish you could disappear. 

“You’ve—“ he swallows, wondering what else to say as traffic begins moving again, “like… Twitter—?”

“Your streams.” 

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, Beomgyu needs to get the fuck out of the car this instant, because his dick is already hardening and he can feel his brain short-circuiting at your words— you watch his streams. 

In your mind, you feel as though you’ve completely dug a hole for yourself— Beomgyu is probably horrified at your confession, but it’s not as though you knew it was him, or that you had any malicious intent, or that—!

All Beomgyu can think of is how he shouldn’t park the car in the middle of the road and fuck you stupid. 

“Did you watch them a lot?” he asks you, his voice eerily quiet and stable, and oh no he’s interrogating you right now, this is the end for you.

“Yeah,” you say, deciding to be completely transparent now that you’ve decided to tell the truth, “I’m sorry.” 

Is it possible to come untouched like this? Beomgyu might just find out, because the way your voice is so meek and shy and guilty has him biting down on his lip, his mind growing foggier and his foot pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder as he begins to weave through lanes. 

“You were a subscriber then,” he says calmly, and you feel as though he’s trying to humiliate you on purpose as you nod your head in admittance— unbeknownst to you, that’s exactly what he’s doing, enjoying the way he’s breaking you down from just a few questions with sick pleasure. 

“How much money did you spend on me then?” You’re finding his line of questioning a bit odd at this point, but you refuse to look up from your lap as you find yourself answering anyways. 

“I was just a low-tier subscriber…” you say, and it feels even more humiliating to admit that you cheaped out on him— what the hell was wrong with you?

“Low-tier? Not even a single tip?” he repeats, and you don’t seem to register the way he pouts at you until it’s far too late.

Stopping at a red light, he grabs your chin, turning your face roughly so you’re looking at him— and he’s back, the man behind the screen, except this time you can see the sheer pity that fills his gaze as he speaks to you as though you’re lower than him.

“How are you gonna make it up to me now?”

»»»

God. Fuck. Are you dreaming? You think you might pass out.

“I know, I know I said I wouldn’t stream tonight— shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here?”

Your stomach is twisted in knots and you feel small as you attempt to take in everything properly— Beomgyu’s setup, the same room you’ve seen countless times before— you’re able to see it all, from his large computer monitors, his filming camera, to his grandiose bed and the insane amount of toys he keeps on standby. 

You shift restlessly on your feet, entirely bare save for a shirt that Beomgyu let you borrow— another white button-up, the very same one that he loved to wear when he dressed up, now hanging from your figure as he allowed the two of you to freshen up the moment you got to his home. 

Nervously, you had left the shirt completely buttoned up; you watched from behind his camera as he continued to sweet talk his viewers, dressed comfortably in a sweater and sweats, his attire a complete contrast to your own. 

“You’re happy to see me? I don’t believe you,” he smiles, and you feel as though you’re back to being a faceless member of his stream as you press your thighs together, able to hear the way notifications pop up on his computer, all of them signifying a new tip. 

“You know, today’s a pretty special occasion actually,” he begins, pausing to see his comments and the reactions within them, “you’re curious? Do you wanna try something new with me?”

Yes. It’s the only thing he sees in his comments, and he lets out a soft laugh before he’s turning back to his camera.

Then, he’s looking past it.

“Come here, baby.”

You knew this was coming— you agreed to this, for crying out loud, but you still feel as though your legs are made of jello as you hesitate, biting your lip before your eyes are widening nervously, the safe word the two of you established beforehand running through your mind like a mantra you mustn’t forget. 

“Come on, you don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” he asks, eyes flickering over to his screen, watching the way everyone seems to go haywire from his words, “See? They’re curious, they want to see you.”

You’re taking your first step towards the camera— then another, and another, until you’re walking past the setup, your back facing the camera as you make your way to where he sits at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do as you remain frozen in front of him.

“What, are you nervous?” he asks, and he’s only able to let out a mean laugh the moment you’re nodding in response, unable to use your voice properly— that’ll change soon, he thinks, reaching for your hands and guiding them to his shoulders. 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, aiming for your thighs next as he’s tugging at them, pleased with the way you let him mold you to his desired position, your thighs on either side of his as you hover over him pathetically, “I know they’ll love you.”

Neither of your full faces can be seen— but the audience can definitely see the way he captures your lips in a harsh kiss, filled with nothing but pure need as he finally gets to feel you properly— you feel as though you’re about to run out air when he finally pulls away, laughing as he feels the way you buttoned every single button of the shirt he gave you. 

“Now why would you do that?” he whispers against your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulders pathetically as you watch him rip it open— the viewers are going wild at the sight, tipping ridiculous amounts of money just so they can get Beomgyu to see their requests; curiously your eyes drift to his monitor.

You practically collapse at the things you read on the screen.

Finger her. Eat her out. Use a vibrator on her, tie her up, breed her until she can’t walk straight, use a dildo on her— 

The horror comes from the fact that Beomgyu is clearly considering doing all of it.

“What do you think baby?” he asks you, pressing his hand on the small of your back and forcing you to arch into him, your ass perking out and your cunt left to be entirely displayed as he trails his hand up your back, lifting your shirt along with it as he allows the viewers to get a good look at you.

“Anything that piques your interest?” he whispers, your head buried in his shoulder as you shake from the embarrassment of it all, “or…”

You jolt at the way his hand lands a sharp smack on your ass. He’s quick to soothe the area, smiling at the way he takes in the small whimper you let out, burying your face deeper into his shoulder and arching more in response. He lands another one, much more harsher than the last as his hand immediately drifts to your pussy, spreading you for the camera and watching the way you practically glisten under the light. 

“Should I decide how I get to use you for myself?”

He’s a bit surprised to find that you’re quick to nod at his second request, much too shy to even lift your head from where it rests as your fingers dig into his skin. 

He smiles, his eyes drifting back to the monitor as he begins reading over their requests. 

“Hmm, are you shy, princess?” he asks, fingers trailing along your slit, feeling the way your hole flutters at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside as you whine quietly, nodding at his words.

“But you’re so fucking wet, and we haven’t even done anything,” slowly, his fingers slip inside— you’re both moaning at the feeling, and Beomgyu thinks that he might just be the one to cum as he feels the way you stretch around his fingers. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, beginning to test out the waters by scissoring you— spreading you out for the camera, watching over your shoulder as your arousal practically leaks out; he gulps, unable to keep his eyes away from the sight as he sighs.

“Feels so soft and warm,” he mutters, placing a kiss on your temple before he’s reaching for something off-screen— the box of toys, you realize, forced to keep your face buried in his shoulder in an attempt to not show your face to his audience. 

“Just like I thought you would be,” he says, smiling against your skin as he murmurs the words into your ear— just for you to hear, not for the thousands of people who are currently watching the stream.

“Do you know what I thought about every time I went live?” he asks, sitting up and shifting so that you’re back in position, shaking your head softly as you feel his fingers begin to circle your entrance. 

“You.” the stretch you suddenly feel has you moaning pathetically, the first sound the viewers are able to hear as the comments begin to fly past— your legs are shaking at the feeling of him slowly pushing the silicone dildo into your pussy, thick and long as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling tears prick at your eyes from how full you feel.

“I thought of you. Every time.” 

Beomgyu’s eyes are dark as his hand grabs at your ass, spreading your cheeks and showing off the way the dildo begins disappearing into your tight cunt, your arousal already beginning to drip down the toy with every slow thrust of his. 

“Wished you were there every time I would stream. I thought about fucking you the way I would fuck my toys,” his thrusts begin speeding up; you’re a moaning mess against him as you push your ass back, showcasing yourself perfectly and pushing up against the toy that he continues to ram into you— you’re jolting back into him with every thrust, your hands beginning to cramp with how hard you’re holding on to him.

“I would always moan your name too, did you ever notice?”

Your mind goes back to the time you thought you heard it— and, unexpectedly, you’re coming undone, reaching your peak as you respond with a pathetic yes…! The realization that it had all been real much more overwhelming than you thought. 

Beomgyu continues to fuck the toy into you even long after you’re done coming; you’re a whimpering, crying mess against him, the stimulation making your mind muddled as you quietly attempt to get him to stop. 

“Hmm? What do you want baby?” he asks, lips trailing down your neck and to your shoulders, where he begins to slip off your shirt so that you’re more exposed. He remains fully clothed as he begins sucking bruises into your skin, following one of his requests to mark up your pretty skin— his hair falls over his face, covering him momentarily as he begins drifting along your body carelessly.

It’s too much— yet, it’s not enough to have you using your safe word, and the fact makes Beomgyu smile as he bottoms out the toy inside you, grinding it into your pathetic pussy as he watches the way a ring of your cum begins to form around the base. 

“Come on, talk to me. We’re waiting,” you’re hesitant to speak— that much is clear, especially when you know how much traction this stream is currently getting, the sound of tips constant as you shake your head in defeat. 

“No? Okay then,” your shirt is being slipped off, leaving you naked as you wince slightly at the feeling of your garment being removed. Once again, Beomgyu is moving you around, and you’re facing the camera now as your legs are pried open by his own, the toy still stuffed inside you as you sit on Beomgyu’s lap— right on his hard cock, whining softly as you feel him begin to hold your hips down, grinding into you for some release. 

“Don’t wanna use your words? Don’t wanna say anything to me or the viewers?” he tries again, eyes narrowing at the way you remain disobedient and shake your head, laying back against him as you pant softly.

“You’re not gonna thank our viewers for wanting me to please you, you fucking whore?” his hands are swift, and before you realize what he’s doing, your hands are cuffed behind your back, the fuzzy feeling reminding you of the cuffs he uses on himself sometimes. 

“Fine. You wanna be ungrateful, stay quiet?” every sound that leaves your lips is unsure and soft, barely able to reach the microphone of the camera as Beomgyu scoffs at you. “Then stay fucking quiet. I don’t wanna hear a single word from you, understand?”

He doesn’t let you respond— of course he wouldn’t let you— but the way your mouth falls open suggests that you almost went against his command, the vibrator that he now pressed onto your clit making your legs shake with the sudden stimulation, threatening to close before Beomgyu’s own pried you back open swiftly. 

“Look at you. Like a bitch in heat, only thinking about yourself,” he growls, his other hand beginning to thrust the toy back into you at a harsh pace, listening to the sounds of your arousal and the toy smacking against your skin with a satisfied groan, “Do you have any idea how many people wish they were in your place, wish they could be getting fucked stupid instead of having to sit and watch as I do it to you?”

He pauses. Then, he turns up the intensity of the vibrator with a cruel laugh. 

“You would fucking know,” he seethes, taking in the way you writhe against him pathetically, biting at your lip to keep quiet as your hands struggle behind your back, “shit, can’t you hear how pathetic you sound? I bet you were a lot louder when you watched me, just another of my useless viewers that wish that I would fuck you— that I would even fucking acknowledge you.”

Everything that happens next is all a blur— your mind is foggy and you’re coming undone as you feel Beomgyu bite down on your neck, unable to hold back the pure keen of pleasure that rips through you, a string of unintelligible sounds flowing out of you desperately as you cream around the toy, feeling tears sting your eyes the moment Beomgyu decides to turn the intensity up again.

“Take it. I know you can,” he laughs purely because he knows that you have yet to use your safe word. It’s even worse because he’s right, the overstimulation fogging your mind and making you melt in his arms, still able to trust him even if your mind isn’t entirely there.

After a moment, the vibrator is turned off— you can hear him toss it to the side before he’s pulling the dildo out of your aching cunt, your body twitching at the sudden feeling before your cum is oozing out, dripping all over Beomgyu’s sweats and onto his sheets as he merely laughs at you. 

You’re being turned around again— you feel woozy as you cling to Beomgyu, barely capable of hovering over him as he simply looks up at you, his eyes holding that same, innocent puppy-like look that got you trapped in his clutches in the first place.

“I feel so stuffy,” he pouts, tilting his head up at you as you simply whine incoherently in response, “I know baby. Won’t you help me out?” 

It takes you a second to even register his request, your hands suddenly freed by him before you finally realize what he asked; your hands are slow and clumsy as you reach for the hem of his sweater, barely able to tug it up before he’s helping you out— your hands land on his shoulders once more for stability, your gaze falling on his chest and trailing down curiously. 

And there it is. The very tattoo that got you into this mess, though this time you’re free to gawk at it, not paying attention to the way Beomgyu realized he caught you staring until he’s grabbing your hand, placing it on his chest and trailing it down, allowing you to feel him up as he shudders slightly at the feeling.

Your fingers trace over the tattoo. All the way down, following every elaborate line until you’re stopped by the hem of his pants, hands immediately slipping under before you’re tugging them off, pulling off his boxers too as you feel him lift his hips, left just as bare as you before he smiles. 

You feel his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he begins to rub it against your slit; teasing you with the tip, looking over your shoulder to see what his viewers may be saying. 

“What do you think?” He asks, pushing his tip into your cunt before he’s pulling back out. The action has you whining hopelessly, and Beomgyu has to take a second to recollect his resolve, pausing all movements in order to not come then and there.

“Should I fuck her? Does she deserve it?” He asks, looking over at you, cooing softly at the way your eyes remain glassy and fucked out, “Don’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry, not when you’ve been so ungrateful to our viewers.”

A tip catches his attention, and he’s briefly scanning over the amount and request before he’s biting back a smile.

“See? Even though you haven’t said a word to them, they still want to see me fuck you,” he says, taking your hands off his shoulders and leaving you to wobble momentarily as he places your cuffs back on. 

“Aren’t they the sweetest?”

You’re barely able to process what’s going on— all you know is that your position changes within seconds, and your face is buried into the mattress while your ass is up in the air, your legs shaky as you’re barely able to hold yourself up; luckily for you, Beomgyu is there to help, hands grabbing onto your hips before he’s making you lean back. 

His cock is poking at your entrance, and he’s already able to feel the way your cunt tries to suck him in as he passes his tip along your entrance, left entranced with the way you look under him, a complete, ruined mess as you quietly whine out to him, your voice muffled from where your face remained in his sheets.

It’s cute, really, the way you’re able to focus so hard on keeping your face hidden— if you lifted your head now, every single viewer on his screen would be able to drink up your expression as he fucked you— the thought irritates Beomgyu.

He’ll just have to make sure to fuck you until you’re too weak to move. 

“God, you’re such a brat,” he groans out, entering you slowly and feeling the way you clamp onto him dangerously; even with how wet you are, he finds it difficult to fuck you, gritting his teeth and taking a moment where he merely concentrates on not coming inside you then and there. 

“Stop fucking squeezing like that— ah— shit—,” it seems as though your pussy has him going stupid, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slowly pulls out— the whine you let out is long and lethal, so desperate and carnal that Beomgyu finds himself losing control; tightening his hold on your hips, he begins to fuck into you without a care.

“Such a good little pussy,” he grits out, watching the way your ass bounces against him with every thrust, “fuck, wish you’d let me fuck you sooner— would’ve made you mine, wouldn’t be able to get enough of you— god, fuck—!” 

The way you tighten at his words is dangerous. He’s cursing and talking down like he always does, but this time, it’s just for you. The very thought is enough to have you clenching around him again, mouth agape and drooling against his sheets as your sounds get louder. 

Another tip rings through— the same person from before, repeating the only part of their previous request that Beomgyu has yet to fulfill. 

Won’t she say thank you?

The words have him stuttering out a laugh, unable to help the way he moans in between. His thrusts slow, and he’s bottoming out inside you before his motions are nothing but a slow grind, rutting his hips into your aching pussy while he reaches for something off-screen. 

Your whines and soft complaints at the sudden change of pace are brief— because soon after a familiar buzzing sound is filling your ears, and before you can react, the same vibrator form before is pressed against your clit on the highest setting. 

“Gyuuuuu…!” you whine out, long and desperate and incoherent as Beomgyu grabs at your cuffs, using them as leverage to make you slam back into him. His thrusts are brutal and the sound of skin against skin is enough rivalry to the buzzing of the toy as he begins to use the last of his energy to fuck you to your orgasm, watching as the chat buzzes with excitement from your sudden word.

What? What’d she say?? Was that his name? omg?!

“Do you think you deserve to come?” he sneers, his voice gruff as you shake your head, knowing damn well that you haven’t been perfectly compliant to him like he wanted you to be, especially now that you may have just slipped up and let out a personal fact about him.

“Exactly,” he continues, his thrusts toning down in speed, but not intensity— he pulls out to the tip with every thrust, only to slam back into you and have you jolt forward from the harshness of his pace; the vibrator that was once relentless on your clit is now hovering mere centimeters from you, taunting you as all stimulation becomes insignificant to what it was before.

“Maybe, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come,” he begins, watching the way you can only nod eagerly against the sheets, your hands struggling against your cuffs— he’s holding your hand at the sight, fingers interlocking as he watches you grip onto his hand with both of yours tightly.

“Will you be good for me? Are you gonna listen to whatever the fuck I ask you to do?” he says, his voice hardening at the end as he looks at you expectantly— a second passes before you’re nodding again. 

“My viewers have been so patient with you. The only reason you got all this was because they wanted it— if it were up to me, I would’ve dumped my load in you already and left.” 

That’s a lie— the biggest fucking lie Beomgyu has ever told, knowing damn well that he would’ve done all this and more to you any day, entirely unprovoked. But he knows his viewers love it, and so do you, because your cunt squeezes him so tightly he’s afraid he might just come early. 

“Aren’t you grateful they loved you so much? Hmm?” you’re barely registering his words anymore. But you’re nodding nonetheless, your thighs beginning to shake from the sheer pleasure of feeling Beomgyu rut into your cunt throughout all this. 

“Tell them thank you,” he says sweetly, not giving you enough time to speak before he’s back to fucking you wildly; his pace picking up, aiming for that specific spot that leaves you dumb and drooly as he places the vibrator back on your clit— any chances of sounding sane are thrown out the window as he begins tugging on your cuffs, bouncing you back against him as the wet sounds of his thrusts ring out through the room. 

“Did you hear me—?” he asks, landing a smack to your ass before he’s soothing the area, slowing down so he can smack you again, “I said say thank you. Do you think you’re above us, pretty?”

Your first attempt to speak is a garbled mess.

“Come on, I know you can do better than that. Or— do you just wanna be a cute little cumdump for me—? Ah, let me use you every time I stream… don’t need any fucking toys when I have my pretty doll for me— right—?” His own sentences are becoming more incoherent the longer he fucks you, addicted to the way your pussy practically sucks him in deeper in response. 

“Try again,” he growls, feeling his own orgasm approaching slowly, “show me you’re not a— shit, a fucking brat, and maybe I’ll let you… ugh, let you come.”

Beomgyu swore he got rid of his habit of rambling like this long ago. But, you seem to be able to bring it out of him, his calm and collected speeches crumbling like paper in his mind as he takes in the way both your arousals are smeared over skin and dripping down your thighs, forming a ring around Beomgyu’s cock as he feels his resolve beginning to crumble— he begins to fuck you carelessly, not able to think about anything else but reaching his high as he waits for your response.

“Mmh—! ugh… fuck…” your voice is increasing in volume, the shy person from before long gone as you begin to chase your orgasm, much too afraid to lose it as you try to form a single, coherent thought.

“Thank…. thank you…” you whine out, but it’s all too slurred and quiet and pathetic to Beomgyu as he growls out a sharp what? His hand pressing down on the small of your back as he glues your hands to your skin, forced to take the way he fucks you as you moan out uncontrollably.

“Thank you..! Thank you thank you, oh, fuck—!” holy shit, you’re full on crying right now, reduced to nothing but a mess of moans and tears as you ramble on repeatedly, only able to remember those limited words as you feel Beomgyu come inside you— warm and deep, stilling for just a moment before he’s back to fucking you, his own moans becoming much more needy at the feeling of overstimulation. 

“Thank you thank you thank youuuu, fuck, fuck fuck mmh—!”  you feel stupid. You’ve definitely been fucked stupid, moaning out those stupid thank you’s like a prayer as you feel yourself slumping completely, a boneless, gooey mess as you rely on Beomgyu to hold you up.

He continues to fuck into you slowly, even after you’ve gone entirely still; he thinks you might’ve passed out, but it’s only for a minute before he sees you shifting again, burying your head into the mattress as he hears the distant sound of you sniffling. 

Beomgyu feels concerned for a second, ready to check up on you and end the stream before you’re grabbing his hand again; then you’re clenching around him, mumbling his name so sweetly while you try to press yourself against him.

You’re straight up gone, he realizes, stilling for a moment and waiting for you to use your safe word— but you don’t, and he sees you peeking subtly at his monitor before you’re burying your face back into his sheets.

“You got a new tip.”

The words are barely audible to him, but he’s quick to glance at it upon your request; he almost chokes as he sees the five-hundred dollars that have been sent to him, his eyes reading over the request a few times before he’s looking back at you.

Could you try to make her squirt ?

“It’s five hundred dollars,” you mutter, and all Beomgyu can do is let out a bewildered laugh, leaning down to place a kiss on your shoulder before he’s whispering in your ear if you’re okay to continue— the small nod you give him is enough to have his cock hardening inside you. 

Fuck, he’s gonna give you the aftercare of the century after this. 

[vhagarlovebot]

gwen, i need ur thought on dilf/older!aemond !!

MEAN!DILF AEMOND — NSFW, MINORS DNI.

♡. ── pics credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: dilf!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

content warnings: 18+, explicit content, aemond is in his late 30s, reader is in her early 20s, dubcon, somnophilia, mean!dilf aemond, marking/biting, edging, possessive!aemond, dacryphilia, degradation, praising, aftercare.

note: sorry it took me so long! if there are any mistakes i apologize but english is not my first language. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!

aemond targaryen and you met after you answered his anonymous ad looking for a babysitter. you were struggling with college and paying rent, so it was something you really needed. and so aemond needed it too.

aemond emailed you an address for your first meeting and you almost fell off the chair when you googled the place; a very fancy restaurant in the upper side of town.

you dressed in your best clothes, a decent dress you knew would help you make a good impression, and made your way to the restaurant, so anxious you had to stop at the entrance and take a deep breath.

when the host led you to the table, you were met with the last person you were expecting. there, on a table for three, was sitting aemond targaryen—the ceo of one of the biggest corporations in westeros and member of one of the most renowned families—next to a silver haired girl clinging to his arm.

after you got over your initial shock and learned that he was actually really kind and easy going under that ‘dark’ facade he always showed to everyone—not that you really knew him, it was all based on the countless interviews on magazines—you were able to relax and answer all his questions.

you were also able to ask him anything and clear all doubt you had. you even talked to the little girl, vaella, who was no older than four years old.

your first weeks you didn’t see aemond. he told he was closing a very big deal and that you would need go stay at home to take care of his little girl. and you had no problem, everywhere was better than living with your very annoying roommate.

but once that job was finished. you started seeing him at home more often which only made you more nervous and uncomfortable. because every time you turned around, he was there leaning against the door watching you play with vaella, or simply looking at you from behind the newspaper while you feed vaella her breakfast.

the intensity in his gaze made your skin burn. every time you caught him checking you out, a shiver would roll down your neck as a warmth pooled in your lower belly at the thought of him finding you attractive. it made you feel good.

aemond made the first move one night after vaella fell asleep and found you next to her, asleep too.

aemond took you in his arms, wanting to leave you on the guest room and retreat to his own to rest, when he heard you mumble his name in your sleep. “what was that, kid?” he asked you, fingers caressing your cheek, aware you were dreaming. “oh fuck—aemond,” you moaned, and he couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto his face.

it didn’t matter to him that you were sleeping. after all it was of him you were dreaming of and he would not let that slide.

you thought you were having a very vivid dream, his hands on your body felt a little too realistic but you were enjoying it; you knew it was wrong and fucked up even in your subconscious but it feel too good to made yourself wake up. if you couldn’t make those fantasies come true, you will have him in your dreams.

aemond squeezed your breast, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and cupping your cunt. you moaned, eyes slowly fluttering open. it didn’t scare you seeing him so close, eyes so dark you couldn’t see his irises anymore. “was it a good dream?” he teased you, lips attaching to your left breast. it feel even better than your dream.

aemond wasn’t gentle that night.

but you like when he manhandles you and uses you for his own pleasure. if you’re a good girl and take everything he gives you, he lets you cum.

aemond likes to tease you. even more so when you are at one of the events he’s hosting at his house. you are always around because he likes to keep his daughter around. and he’s not going to lie, he likes seeing you all flustered when you caught him looking at you from across the room.

he would introduce you as his daughter’s babysitter, a hand on your lower back, thumb caressing your bare skin as he keeps a straight face as if he didn’t made you cum until your legs were trembling just a few minutes ago, hiding from everyone behind a bookshelf.

aemond would see you trying to hide the bite marks he left on your neck with a smirk on his face. he has to bite his lips to stop himself from chuckling when he sees people eyes darting to the place where the marks are more dark and visible, your face heating up at noticing it too.

he’s not an idiot, he sees how some of the men look at you, even asking him very inappropriate questions about you. aemond tries his best to hide his anger, clenching his jaw and excusing himself.

you end up bent over his desk on his studio after one particular men tried to flirt with you. “parading yourself like a slut. can’t even leave you alone for one minute.” he grunts, pulling down his pants.

when you’re watching a movie with vaella, aemond likes to have his hand on your thighs, squeezing and caressing just inches away from when you need him. you look at him, pleading, but he doesn’t even look in your direction, pretending to pay attention to the movie playing in the background.

and when he notices that you’re not able to keep still, parting your legs and bucking your hips up, trying to make him touch you, he slaps your thigh, nails digging onto the soft flesh making you whimper. “pathetic slut, you have no respect for my daughter.” he laughs at you, removing his hand.

aemond punishes you for being so greedy, edging you all night until you’re a crying mess and can’t think straight.

you sob, hot salty tears streaming down your face. “please, please!” you don’t even know what you are begging for. aemond feels bad for a second until he feels you tighten around his fingers, a dark laugh falling off his lips. “you like this, stop being a fucking baby and take it.”

and when he finally slides in, it’s too much. you’ve been at it for hours, and you’re too sensitive so you try to push him away but he pins your hips to the bed, frowning down at you and forcing you to take him to the hilt.

aemond has to put a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. “you need to keep it down, sweetheart. don’t want to wake vaella up, do we?”

aemond likes praising you, especially when you’ve been such a good girl for him, allowing him to do whatever he wanted with you.

“doing s’good for me, sweetheart.” he says, brushing a strand of hair out of your sweaty forehead and hips thrusting into you.

when he finally lets you cum, it’s devastating. it leaves you trembling, muscles going limp.

aemond always asks you where you want him to cum and your answer is always inside. he likes to hear you say it, he cums hard every time, painting your walls white.

after you both come down from your high, he does not hesitate to wrap you in his arms and kiss your temple, whispering soft words in your ear.

aemond cleans you up, gives you water, runs a bath for you and even gives you a massage. he lets you rest on his bed while he makes something to eat and checks on his daughter. he spoils you.

“you were such a good girl, it’s the least i can do.” he says, softly kissing your lips, after you try to get up and help him. “you need to rest, sweetheart.”

and the next morning when he sees you having trouble to walk straight or even sit, he needs to hide his smile behind his hand. seeing you that way only helps to feed his ego.

[candysims4]

SWEET TOOTH SET

Oh my gosh, I am so excited about this new set and finally releasing it! I seriously can't get enough of these pieces - they're just so cute! Every little detail is lovely, from the bow in the hair to the hearts on the nails.

AS IT’S TOO MUCH TEXT, I’LL LEAVE THE DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM PLUS THE CREATOR’S NOTES BELOW THE CUT.

ALL ITEMS ARE:

TEEN TO ELDER

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

MADE FOR FEMALE FRAME

DISALLOWED FOR RANDOM

360º GIF & THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

MY SITE (NO AD.FLY): BONBON HAIR | APPLE PIE NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) | BISCUITS EARRINGS | CHERRY TART DRESS (TWO VERSIONS) Free release on 17th October 2023

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTIONS

TERMS OF USE | SEND YOUR FEEDBACK | REPORT AN ISSUE

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library​, @wewantmods​, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO 💖

DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM:

BONBON HAIR

HAT GAME INCOMPATIBLE

6.476 POLYGONS

119 SWATCH COLORS - 24 plain colors from EA Color Palette - 95 plain colors from my Candy Color Palette

YOU WILL FIND IN LONG HAIR OR/AND STRAIGHT OR/AND UPDO

APPLE PIE NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) Same colors description for both versions.

1.320 POLYGONS

113 SWATCH COLORS - 55 plain colors - 58 color combinations

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/FINGERNAILS

BISCUITS EARRINGS

360 POLYGONS

10 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/EARRINGS

CHERRY TART DRESS (TWO VERSIONS) Same colors description for both versions.

5.446 POLYGONS

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN FULL BODY/SHORT DRESS

CREATOR’S NOTES:

Let's start with my favorite item of the set, Bonbon Hair. It's the cutest hair I've ever created, and I'm really proud of it. The bow is adorable, and I was finally able to make a great 3D model of it. I'm really happy with how the hair looks - it's exactly what I had in mind. I hope you love it too! One thing to note is that the bow on Bonbon Hair isn't removable and won't work with hats. Usually, I prefer hairstyles that can be worn with hats, but for this one, I needed more space for the bow's texture. I also drew the bow's shadow onto the hair's texture to give it more depth and a better overall look. I also made sure to keep the polycount low - around 6k polygons. I could have made it lower, but it didn't look as good in movement. So, I kept it at a higher polycount to maintain good movement without too much distortion.

I designed the dress to complement the hairstyle, adding a bow at the back for an extra touch of charm and romance. I used a new mesh from the latest kit that I couldn't wait to franken-meshing with it. My goal was to create a vintage silhouette and style, and while I'm not sure if it was successful, I'm very happy with the final result. At the end of the day, it looks cute, and that's all that really matters.

The nails are a kind of old wip that I finally decided to finish. It's one of the cutest designs I've ever come across, and I was determined to recreate it in The Sims. I love a stiletto design, and for me, one of the best nail art is this one; it matches the nail's format and is so cute. The nail includes two color options but only one spec option. However, I plan to create additional versions in the future, including a glossy and matte finish, possibly as part of a mini set that I'm working on that will have this and other versions of some of my recent clothing designs.

Next up, we have the Biscuits Earrings. These were originally a work in progress meant for a different set, but while I was styling the Sims, I realized how well they matched with the current Sweet Tooth Set. So, I quickly finished them up and included them as part of the set.

By now, it's all. Unfortunately, I've been working very slowly lately; thanks to this heat wave, I feel most of the day like I'm melting. It's scorching in here, guys. I don't understand how a person can say global warming is a lie; really, how?!

[theheartnexttophan]

Month-in-Rephiew: October 2024

So @danrifics mentioned (x) that October 2024 was one of the greatest months in Phandom history, and I was was thinking about how literally so much happened it was hard to keep up, so here’s a day by day breakdown of the month with all the stuff Dan and Phil did! This isn’t intended to be a proper archive, just a memory refresher (go look at @danandphilupdates or @terribleinfluence-tour to see all the posts archived). I might try to do this each month from now on, as I find it helpful to be able to look back on!

Phil tweet: phone wallpaper

Dan retweet: dropped beads, PJ mentioned Phil’s “all pleasure now”,

LGBTQ+ Public Figures survey + Dan retweet

People Interview Preview, 2 Phil Instastories: Seattle

YourEx Interview

Phil retweet: carrying tabinof in pocket, 5 Dan Instastories: 3 Football game, repost of Last Disco hat from Phil, tour promo graphic, 4 Phil Instastories: 2 Football game, repost of Dan from football game, Dan in Last Disco hat, People Interview, DanAndPhilBEATS: Spooky Week, TIT: Seattle (1st in America)

Joint Insta post (with People Magazine): Interview (+Dan comment), Dan Instastory: People Interview, Phil Instastory: People Interview, Fan pics at Target, TIT: Seattle

OUR BIG GAY PROM NIGHT- Dan and Phil play The Sims 4: Season 2 #16, 2 Dan Instastories: Phortland, International phlesbian day (also a tweet), TIT: Portland

2 Phil Instastories: DanAndPhilBEATS (also tweet), Lowave (also tweet), TIT: Vancouver

Fan pics from airport

DAPG Community post: DanAndPhilBEATS, TIT: Oakland

2 Dan Instastories: Pharamount, iPad (and tweet and DAPG community post)

Dan TikTok: Married Life, (also Instastory), 2 Phil Instastories: 2 DnP Cocktails, TIT: Phoenix

Phil retweet: one second of every post hiatus DAPG vid, Fan pics from San Diego Zoo

Joint Insta post: West coast photodump, 5 Phil Instastories: photodump, plane, sunset Phil pic, DDR, landscape passing while driving 3 Dan Instastories: photodump, Phil in cafe, game at arcade

POPPY PLAYTIME ANIMATION! Dan and Phil (+Phil Instastory about it), 2 Fan pics from in the street, TIT: San Diego,

3 Dan Instastories: elevator doors, theatre picture, Ranboo, Phil Instastory: repost from venue, TIT: Los Angeles

Phanniversary, Phanpocalypse, Phandom Gives Livestream, No but seriously imagine it

Phil tweet: Dan’s reflective trousers (+Dan reply), TIT: Salt Lake City

Gays Against Humanity (+Phil Instastory about it), Phan #1 on Ships list, TIT: Denver

1 Video shoutout, Phil retweet: DAPG anniversary art, Phil Instastory: newlywed game questions

Fan pics at restaurant (from previous night), 3 video shoutouts, TIT: Kansas City

3 Phil Instastories: Puppies, Bucees promo for Austin, repost of puppies art, TIT: Grand Prairie

15th anniversary of Pinof, Take me back to 2009 merch, Our Phanniversary Newlyweds Game, TIT: Austin

1 video shoutout

Dan and Phil in The Backrooms (+Dan Instastory), Phil Instastory: Gay halloween bedsheets, TIT: St. Louis,

Dan and Phil ADOPT A BABY, TIT: Detroit,

Phil reblog of merch inspired pumpkin, Don’t Yap Challenge (IMPOSSIBLE) A Quiet Place: The Game, TIT: Akron

Dan and Phil play Five Nights at Freddy’s: THE JOY OF CREATION, joint Insta post: 2009 merch, 2 Dan Instastories: merch, repost of opposing fringes gravestones, TIT: Indianapolis

1 Phil Instastory: editing video, Halloween Baking- RADIOACTIVE MUG CAKES, Joint Insta post: good omens costumes (also posted on tumblr and twitter), 2 Dan Instastories: good omens post, good omens pic at bar, 3 fan pics from bar

[pawl3ss]

I came here to be a hater and hate on the minecraft movie trailer.

Get ready because this is probably the longest and the most autistic post ive made so far

I wont talk about the weird cgi and how unprofessional it looks but about how inaccurate the trailer is because it pisses me off and I have to be a nerd about it <3

ALSO IM NOT SURE IF TUMBLR WILL LET ME POST ALL OF THIS IN ONE POST so if it doesnt ill reblog with the rest <:3

first of all, those are NOT minecraft mountains.

Yes such seeds exist and you can find smt like that super easily in the game but it does NOT look so blocky

It should be a bit more smooth like here ⬆️

Next, what the fuck happened to the flowers.

Alot of the plants, trees, etc look like a disrespectful rip off of minecraft

Talking about plants, the trees are a big wtf

On the first pic you can see the log is SO THIN. LIKE THINNER THAN A TOOTHPICK. In the second you can see it is thicker, but because the block that fell out is so Itty bitty, you have to make the tree thinner.

The tree is as wide as the players, and when the block falls out its bigger than whatever the fuck this is. Yes I understand they have to carry the blocks and they can't make it too big, but you know what's a good solution? - make the blocks bigger when they fall out, but make them shrink when they get close/get put into a chest or inventory. SO EASY

Also I know you can find pink sheep naturally in the game, but oh come on.

You want to show how sPeCiAl the characters are and that they're sOoOoOo special they found a pink sheep on their spawn but oh my God you could have just let it be a normal sheep.

We stay with animals, and WHAT HAPPENED TO THE POOR WOLF. THE SNATCHED WAIST???? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM ☹️

and why is the creeper so, fluffy. Creepers are NOT made out of fur they are made of what alot of minecraft players suspect rotten skin like zombies or a skin-alike material, but it is NOT fur.

Also, *wrong buzzer sound* llamas don’t just spawn naturally. Unless theres a wandering trader (or however theyre called in english) they aren’t able to spawn just like that. They also usually have the carpet on their back.

EDIT: TURNS OUT THEY DO SPAWN NATURALLY IN MOUNTAIN BIOMES. still the Llama being here looks like they just put her there to try and "be funny" ykwim?

I also wanted to also say, this one character I feel that they're gonna be the most stereotypical, annoying one out of the whole movie and my ears hurt just looking at them

I wanted to say that the portal shouldn't be blue but like. Only the nether portal is purple, it's unknown how other portals look so... yeah

But still wtf is this cube??? What's the fuck are you holding young man???

Also, talking about mobs, piglins dont look like that, they dont have red light in their eyes, they dont have those drum-things because THEY DONT EVEN EXIST IN MINECRAFT which i will get to latur. They aren’t able to build like that, they aren’t able to get wood for trapdoors and for the fences and iron for the chains. Also they do not even know how to craft, they probably domt even know what a crafting table is. And ghasts also aren’t able to be in the overworld. I understand that theyre invading the land ans taking over but still Like Cmon >:(

I also wanted to say that this is not how nether looks but like. It does a bit, like where the piglins usually spawn ykwim? so ill give them that, the nether looks alr

Anyway TALKING ABOUT THINGS THAT DONT EXIST IN MINECRAFT: whatever this is, it isnt craftable in minecraft, unless there are mods installed. But the „mods” excuse can be used for everything in this post. It was the first thing i saw that pissed me off so badly that i had to make this post because like JUST USE ALL THE STUFF THAT THE ORIGINAL FRANCHISE HAS TO OFFER! NORMAL BUCKETS WOULD PROBABLY WORK JUST FINE!

Last but not least, if you think those two are the same character ive got some bad news for you buddy.

At least dye his beard brown. At least get the colours right. Please.

I think i mentioned everything i wanted. Lets hope the movie will get fixed or will turn out to be at least a bit better.

Thank you for letting me get nerdy about it <3

[lightofraye]

The reason(s) I’m anti-Danneel

Hello all!

This is actually my first official anti-Danneel post as opposed to reblogging an anti post or responding to anons who somehow found me.

First, a note: some of what I'm posting are reposts from other now defunct/deactivated Tumblrs that I was able--thanks to the Wayback Machine and/or Tumblr preserving the reblogs with information--so whenever possible, I will credit the original authors. It's because of them that I was able to find out all the crap Danneel had done and the evidence.

If it's a "Jensen said this", don't ask me where precisely, because there are way too many cons, panels, interviews. Just trust that Jensen did say it, okay?

Now... to begin with the biggest crime to lay at Danneel's feet: Abuse.

So I'm going to preface this with a content warning/trigger warning. If you are bothered by description of abuse, even emotional abuse, I advise you to skip. I will not be held responsible for how upsetting this might get. You've been warned.

Now to begin! Here's the issues I've noticed (and others). Hat tip to @taraslittlecorner (now defunct/deactivated) for the original post that I was thankfully able to find on the Wayback Machine.

I'll add a cut here because it's going to get long!

Public Humiliation:

Jensen eating gummy bears. This post was made as a public stab at Jensen for the amount of gummy bears he was eating. It was a stab at not only his eating habits/weight, but it was also a stab at him being greedy or gluttonous.

Jensen on the carousel. Another stab at Jensen about his weight.

The whole AD house tour is full of stabs at Jensen. She takes a swipe at everything from him not wanting to change the children’s diapers, not cleaning the toilets, not cooking, and not being able to organize or clean behind himself. (There’s a lot of sketchy things in that video as well.) She even made fun of him for being proud of his side of the closet for being tidy.

Jensen didn't cry at the birth of his children. Yet another attempt at making an important, emotional moment in Jensen’s life about her, as well making Jensen seem as if he is emotionless and detached from his family and children, and she’s the one that’s so sensitive.

The FBBC interview. Now, that interviewer sucked ass too, let’s not kid ourselves, that was one of the worst interviews I’ve ever seen in my life. Elta continually trying to make Jensen look lazy, saying that he didn’t smell good, saying that she was pregnant knowing it made him uncomfortable. All of this was with one goal, to humiliate him.

The gaslighting hairdresser. You will never convince me Elta put this woman up to posting this photoshopped, off guard, horrible pic of Jensen and herself, as well as disclosing the location of his family in order to make it look as if she’s been there the whole time when really she’s not. Jensen is very self conscious about his appearance, and this showed him in a bad light, again to humiliate him and make him look like a slob. (That seems to be her MO.)

(These are just the ones we’re all familiar with, but if you guys send more receipts you want to add to this I’d be glad to add them to it as a receipt collection.)

2. Controlling: This is another all day topic. Seriously, we could talk all day about how one can be considered controlling in a relationship, and Elta is no different. The biggest and most public thing that we can see is her constant control over his Social Media.

Now, we know good and damn well that she’s also doing this to hold up to her facade of a “happily married couple”, but it’s also a way of controlling his interactions with other women, (originally he was never allowed to follow women on Social Media; something that has recently changed since The Boys and Big Sky has happened), and to keep track of who he’s talking to and what he’s doing.

Access to one’s cellphone, email address, and other social media is almost as good as attaching a GPS onto a person. If she access his cloud, she can access everything from text messages he’s sent to his most recent emails to his employers.

I have some proof but it will take time to document all of them.

**For those SPN buffs out there. You will also notice that Dean got a whole lot less action between the sheets and with female guest stars after his wedding to Elta, and that’s not a coincidence.**

Jealousy, or extreme jealousy in Elta’s case, can also be the mark of an abuser. The NEED to maintain that state of control, and if he get’s attached to another woman that is paying him better attention, he may try and break things off with her.

3. Isolation: If you’ve noticed Jensen hardly sees his family anymore. He used to speak of his family often, now it’s rare that he’s ever seen with them. They usually have to come to Dallas Con just to see him, and the only actual evidence we have of Elta being there with them all in years is a sketchy ass post on Instagram of Thanksgiving a few years back. Jensen did take his dad, brother, and brother-in law to the Nascar event he recently attended. Other than that, there has been little to no evidence of contact with his family at all as the years progressed, and it’s gotten worse as the years pass of that “marriage.”

He also seems to have shorted his circle of friends to people she gets along with. Marcus, Steve, etc. And even on “vacations” it’s surrounded by her little group of mooching family members and friends: New Orleans, she brought her brother and mother, as well as Steve Carlson and Marcus. Marcus even attended the trip to Cali when they went to the Golden Globes after party.

If you really take time and look, he’s rarely seen with anyone that ELTA doesn’t get along with, or are friends with. He doesn’t even hang out with Jared outside of Canada like he used too, and that should raise suspicious eyebrows alone.

4. Hypersensitivity:

We’ve seen this in the countless attacks Elta, as well as her friends, feel the need to do to SPN fans, or anyone that questions the legitimacy of anything she does or post. I don’t have all of these anymore on hand, but will add the links if I can find them. She’s called fans “fat whores”, anti joker face used to have the receipts, they went on for a while. You don’t have to dig very deep to find this stuff people.

She’s even had Clif write long ass post in order to make it looks as if she’s been so targeted when she just really brings all this shit on herself. She feels threatened because somewhere deep down, she knows she’s doing wrong. You know how the old saying goes, the guilty dog barks? Well, Elta barks a lot.

Even Jensen can get a little defensive when they attack her at cons and to his face. He knows that if he doesn’t defend her, or trys to stand up for himself there will be repercussions. “I don’t tell my wife what to do. I’m not stupid, or suicidal.”

5. Unexplained injury, or weight-loss: Since about 2018, Jensen has progressively lost weight. To the point that the FBBC instagram page even removed the photo I used in this example because people were commenting on Jensen’s weightloss. They try to explain it away in marathon training, but we all know that’s not the case. The constant attacks she’s made against his weight are starting to show.

Every time Jensen has to quarantine with her he starts to look like death warmed over, weight drop, sickly looking skin color, (which is also a sign of malnutrition), and that dead look we can’t get seem to forget. Then we get him back to work, and it’s almost an immediate improvement.

Then there is the chunk that’s missing out of his nose now because of a nose injury that kept being explained in different instances at the same event as to how he even got it. It first appeared a day after the FBBC family reunion event that took place in May of 2018 in a post made by Elta of Jensen playing with the kids, and people thought it was just a breathe right strip.

If you look closely, you can even see that his eyes looked to be blacked, as if he’d somehow broken his nose.Once he got ot an event for Elta’s Limbo Jewelry line launch in NYC, he kept changing the story as to how he got said injury. First he told fans that he’d hurt it by hitting a pool wall while playing with his kids. Then he said he’d dropped a keg on it. Well, if you’ve ever worked for a bar or been around kegs you know those things are heavy, and that story is a blatant lie.

CONSTANTLY SHIFTING STORIES OF HOW AN INJURY OCCURRED ARE ONE HELL OF A RED FLAG PEOPLE!!

If it were Elta with the injury, and she kept changing the story as to how she got it, there would have been questions asked; but since Jensen is a man it was never looked into.

Take all these for what you will guys! It’s only my observations and opinions! You may not agree, but I know you all can agree that if Jensen were female, this conversation would have happened a LONG time ago.

Men can be victims of domestic abuse/violence, and the evidence is there! I’m sure there is more, and if you send it to me via submission, even if you want to keep quiet and not put your handle on there I will add the evidence to this post.

THIS MAN DESERVES BETTER!!

[velvetkisscs]

Is It Casual Now ? - PSH SMAU

chapter 5: 2:22 am (0.5k)

──౨ৎ｡⋆ 𝓬ontains: cussing, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly) , teasing, more bickering (always)

likes, reblogs, comments, and feedbacks are appreciated. rude comments will be ignored, reported, and deleted.

. 𖦹˙— ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ ✩࿐࿔

1:58 am

2 mins had passed and you finally spot sunghoon making his way through the crowd. for a second, relief washed over you, but it’s quickly replaced by annoyance.

“about time you showed up,” you said, feeling a bit frustrated.

“yeah, yeah.” he responds, uninterested with your anger.

you point at ni-ki, who’s slumped on the couch, mumbling words. sunghoon sighs, walking over to his inebriated friend. he attempts to lift ni-ki on his own, but he finds himself struggling.

“talk about skill issue,” you tease, making him glare at you in response.

“wait here,” he says, heading towards his car.

“where the hell are you going?” you call after him.

. 𖦹˙— ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ ✩࿐࿔

2:02 am

a moment later, he returns, holding a pair of familiar shoes. “here. you left these in my car ages ago.”

you stare at the shoes, then back to sunghoon. “why do you still have these?”

“uhh… forgot to throw them out,” sunghoon shrugs nonchalantly.

you roll your eyes but take the shoes, quickly changing out of your heels.

together, you manage to house ni-ki to his feet, slowly making your way out the party. the cool night air is a stark contrast to the humidity of the party inside. the sound of your footsteps echoes softly in the quiet streets. you try to hold ni-ki as steady as you can, but you can only do so much with your height.

‘ni-ki what’s your lock code?” you ask as you approach his and sunghoon’s building.

ni-ki mumbles something incoherently, his head lolling back and forth.

“ni-ki, we need your code.” sunghoon tries, but ni-ki can only let out a bunch of gibberish, eyes half-closed.

“he’s hopeless,” you sigh. “can you let him crash at your place?”

“fine by me,” sunghoon agrees, “if he pukes, you’re cleaning it up.”

“whatever,” too tired to argue further. “i never said i’m going to stay over at your place.” you quietly mutter.

. 𖦹˙— ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ ✩࿐࿔

2:22 am

after what feels like eternity, you reach sunghoon’s apartment. you were able to get ni-ki inside and laid him down on the couch, his soft snores filling the room.

sunghoon glances towards your direction, his expression unreadable. “you want me to walk you home?”

“can’t get enough of me huh?” you said, trying to get a reaction out of him.

“you wish.” rolling his eyes. “just don’t want to deal with our friends giving me shit if something bad were to happen to you.”

“just admit it, you’re worried about me.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“since you offered, then sure. i guess?”

. 𖦹˙— ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ ✩࿐࿔

2:34 am

the walk to your apartment was quieter, but still peppered with your usual banter. the city at his hour is so alive, yet so serene.

by the time you reach the entrance to your building, sunghoon does not part ways with you. instead, he follows you to the front of your apartment door. 

“i’ll leave once i see you head inside” sunghoon says

“thanks for walking me,” you say softly, fatigue washing over you. “goodnight, sunghoon.”

“goodnight, yn.” he replies, watching until you’re safely inside before turning to leave. . 𖦹˙— ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ ✩࿐࿔ 2:49 am

<<< prev masterlist next >>>

a/n: saw the blurry pics and thought, yup that's ni-ki core. i was so into minecraft i nearly forgot to work on this chapter. idk what else to say tbh... we're almost done with the boring chapters tho! i think one or two more and the good good, the drama, the tea will finally happen! it's only taking a while because i'm trying to make sure you guys get the gist of sunghoon and yn's dynamic, along with everyone in their friend grp.

. 𖦹˙— ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘ ✩࿐࿔

taglist: open

📌: @sunoostripletriple @yoizhrs @leov3rse @heelee-01 @naviiy @ramenoil @mitmit01 @luvrseung @river-demon-slayer @wonwoos-wineparty @sumzysworld @sngleehee @jayhoonvroom @lovebuglissas @tanisha2060

[send a comment/ask! no empty blogs, must be 18+]

[sadaveniren]

Why none of this matters

Sada's Yearly Post Christmas BG round up I guess?

A study of 2015 (since we've lost a lot of resources since BG started)

Shit from 2015 with Evidence

1. She got a nose job while pregnant

Left: the “night” of the conception*. Right: her at the London 1D show in September, “pregnant”

*Louis didn't go home with Briana she instead spent the night with Calvin, Ashley and Oli (the two were dating) and there’s a pillow fight video of the four of them while Louis "slept upstairs" that @luckyagain found 🤗🤗

2. The Disappearing Christmas bump

Left: Briana on Christmas 2015 (8 months) Right: Lottie in July 2022.

3. The only bare bump pic we got of her… with her 2016 face

4. She didn't even use her own pictures to post her baby belly

Left: Picture of "her" pregnant belly with no mole. Right picture of her stomach post pregnancy with a mole (also, this is just me but while you may be able to convince me there is a belly button piercing with no jewelry on the pregnant belly, as someone who had a belly button piercing AND a pregnancy that's.... the right picture is not what that looked like post pregnancy)

Shit I can't find evidence for* but I saw with my own fucking eyes

1. The fucking changing timeline of her pregnancy in the early dats (10 weeks to 12 weeks pregnant after we bitched about it being too early)

2. Is it a girl? Is it a boy? The Clarks sure don’t know and also Briana did have a baby show- wait no she didn't have baby shower. No baby shower for Briana.

*probably because i didn't bother to reblog it at the time because 2015 was fucking wild and I honestly didn't think I'd need to - you know - archive EVERYTHING. And the few people who did have since deleted/were deleted by tumblr 🙃

Shit that isn't "evidence" but always bears repeating

It's not real

2. Dirty Dancing Tweet and one of the subplots of Dirty Dancing is a pregnancy thing.

3. The! Pregnancy! Announcement! Was! About! Larry!

4. Were they friends? Were they enemies? Who knows! Not us!

5. This was 2016 but GOD THIS IS SO IMPORTANT. Her post partum attire was WILDLY inconsistent with someone who just gave birth.

I will forever die at the thought of wearing a fucking mini skirt* so many days post partum holy shit.

*reminder the time period post her birth was convoluted as all hel probably to try and get us confused and mixed up in the future (no i don't think they intended bg to go on this long)

And ultimately... even if you can excuse all that, just remember, she literally can't be the exception for everything.

Thank you for your time please enjoy some of the stuff I wrote about last year:

Believe in the Douis break up rule

You're not crazy or dumb or weakfor being frustrated for this

Try not to let shit affect you!

Some more long posts I made last year

Remember! Time is BG's best friend because people end up forgetting a lot of shit that's happened!

[mollyjames]

I saw one of your firekeeper doodles and it reminded me of this one comic that I saw. It has champion gundyr kneeling down to read a message on the ground, and the punchline is this picture. I lost track of the original comic after making this my profile pic and unfortunately haven't been able to find it again

Excellent 👍

(If anyone knows the source I'll reblog with the link)

[narumi-gens]

Never Felt a Feeling Like This

Narumi Gen x f!Reader

summary: For Narumi, it’s love at first sight. For you, it’s boredom.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, meet-ugly, masturbation (m), hinted femdom, switch!narumi (like literally from one paragraph to the next sometimes), budding degradation kink, but also praise kink, spit kink, inappropriate workplace behavior and relationships, mentioned/implied power imbalance (but in name only), dubiously solicited dick pics, narumi is a simp and I'm embarrassed for him and you should be too, narumi’s imagination gets a real workout in this, no bs4s were harmed in the writing of this fic (takes place pre-bs5 release), do not break electronics without proper safety equipment, excessive emoji use (did you know emojis count as words in the word count??)

notes: the kn8!chaos couple's origin story is finally revealed! I'm just happy I was finally able to use a Beyoncé lyric in a title. she released Renaissance because she wanted the kn8!chaos couple to have music to fuck to.

words: 6.3k

part of the Agents of Chaos series

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not like, reblog, or comment

As the First Division’s Vice-Captain leads you throughout Ariake Maritime Base on a tour of the facilities, you find your interest hanging on by a thread. 

All Defense Force bases are essentially the same — you have your training grounds and rooms, administration offices, barracks, an Operation Room, and mission preparation spaces. So, you’re torn between yawning loudly and pulling out your phone to see if there’s anything else more worthy of your time, which there surely is. 

The only thing stopping you is that this is your first time meeting Vice-Captain Hasegawa and you have just enough awareness to recognize that doing either would probably lead to a poor reaction from the man. There will be plenty of opportunities to test his patience in the weeks, months, and — hopefully — years to come. 

With great effort, you stifle both urges and continue pretending to look like everything Hasegawa is telling you is not going in one ear and out the other. You wish he would just drop you off in the Operation Room so that you could figure out which station and console you wanted to take over. 

Your mind has begun to wander so much that you almost run into him when he comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the hallway. Although considering he’s still talking and is pointedly facing a pair of double doors, the stop might not have seemed as sudden if you had been paying attention. 

“—wanted to warn you,” he sighs and you realize that you’ve missed everything he’s said before. 

But you quickly catch sight of the plaque next to the door that reads, “Narumi Gen, First Division Captain,” and are easily able to piece together what it was that Hasegawa was warning you about.

“Ah, don’t worry, Hasegawa. I knew what I was getting into!” you grin up at him, completely missing the way his eyebrow raises at how casually you’ve addressed him without his proper title. “Captain Ogata made sure of that when he was trying to convince me to take the Head of Operations opening at the Third Division instead.”

Your assurances don’t seem to provide him with any sort of comfort. If anything, his severe expression only deepens.

“Yes, well. We’re a little ahead of schedule for your introductory meeting with Captain Narumi but he should be in,” he says, deciding to move past the unsurprising revelation that the Fourth Division Captain had tried to steer you clear of the chaos at the top of the First. 

He sharply raps his knuckles on one of the grand, wooden doors to announce your presence and opens them both without waiting for a reply. When you see what lies inside of the office, you understand why. 

Your gaze isn’t sure what it should settle on. The piles of dirty clothes? The overflowing garbage cans? The discarded and empty water bottles, cans of coffee, and energy drinks? The precariously stacked Yamazon boxes lining the walls? The reverently displayed and definitely overpriced action figures?

But your eyes are quickly drawn to the lump inside of the futon laid out in the middle of the office and right in front of the large TV, where a first-person shooter game is playing out on the screen. If you listen carefully, you can just make out the muttering coming from the lump in between the sounds of the game’s gunfire.

You tilt your head to the side as you take in the sight. Even if Ogata hadn’t pulled you aside at every opportunity to caution you away from the First Division, Narumi Gen’s reputation was practically legendary among the ranks of the Defense Force — and only partially for his skill in combating kaiju. 

It wasn’t a lie when you told Hasegawa that you knew what you were getting into when you accepted the position as the First Division’s new Head of Operations. However, the chaotic state of Narumi’s office still manages to take you slightly by surprise. 

Somehow, you remain unaware of the way the corners of your lips are slightly tugging upwards in a hint of a smile.

You’re pulled from your musings by the waves of anger that you feel radiating off of Hasegawa, who you had genuinely forgotten was standing next to you. His arms are crossed over his chest and this close to him, you can see the vein on his forehead pulsing. 

“I apologize for your first impression of Captain Narumi,” he grumbles and you can easily tell that this is a common occurrence for the man. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll take care of this.”

But before he can march toward the lump, you cut him off. 

“No need! I can handle this,” you tell him genially as you curiously open the Yamazon box on top of the mountain nearest you. You’re unimpressed by the six-pack of energy drinks inside. You note that it’s the same brand as the empty cans strewn across the office floor as you carelessly push the box off the stack, where it falls to the floor with a dull thud. 

You open the next box and pull out a boxed set of some movie series that you’ve never heard of and which has an obnoxious yellow sticker on the front that says, “LIMITED EDITION!” You pout with disinterest and toss it over your shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” Hasegawa asks just as you get ready to move on to the next Yamazon box and you abandon your search through Narumi’s things. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” you reply, your nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. 

Your admonishment and clear lack of boundaries has a sense of dread creeping up on Hasegawa — one that usually only accompanies a kaiju attack. He’s quick to tamp down any fears that his already-frequent headaches are about to increase, not wanting to tempt whatever higher power might be out there by putting those thoughts into the universe.

The only outward sign of his apprehension is his deepening frown. He responds with a wordless hum. 

Turning away from the Yamazon boxes, you look back to the lump to find that it hasn’t moved once despite the noise and your and Hasegawa’s presence. Glancing at the TV screen, you see that the game is still in progress. 

There’s an obvious solution to this problem. 

The lump is so focused on clearing its virtual mission that it’s easy for you to walk toward the TV, reach behind it, and yank the BS4 plug from the overfilled power strip. The sudden silence from the TV as the console unexpectedly shuts off is met with a screech from the lump, which finally moves to reveal Narumi Gen — captain of the famed First Division and Japan's (supposedly) Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he screams, tossing off the duvet and stumbling to his bare feet. “I was just about to clear the campaign! You just made me lose all of my progress! Who do you think you are?!”

With every shout, he moves closer, his finger pointed at you furiously and his bloodshot eyes practically bulging from his head.

You answer him by grabbing his BS4 from the floor, lifting it over your head, and slamming it back down where it shatters apart. His shriek this time is so loud and shrill that you truly worry for a moment that your ears may begin to bleed. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” he repeats frantically as he collapses to his knees and tries to carefully pick up the hardware now scattered on the floor of his office, his fingers trembling from the trauma of seeing his most precious possession in pieces. 

But he’s too slow for you. You step past him and kneel down beside the BS4’s exposed motherboard. And then, in one smooth motion, you pull a pair of needle-nosed pliers out of the pocket of your lab coat and drive the jaws straight down where it pierces the fragile, green fiberglass. 

You can only describe Narumi’s resulting wail as a widow’s wail for how devastated it sounds. 

When you stand up and look back down at him, you see the shell of a broken man. He’s hunched over on his knees near your feet. The shattered pieces of his BS4 are loosely clutched in his hands. And if you look closely, you can make out the slight shaking of his shoulders. 

“Who are you?” he rasps, his gaze glued to the remains of his beloved console. “How can you be so cruel?”

“I’m the First Division’s new Head of Operations, bitch,” you smirk down at him, your arms crossed over your chest in satisfaction. The revelation seems to catch his attention because his head shoots up to look at you in shock before anger begins to creep in. 

“You? You’re the new Head of Operations?” he seethes, abandoning his BS4’s carcass to slowly stand. His fists are clenched at his sides and the tick in his jaw is visibly noticeable. 

However, you’re already moving on. You close the distance between you so quickly that Narumi’s fury is momentarily forgotten as he instinctively takes a step back only for you to take one forward. 

His stupor grows worse when your hands come up to cup his jaw. Suddenly, all he can focus on is how warm your touch is and how surprisingly pretty you are, your soft features hiding the heartlessness that lurks underneath. 

The reminder shatters his daze and he stumbles backward and away from your caress. He tries to put as much distance between himself and you as he can, only to trip on his futon and wind up sprawled on his back on top of the haphazardly strewn duvet. 

Not wasting an opportunity to get close to him again and without a second’s hesitation, you follow him and plop yourself down to straddle his torso. A flush breaks out across his cheeks and quickly spreads to the tips of his ears that are peeking out through his messy hair. 

The pink grows a deeper red when you sit up, slightly lifting yourself off of him so that you can further lean over him until only a few inches are separating your face from his. The back of his head is already pressed to the futon, leaving him nowhere to go.

His face feels hot under your fingers as you grip his chin firmly enough that he can’t shake you off this time. Although that seems like something you don’t need to worry about as he appears frozen beneath you. You’re vaguely aware of how his own hands slowly and cautiously drop to rest on the tops of your thighs. 

Yet, where Narumi is clearly flustered by the compromising position that you’ve forced him into, the ability to grasp the grossly inappropriate and unprofessional nature of your interaction is beyond you. There’s a purpose to all of this, which makes it incredibly easy for you to ignore the feeling of his fingers nervously twitching through the fabric of your pants. 

With one hand holding his chin, the other comes up to rest the back of your fingers on his cheek and you can feel how doing so makes him somehow even more tense. The wildness in your eyes has something stirring deep inside of him, which is only made worse by how he’s already missing your weight on his stomach.

He suddenly finds himself fighting the overwhelming urge to slide his hands up to your waist and pull you back down to sit on him. It wouldn’t be that hard. You would probably make a small cry of surprise if he did. He can practically hear it ringing in his ears and it goes straight to his cock, which is quickly growing half-hard.

And then it wouldn’t take much more to move you a little further down until you’re placed right on top of the bulge in his sweatpants. He would use his hold on you to grind your ass down while he bucks his hips up. 

His fantasizing takes a different turn when you slowly begin to lean even closer to his face and his wide eyes drop down to your lips. They look so soft and plush. Your tongue peeks out for just a second before disappearing back into your mouth and he wants nothing more than to chase it with his own.

What would your tongue feel like sliding against his? What would it feel like on his fingers? On his cock? 

Your teeth lightly sink into your bottom lip and he’s genuinely surprised that he doesn’t cum on the spot. 

It’s only your grip on his chin that keeps him from lifting his head to close the gap altogether. Thankfully, you seem to be doing so on your own and his eyes flutter shut, his lips parting slightly in anticipation.

But then his left eye is opening back up against his will as your thumb pulls on the skin just under his eyelid while your index finger lifts the area just below his brow. His right eye opens in confusion, trying to understand what’s going on.

He takes in how your gaze is fixed on his left eye, your head tilting back and forth from side to side curiously, and it slowly sinks in that the slightly manic look that you’re wearing has nothing to do with the kiss he was expecting. All of your interest in him seems to be exclusively tied to his scarlet-colored eyes — the eyes crafted from the retina of Kaiju No. 1.

It feels like someone has doused him in cold water at the realization. 

He can feel his dick softening from the disappointment — but only partially. After all, you’re still straddling him and leaning in close enough that he can feel every one of your exhales on his face. 

“So, these are the Future Sight eyes…” you murmur to yourself, switching your attention over to his right eye and giving it the same inspection that the left received. You hum thoughtfully and Narumi scrambles to find something to say, trying to think of anything that has even the slightest chance of impressing you. 

Before he can start to brag about the kaiju with a 7.4 fortitude level that he neutralized with one shot last week, you’re removing your hands from his face entirely and sighing heavily, a pout forming on the lips that he had just been daydreaming about. You lean back and sit up, dropping your weight fully onto his stomach once again.

You absently rest your palms on his chest and he’s struck by the vivid mental image of you doing the exact same thing if you were to ride him. 

The fantasy comes closer to being real when your hands push down for leverage to readjust how you’re seated. Your attempt to find a more comfortable position has you sliding just a little further down his body. His breath catches in his throat when your knees end up on either side of his waist and your ass meets his lap — and the tent in his pants. 

His fingers instinctively grip your thighs tightly as he bites back the deep groan that’s desperately trying to escape his chest. 

He knows you can feel how hard he is. It’s not like it’s something easy to ignore when you’re sitting right on top of it. Yet the only reaction you have is a slight twitch at the corner of your lips that’s so faint anyone else except for him, the captain of the Defense Force’s strongest division, would have missed it. 

And he also notices that it twitched upward. 

For a brief second, he contemplates using his eyes on you. Activating them would allow him to visualize your brain’s signals, indicating your movements before you made them. Maybe then he would have a better idea of what you’re planning to do. It’s probably against some stupid regulation to use the weapons designed to combat kaiju on another member of the Defense Force, but you’re a much more formidable foe.

However, he then feels you shifting slightly as you get ready to move so that his hard cock is no longer poking your ass and he panics. 

His hands dart up to grab your hips and keep you right where you are. Although you don’t cry out in the way that his ears are yearning to hear, your eyes widen just a fraction, betraying your surprise at his action. 

Knowing that his grip is firm enough to keep you from shaking it off, you instead look curiously over your shoulder and down, your back arching as you check if you can see the hardness directly underneath you. It’s the first clear acknowledgment you make of his arousal. 

Anyone else, everyone else, would be frantically trying to explain away the situation — as if there’s a way to explain away an erection that your coworker is sitting on. But Narumi isn’t anyone else and he finds his mind wandering yet again.

All he can focus on is how your arched back pushes your chest forward. Despite the shapeless lab coat that you’re wearing and how it covers the majority of your body, he can still make out the curves of your tits and how they’re perfectly framed by your upper arms on either side.

What would you look like in just your lab coat?

His thumbs twitch where they’re firmly pressed to your hips with the urge to slip them under the hem of your shirt and feel the warmth of your bare skin directly. If he did, he could easily slide them, and your shirt, up. Once he had it high enough, he could then curl one finger into the front of your bra and pull it down until your tits were spilling from its cups. 

And then all he would have to do is lean up and he could capture a nipple between his wet lips. He could then wind his arms around you beneath your lab coat to splay one hand across the arch in your back, pressing you further into his mouth. By this point, your hands would have moved from his chest to his shoulders where they would be fisting the fabric of his shirt.

He can hear your phantom cries of pleasure in his ears again as his dick starts to ache. 

The bubble bursts when you face forward, your back now hunched over rather than arched. You look deeply unimpressed. Narumi is suddenly and viscerally aware of the thin stream of drool that’s slowly trailing from the corner of his lip and down his jaw where it then meets his neck. 

You notice it as well and lift a hand up to casually wipe his spit away with the pad of your thumb. His mouth opens on its own, instinctively wanting you to slip the spit-slicked digit inside. 

Somehow, the action has you looking even further unimpressed. Rather than sticking it past his parted lips, you wipe your finger clean on the front of his shirt. 

When you meet his gaze, the disinterest that he can see in your eyes and in your expression is crippling. Every fantasy that has been playing out in his head over the past few minutes shatters and comes crashing down around him. 

“Hm, I didn’t think the wielder of the oldest numbered weapon would be so boring,” you finally say with a frown.

His open mouth closes before opening again, only to close and then repeat the cycle as he finds himself unable to respond. His reaction doesn’t help his case.

“...b-boring…?” he repeats, seemingly incapable of understanding the meaning of the word. 

You slap away his hands from your hips and he’s so dazed that he lets you. The insult slowly starts to sink in and his growing indignation soon eclipses every last ounce of arousal.

“Boring?” he angrily cries out and you simply roll your eyes as you stand up. This time when you move off of him, he’s too outraged to miss your weight and warmth. 

“Yes. You bore me,” you tell him pointedly, your hands on your hips as you look down at him where he lays on his back between your feet. He gets the sense that this is exactly how you would be looking at a worm that you saw on the sidewalk before trampling it.

“W-well, if I’m so boring why’d you end up with the First anyway?” he retorts with a glare as he finally sits up. “You’re here because you wanted to be in the presence of Japan’s strongest!”

Your features wrinkle in distaste at the sentiment. 

“You wish,” you scoff as you step off of his futon and take a moment to examine your nails. “The First Division’s base is on the bay and the Third’s by a river. The ocean is way nicer. Simple as that.”

He can only gape up at you, speechless once more. 

You made the biggest decision of your career based on the base’s proximity to the ocean rather than the strength and prestige of the division. A life-changing decision, and you made it on something as superficial as preferring the ocean to a river.

There was no rational thinking involved. There were no thoughtful considerations made. Other than consulting Google Maps, there was no careful research done. 

A decision that you would have to live with for years and you made it based on something as trivial as a body of water.

Simple as that.

Narumi’s heart starts to race and his face grows warm. His palms suddenly feel sweaty and he’s hyper-aware of an unfamiliar fluttering in his stomach. A wide grin slowly stretches across his face.

Before you can walk away, he grabs your ankle.

“Wait! What’s your name?” he asks eagerly. You just smirk down at him and shake off his hand with a kick of your leg before walking away and out of his office without a second glance back at him. 

As he watches you leave, he wonders if the irises of his eyes — which usually morph into crosses when being used as the weapon they are — have now taken the shape of hearts.

He’s ready to collapse back into his futon with an infatuated sigh. He still has the tent in his sweatpants to deal with after all and if anything, it’s only gotten harder. 

But before he can, he catches sight of Hasegawa, who’s standing stoically by the doors of his office. He wonders if the man has been there the whole time and if so, why he didn’t put a stop to the chaos that just played out before him as he’s normally quick to do.

He vaguely notes that his Vice-Captain looks like he does whenever they’re en route to a kaiju attack and he’s reviewing the information available to assess the threat as best he can before engaging. Determination then crosses his severe features, as if he’s steeling himself for some upcoming battle.

The man appears about to take his leave, but Narumi recognizes that he can’t let his only other source on your identity just walk away.

“Hasegawa! Hey, Hasegawa!” Narumi cries out as he sits up on his knees. 

“Yes?” he replies stiffly, steeling himself for whatever is coming.

“Is she single?” He hungrily points in the direction you just went, like there’s any doubt about who the “she” in question is. 

Hasegawa’s entire demeanor abruptly turns icy. His arms slowly cross over his chest — usually a sign that a physical assault is imminent.  

“I’ll remind you, Captain, that the Defense Force highly discourages fraternization between enlisted personnel,” he says. Despite the lack of violence that accompanies the warning, it’s the most threatening that Hasegawa has ever sounded when reprimanding Narumi. 

But all Narumi can think about is how hard he still is and the memory of both your disinterest and your body on top of his as you straddled him. 

“Discourages is not forbids,” he smirks with all of the smugness of someone who believes that he’s found the greatest loophole in the history of mankind. 

Hasegawa’s scarred features contort into a grimace at Narumi’s easy disregard for the admonishment that he just received. Deciding that the best course of action would be to conserve his energy for the fight that he can see on the horizon, he drops his arms to his sides and walks away from his captain. 

“Wait! Tell me her name!” Narumi shouts as he desperately begins to crawl after him. 

Hasegawa suppresses the urge to slap a palm to his forehead in exasperation. He looks over his shoulder at the pathetic sight of the man known across the country as Japan’s strongest on his hands and knees, begging for just a crumb of information. 

“If you regularly checked your email as is your responsibility as First Division Captain, you wouldn’t need to ask,” he scolds him and with Narumi sufficiently distracted, Hasegawa is finally able to escape, closing the doors to the office with a loud slam!

Meanwhile, Narumi scrambles back to his futon to dig through it for his phone. When he finally finds it, it slips out of his grasp due to how sweaty his palms are. It takes a few tries but with fingers that are trembling with excitement, he’s able to unlock his phone and pull up his email.

He frowns in annoyance at the sheer volume of unread messages. As he starts to scroll through them, his eyes hurriedly skimming through the subject lines of each one, he soon realizes that this is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Doing a quick search for “Head of Operations” pulls up an unopened thread titled, “[URGENT] Start Date: Head of Operations, First Division.” He finds what he’s looking for when he opens it and sees that the latest email is from you, your name appearing in the “from” line.

He slowly says your name aloud, testing it out. He likes the way it tastes on his tongue.

He wonders if your pussy will taste even better when he gets you to sit on his face. 

As he skims the email thread for any further information he can glean, he notices that your responses to the information on your promotion and new assignment are largely in emojis. You seem to have a particular fondness for the red 100 emoji. 

With a contented sigh, he collapses back into his futon. His phone is clutched tightly to his chest and an adoring smile is painted across his lips. 

Rolling over onto his stomach, he rests his chin on a curled fist and returns to his email. Now that he has your name, he happily kicks his feet back and forth in the air and does another search through his inbox for it. He strikes gold when he finds your personnel file attached to a months-old, unopened email. 

But he doesn’t get far in reading through it because at the top of the file, just beneath your name, is your phone number. As soon as he sees it, he saves it in his contacts under: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦.

His fingers fly across the screen as he then drafts a new message to you and quickly hits send.

From: Narumi Gen Hey! Go out with me 🙏

He watches the message thread with unblinking eyes, eagerly waiting for the three little dots that indicate that you’re typing to appear at the bottom. When they finally do, the anticipation of what you’ll say is enough to have him salivating all over again.

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 ????

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Who dis

He frowns slightly. He’s your new captain. Shouldn’t you already have his number saved in your phone? Rather than letting it ruin his giddiness, he seizes the opportunity that he missed earlier to brag. 

From: Narumi Gen JAPAN’S STRONGEST 💪

He smugly waits for your reply. It takes longer this time for the three dots to appear and he’s positive that it’s because you’re too in awe to respond right away. 

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Oh.

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 😒

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Captain boring 🥱

Each reply is like an arrow to his heart. The yawning emoji in particular feels like you’ve taken a knife to his gut with a pretty smile on your lips. Desperation quickly takes hold.

From: Narumi Gen Plz go out with me 

From: Narumi Gen Pretty plz? 🙏

From: Narumi Gen Ur so hot. Plz go out with me 🙇‍♂️

From: Narumi Gen I’ll do literally anything to go out with u 😫

His responses are sent in a flurry one right after another. If he had the ability to feel shame, he would be embarrassed by how increasingly pathetic he sounds with each sent message.

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Nope 🙅‍♀️

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 This pussy is closed to losers

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 😝

It’s a good thing that he’s already laying down because the one-two punch of being called a loser while also being told that your pussy is off-limits would have had him keeling over. 

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Enjoy taking care of your little problem on your own 🍆✊💦

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Let me know how it goes 😏

He suddenly feels like you’ve breathed new life into him. Does this mean that you’re imagining him jerking off? 

The thought of you thinking of him with his hand pumping his cock has his head spinning. He rolls over onto his back and drops the hand holding his phone by his side as he stares up at the ceiling of his office in a daze. 

Acting almost on its own, his free hand slides down his stomach to slip under the waist of his sweatpants and then the band of his boxer briefs. He can’t help the hiss that escapes him when he wraps his hand around his cock. It’s easy to pretend that it’s your hand that’s pulling it out of his pants instead of his. 

Would you tell him how boring he is even as your hand slowly begins to move up and down his length? Would you be acting like this is a waste of your time? Maybe you’d be jerking him off with one hand and scrolling through your phone with the other. 

His eyes close to aid the fantasy. 

He can hear your voice in his ears, every word dripping with indifference as you tell him to hurry up and cum already so that you can go do something that actually interests you. You would barely even look at him, only glancing at him every so often to check how close he is to finishing. 

When he spits into his hand to help the glide of his palm, he imagines that it’s your hand and remembers how you didn’t shy away from his saliva when you wiped it off of his chin earlier. His fist speeds up its pace as he imagines what it would have looked like if you had popped your thumb into his mouth for him to suck it clean rather than wiping it off on his shirt. 

Or better yet, if you slipped it into your mouth, only removing it once your thumb was free of his spit. 

What would it look like if you spit directly into his mouth? He’s positive that you would purse your lips right over his open and waiting mouth and let your spit delicately drip straight down into it. You wouldn’t let him swallow until you told him that he was allowed to. And then you would reward him with a condescending pat on his cheek and a chaste kiss to his shining lips.

And what if he spits into your mouth? He would have you on your knees for him, lips parted wide open, and tongue stuck out as you waited patiently to taste his cock. He would grab your chin with fingers as firm as yours were on his earlier and just when you began to rub your thighs together, he would spit into your open mouth before making you swallow. 

Would you whine if he told you that you’re a good girl?

He definitely would if you called him a good boy. 

He would whine right into your pussy if you were to tell him how good he was being with his face buried between your thighs, your legs tossed over his shoulders. The words would be broken up between breathless moans as he lapped at your clit, your fingers pulling on his hair to tug his face closer. And he would then start pumping two of his fingers in and out of your pussy, curling them just right, all so that he could hear you say the words again.  

After seeing how little he impresses you, he would give anything for even a scrap of your praise. But he also wants to make you just as desperate for his. 

He wants you sprawled across the top of his messy desk.

He wants you to make it even messier when you cum on his cock as he pounds into you, his balls hitting your ass with each thrust and your ankles dangling by his ears. He’d have your arousal dripping from your pussy and down the crack of your ass to pool on the wooden surface of his fancy desk. 

He’d then slide two of his fingers through the mess before shoving them into your mouth, wordlessly demanding you suck them clean. 

And you would, wouldn’t you?

Because for all of your standoffishness and your seemingly aloof nature, when it comes down to it, you would want to be good for him. 

You would keep his fingers in your mouth until you were gagging on them when he shoved them in deep enough to reach the back of your throat. And even then, you would keep your lips closed around them until he decides to remove them. 

And when he pumps you full of his cum, you would thank him with hazy eyes and an adoring smile. It would mirror the one on his lips when he drops to his knees and pushes open your thighs to watch his cum slowly drip in thick, white gobs out of your sopping pussy to join the growing pool underneath your ass. 

Each mental image that rapidly plays out on the backs of his eyelids pushes him closer and closer to cumming. He can feel the orgasm building in his spine and in his balls, only for his eyes to spring wide open when he remembers your request to keep him updated. 

His phone is still in his sweaty hand, his fingers clutched around it so tightly that if he wasn’t so used to holding his BS4 controller for long periods of time, then they would be aching. He absently sends a silent thank you to whoever invented Face ID because it means he doesn’t have to fumble with a passcode to unlock his phone and pull up the camera. 

As much as it pains him to do so, he pulls his free hand from his weeping cock to yank his shirt up his torso and shove the hem between his teeth. He moans around the fabric when his hand returns back to his cock, giving it a squeeze as he looks down at it through the screen of his phone, trying to angle the camera just right. 

His hand is itching to pick back up its frantic pace up and down his shaft. But he keeps it still just long enough to take a perfectly-framed picture of his hand wrapped around the base of his dick and pre-cum leaking over his fingers. 

He hurriedly hits send and drops his hand holding his phone back to his side. 

However, his hand has only just started moving again when his phone vibrates in the death grip that he has on it. A pathetic, little whine emerges from the back of his throat when he lifts it up and looks at the screen to find that you’ve already replied. 

His toes curl and his hips buck up off the futon as he eagerly opens your message.

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO

That’s all it takes for him to cum with a groan of your name that’s muffled by the shirt hem still shoved in his mouth. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut as his hips give a few jerks, imagining that he’s spilling his cum onto your face instead of into his still-moving hand. 

When he’s finally capable of opening his eyes, he opens the camera on his phone again. With fingers that are tingling from his orgasm, he takes a second picture — this time of his cum-coated fingers and the streaks of white painted across his stomach.

After hitting send, he continues to look at the screen and preens when the three dots almost immediately appear at the bottom. 

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

A wistful sigh leaves him as spits his shirt out of his mouth and clutches his phone close to his chest, which is still rising and falling rapidly as he pants for air.

“So, this is what love is like,” he muses aloud, a dreamy smile stretched across his lips and absolutely certain that his racing heart has nothing to do with jerking off or the sticky mess coating his hand and stomach.