#just curating the asks i have so far

[erigold13261]

HC that in the end of the Miguel chase, the arachnikids get cornered and are about to lose... until Gayatri starts singing. (Disney Musical Style) The entirety of the squad sing together... and later Miguel gets Showstoppered

Was actually thinking about how Showstoppers would work in the Eriverse and came to the conclusion that every single person who gets powers/boosts from music would have their own unique showstopper that fuses with others.

The Arachnikids would have something like what Pearl in Splatoon had, a big microphone or something that sends out a sonic blast. Ham and Pav make the mic, Peni and Margo enhance it, Hobie and Gwen allow for the sonic blast, and Miles is the one to actually talk/sing through it while Gayatri either helps or puts her own magic into the mic so that Miles' words are stronger.

Basically the more badass way to talk someone out of being evil and onto the good side!

At least this was a thought that was going around a bit, I'm not that creative when it comes to things like showstoppers. I would say that it also has to be powers based or boosted in music. So if it's just a psychic fighting someone, they aren't doing a showstopper unless there is music involved (they can still do a finishing move, but it wouldn't be a showstopper).

[felassan]

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[dogearedheart]

hello alex i am with mila on this one i always want moodboards and specifically yours because they are insanely good <3

hello ola! I hope you are doing good! thank you so much, I am so glad you like them! I am definitely going to do more of them!

[sexbot300]

telling them they have a small dick!

pairing: toji x reader, gojo x reader (separate)

⤷ 18+, MDNI

tw: man-handling, p in v, unprotected sex, power play, cunnilingus, falsetto, huge dick (come on now), mentions of creampie, orgasms, degrading/dirty talk, slight size kink if you squint, text format for gojoe.

a/n: this was so funny to write i cant stop laughing. this was longer than i expected, i will be making a part two with choso, geto, and nanami if asked for. originally it was meant to include them but this is a bit tew long. I actually like this more than anything i’ve ever written before :’) comments r more than welcome thank uuuuu. luv u all xoxo (felt things while writing this, it’s funny that I think it’s my best work)

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Toji ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Reading your diary

Toji Fushiguro pissed you off. There were no ifs and buts or any way around it. As much as you adored being friends with Megumi and spending time near the stoic guy, coming by his house felt entirely dreadful. Mutual friends frequently visited his abode, leaving and visiting often without a sliver of complaint leaving their diction. ‘Maybe I was truly the problem.’ A thought had snuck up in the crevices of your brain until the mental image of why you didn’t come over as often decided to grace you with his presence. A shiver traveled up north of your spine, straightening yourself out mentally and physically. ‘Nah. That doesn’t sound right. I am NOT the problem.’ 

Toji was everything Megumi was not; cocky, arrogant, and trying to start anything with anyone if they remotely looked in his direction the wrong way. Was he hot? Of course. Would you ever admit it to the bastard? Of course, you wouldn’t. This is why what unfolds before you felt as if some cruel divine punishment, curated by the highest demon in the belly that cradled hell, deciding today would be the day to toy with you.

Closing your phone with a little, ‘Ding!’ Megumi had sent a text earlier entailing that something of your belonging had been left behind. Strangely enough, even he didn’t know what it was, which left a question of perplexity. All he knew was that his dad found it and to alert you about it. 

A sigh that had built up in the depths of your chest left, as you stood behind the mahogany-colored door. Praying that Megumi would just give the item so a beeline can be made as far as legs can sprint. Bringing a hand to the door, tapping with a fist, “Megumi? It’s me.”

With a shuffling heard from inside the house, the sound of the door unlocked and a slow swing revealed no one behind it. Stepping inside carefully and scooping out the area, an eyebrow raised as the familiar setting had no one in eyesight. Closing and locking the door behind, your voice even more confused, “Megumi? Hello? I thought you’d be here.” 

In plain eye view, coming around a corner stood the looming presence of a man that was hard to ignore. Leaning up against the counter behind, a protein shake in hand as his body seems depleted from a workout session. Glistening in sweat, he stood there devastatingly handsome. A simple white tank top clung onto his pectorals, highlighting the ridges of his stone-hard abs while the pump of his presumed workout caused his already massive biceps to look the size of planets. His gray sweats hung low off his slim core. He eyed you up and down as if inspecting every single thing about you.

“Oh yeah. My son's little friend was expecting you here.” He spoke in a casual tone, eyes met yours for a split second before eyeing you down in a carnal way.

Standing in place, mentally making note of killing Megumi for not being the one to give you what was missing from his home. Only leaving you to deal with his father.

He gripped something behind him his fingers grazing what seemed to be a bit lightweight. A light thud of a journal hit the island counter that stood between the pair. Eyes glancing down on what was thrown carelessly, the journal looked all too familiar.

My diary– fuck. All forms of color had drained from the hue of your face, replaced with a crimson flush. Frantically blinking up at the journal, your thoughts blared. ‘There’s no way he could’ve read it right?’ Almost sprinting at the piece of media, fingertips yanked it off the island forcibly gluing it to your chest almost to shield it from eyes it doesn’t belong to. 

Eyes darting back and forth frantically searching for relief in such a predicament, in a measly voice, “T-Thank you Mr. Fushiguro, it was very kind of you to give it back. I-I’ll be leaving now.”

He had only watched amused, but it wasn’t stated within his facial expression. If anything his demeanor was calm– his body leaned back at the counter behind him, legs crossed over one another while he wore what seemed to be a completely uninterested face.

“Smart girl. Probably read a lot, huh?” 

Clutching the diary tighter to your chest, almost impossibly close, furrowed eyebrows and a snap of a neck towards his direction. A low, barely audible, “H-huh?” 

“My favorite passage is where the narrator states that, ‘Toji is probably compensating his small dick for huge muscles.’” He chuckled deeply, taking a swing of his protein shake before setting it to the side.

Frozen in place, eyes widened, simply just going quiet. I mean– what could be said? For a moment so intense, all that ran through your mind was complete blankness.

“Kinda find it endearing how the narrator only uses vibrators on her clit because the idea of penetration ‘arouses’ yet ‘scares’ her.”

“Mr. Fushiguro did you r-rea-“ stated in an incredibly shaky voice. Embarrassed, wishing that the ground would do you good bidding and swallow you whole with no hesitation. He still looked calm, ridiculing every aspect of you, his eyes had darkened a bit due to pupil dilation.

Everything felt tense, hot, incredibly warm, a moment of heat transpiring between the two of you as eyes met one another. Except both eyes said a different story. His; was full of something that could only be described that an animal gets knowing that they had successfully captured their prey right where they were needed. Yours; full of complete self-pity, begging to be freed under the gaze of something that will eat you alive and leave no bones.

“Do you think that Toji's character might appreciate the narrator calling him ‘hot but probably hotter with his mouth shut?’” His large arms bulged, and crossed over his chest, enjoying every minute that left you squirming under his condescending gaze. You looked like something had caught your throat and any form of attitude seemed to exist on the lines written in the diary. 

Tilting his head, on cue his hair moved as well, his expression seeming bleak. “Aw, wish I could meet this narrator, express to her how far off she is from the truth. Seems the type to talk a lot but get quiet when confronted.”

With a croak of your throat you managed to speak in a weak voice, “Mr. Fushiguro I am so sor-”

A silky voice met your ears, “Megumi taught me a bit about books. You know what’s funny about narrators sometimes?”

“W-what?” Your voice croaked.

“They’re unreliable.”

“Want to know something else funny?”

Body shifting off the ledge of the counter his bulky body slowly walked, emerald eyes glancing down while you stared up with the most innocent expression. ‘Cute,’ he thought. Staring down, a waft of his natural musky scent hit your nasal passages. He towered right in front of you. His long finger gripped a loose strand of your hair, twirling it mockingly.

He juxtaposed the flustered expression drawn on your face, a grin that stretched from ear to ear, a sly expression painting a look of hunger. “Yeah,” his tongue swiped at his bottom lip, voice dropping a few octaves, “it’s tiny even.”

-

On the checklist of things you hated about Toji, you mentally jotted down that he was a liar. He was a complete liar. 

Knees blown out, nose buried deep into his neatly trimmed pubic hair, lips trying to adhere to a girth that wasn’t friendly to take down, saliva coating your chin and seeping through the cracks of the side of your lips, and mascara smeared down the sides of your cheek. 

Toji was anything but tiny. A huge hand gripped the back of your skull, yanking at the follicles of your hair bouncing your head back and forth on his dick. He had to be 8 inches at least.

Gagging and whimpers filled the air, as you pathetically took down all the length he forced down. Your eyes beaming with tears, while he looked down at yours mockingly. Eyebrows slightly furrowed at the feeling of your tight throat clinging onto his cock like a vice. He smirked staring you down as you struggle to take him in, light pants escaped from his throat as spit slowly exited his mouth, meeting the exposed part of his dick and a part of your face.

“Slow down sweetheart, shit,” a condescending laugh, “I’m not going anywhere.” He hissed in a bit feeling your tongue desperately lap up and down his cock as you took the initiative to get completely lost in the feeling. 

It was all too lewd– he had stopped guiding you by bobbing your head, but kept a firm hold; all you did was suck him as if your life depended on it. His hefty cock felt divine to the tastebuds, weighing heavy down your throat and around your tongue. Frantically allowing your tongue to brush over the large veins running throughout his shaft, your hands jerking off what you could, letting the room fill up with the wet squelches. Moaning onto his cock the vibrations cued a grunt from Toji, sucking his massive tip with a ‘pop!’ He pulled you away, noticing the whine in your face when separated from his dick. He laid it on your face, grin sprawled out. 

“You suck dick good for a girl who only gets off to filthy fantasies about a man who she hates.” 

Panting, studying him while feeling incredibly small under his stare, catching your breath. So perfect, you looked so perfect to him.

“Fuck- I could just cum looking at your face like this,” gripping your hair earning a mewl from your throat, he held onto his dick tapping the tip of your tongue repeatedly, he grinned wider noticing how you desperately leaned into every tap. “Heh, want more huh? Coulda came from your throat, rather fuck it in your little pussy instead. I could tell you were a cock-deprived whore from the start.”

All you could do was blink up at him, gulping at everything he was saying, a new wave of arousal crashing down in your panties. Eyebrows furrowed, keeping steady eye contact with him, he noticed your fucked out expression. 

“Aw? No back-talk? Seem to have a lot to run your mouth about in that little diary, girl. Do you even remember your name? Already trained you well without stretching you out? Or does it make you feel ashamed to be this wet in the house of a man you hate so much? Do you have no shame?”

“I-I’m,” you cleared your hoarse voice swallowing any bit of saliva that didn’t engulf his cock, “not wet.”

He blankly stared down at your face before a loud chuckle eroded from his body, shaking him slightly, “Darling, you’re practically dripping on my kitchen floors. You think I can’t see you clenching your thighs f’me?”

“I-it’s not for y-you, Mr. Fushiguro-“

“Cut the shit, it’s Toji. Stand up.”

Pushing your knees off the position they were in for the longest time, you whined and stumbled while Toji watched amused. Standing on your feet, wobbling, he did the honors of throwing you over his shoulder eliciting a loud gasp as your torso made contact and leaned into his broad shoulders. His fingers lightly grazed your wet folds that leaked through your leggings, causing a slight gasp.

He only chuckled again, walking to his master bedroom. “Not wet, my ass.”

-

You’re not sure what round this was, but being thrown like a rag-doll by a man who easily overpowered every aspect of you was not how you expected this visit to go. He did the honors of prepping you for hours long– edging you and making sure you were on the brink of insanity so taking his cock in would feel much more manageable. At first, you winced taking him in, but the pain subsided once the overwhelming bliss of pleasure overtook all feelings of discomfort.

Toji started by fucking his tip in, rocking back and forth to let you become accustomed slightly. He quickly learned that you were nothing more than a cock-deprived whore.

“T-toji, y-you’re, ah! Breakin’ me!”

“Good.” His face had a wild expression, grinning ear to ear, his long onyx hair clinging to parts of his forehead from sweat while the rest dangled in your face. This man just found his new favorite plaything, he’d be damned to stop this. 

Toji had you mangled in a mating press, feet planted firmly into his mattress, feeling every last bit of dick he could give. Holding your thighs back with large hands, he drilled into your poor cunt, legs hanging off his broad shoulders, the sounds of skin-on-skin vibrating in the room alongside his pants, and your loud moans.

“T-toji, ah! I-I’m sorry, t-too,” a deeper thrust sent a harsh quiver from your lips while his lips dropped low to your ear, “Too! Big! Cant!”

Grunting into your ear, the same smirk plastered on his face. He angled himself even deeper, never stopping the rhythm, slamming his inches into you. All you could do was take it and moan desperately. Head thrown back while eyes rolled back into your skull. 

“Don’t” thrust, “care.” He stated casually in your ear while his voice grew huskier, “Gonna fuck my cum into this lil’ ah, fuck, pussy. Make sure it only learns how to take me in.” He chuckled while he never stopped drilling, he pulled all the way out, leaving only the tip in. Causing you to pant rapidly at the loss of dick, hating how empty yet incredibly full you felt just from his tip alone.

“P-Please, please Toji, please,” fingers dug into his biceps in a fucked out voice, “don’t stop.”

“Aw,” he placed his forehead atop yours, mockingly cooing at the mess you’ve become. “Why should I let you cum?” He whispered now, lips ghosting over your own, “Had a lot to say about me being tiny but your greedy little cunt is both clinging onto me and stretching out. Disgusting girl” 

“I’m so so so so sorry, Toji I promise I’ll be good, I’ll be so good.” Frantically scanning over his face, your body still throbbing from the positions he put you in. Meanwhile, he felt just as warm to the touch, the feeling of sex coated him entirely his composure not faltering.

Wrapping a strong hand around your throat he tightened his grip as he pummeled right into you at once, body jerking forward at the sudden stretch. A loud gasp and moan abruptly left your mouth. Before he could continue pumping into you, his lips still hovering over yours, he had a cocky smile still etched onto his face.

“Sent Megumi off with his little friends, they’re having a sleepover.” His smirk deepened, “Oh don’t worry, you’ll be proving to me how good of a whore you’ll be for me all night.” He scoffed, “Maybe then in your little diary you can write about how good I fuck you.” He pulled out yet again, suddenly feeling his body weight push off your body entirely, making you whine at the loss of sensation in your cunt and body. In an instant, he flipped you over.

Back arched completely, chest pressed down into the sprawled-out duvet, legs spread out ready for him to obliterate all self-dignity you had left, his knee pushed into the bed behind you. Placing his socked foot in the back of your head, he gripped his cockhead dragging it along your puffy folds. Moaning slightly at the feeling of contact as he circled his massive tip around your clit, your eyes fluttered shut again. Drool seeped through the sides of your mouth not caring that this man had stolen all sense of respect you once held for yourself.

“Now,” his voice husky again grunting as his cock slowly teased at your entrance before shoving it in at a tantalizing pace. Staring in awe at your hole as it glistened, hearing your cunt squelch around his thick width, “Hear her for me?” Physically tightening at the words he just said, he let out a slight grunt.

“Mhm,” you let out a mangled noise which caused him to chuckle, feeling his foot press deeper onto the back of your head while your fingers desperately gripped at the sheets below. 

“Maybe,” he pushed himself in, a wild smile on his face while he heard you whimper below, thrashing around still not used to a length this immense. “You should listen to her more often than that dumb little brain of yours princess.” 

Swiftly gripping your wrist, he firmly pinned it back at the small of your back, while rapidly thrusting in and out all at once. “Ah! Ah! T-Toji… So! Hnghhh, G-Good,” moans incredibly muffled as they were pushed into the sheets, cunt gripping onto him every time he moved in and out.

Grunting at the view of your ass clapping back at his pelvic region every time he drilled inside, your walls trying their hardest to take him. He only cackled before whistling, harshly slamming a hand down on your ass letting it recoil with a red mark left behind.

“Should’ve told you I read that stupid diary ages ago…”

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Gojo ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Failed date

“Ding! New message from ‘toruu.’” The robotic voice announced in your headphones, breaking you from wallowing in your sorrowful haze.

Shuffling in your bed, trying to forget the events that unfolded earlier today, your hand reached out to your nightstand fidgeting around to find your phone. You thought maybe lying down with sad music blaring in your ears would help, but spoiler; it did not. Groaning slightly while your eyes try to adjust to the phone's brightness. A failed date equated to a failed day, lo and behold, your eccentric friend was at your side ready to wipe away any discomfort. 

Shifting your body upwards, a smile couldn’t help but be formed at his words. At the end of the day, the guy was just that, a guy. There was nothing to stress over. Was there a slight skip in a heartbeat hearing Satoru speak fondly upon you? Yes. But that’s all that there was. Risking a friendship with him wasn’t worth it in the grand scheme. He was appealing in all senses, there was no surprise that girls and boys alike flocked to him like candy. Getting laid wasn’t exactly the objective, but hanging onto things that weren’t feasible was. 

Joking with Satoru came second nature, but having him become defensive over a harmless joke startled you a bit. ‘There’s no way he’s acting like this.’ Nibbling at your bottom lip staring at him laughing in all caps. Is he being defensive? Eyes moving back and forth on the screen questioning what to say next, the conversation continued.

Snickering to yourself, ‘Oh, so he IS being defensive.’ The thought danced around in your head, rolling eyes at every other thing he texted. “There is no way he is serious,” mumbling to yourself like a madman in the dead of night alone while speaking to nothing but the screen at hand. 

A light ping indicated that your message was sent, as you glanced at the dots that appeared from his end. Breath slightly hitching at what he stated next.

Eyes widening, breath caught in throat quickly throwing the phone down face first as your face burnt. Breathing shallow breaths to catch up, time felt a bit still before shaking hands gripped the phone, and slowly brought it into your line of sight. 

My God was Satoru Gojo, huge.

His tip was a light dusty pink, almost made to be kissed, forming a beautiful head that had a bead of translucent precum decorating the slit. The shaft was thick, matching his milky pale tone and fading into an ombre ending right where the tip started. His veins were many, mapped out all around his shaft, up and down, a prominent one stood at the center. It looked heavy, he appeared to be standing up in the picture. A white-happy trail formed alongside the end of his abs and faded around into his neatly groomed bush. You blinked slowly, taking in the image of your best friend’s fat cock. He wasn’t lying. At all. He had to be pushing 8 inches and more. This was the image alone, thumb hovering slightly over the video attachment. Feeling your cunt pulsate slightly and clit growing a bit hard, shuffling some more. 

‘I can't be getting wet over my friend. This is so wrong, he’s probably joking too right? Guys do this all the time with their guy friends. Except, I’m not a guy…’

Biting the bullet and taking the initiative, clicking the video attachment was a wrong, wrong idea. Still, in the same position, his gray sweat pushed down his mid-thigh, the flash was strong in the video. In your ears, everything was heard. Still standing erect, you could hear him lightly chuckle, almost as if he was taunting you in the same room. For some reason, the slick heat flooded more, He brought his large veiny hand, placing it side by side with his cock, holy shit, it was larger than his hand. He spoke your name in a sultry voice one that sent waves crashing down your pussy, a voice that you’ve never heard before. 

“You already know how big my hand is, I mean you’ve held it before. Do with that information what you will.” You could hear the smirk in his voice before plopping on the bed before him, a soft grunt echoed in your ears. So his dick was heavy, it flopped straight on his abs which elicited a laugh on his end. 

“Sorry, I couldn't send you it while lying down. It’s a bit too heavy.” With that, the video ended. Gulping and staring dumbfounded, your fingers anxiously wrote whatever they could, trying to keep any semblance of a friendly demeanor. 

Sighing while rolling your eyes at his behavior, mentally sighing that he's back acting like the immature soul he’s always been. Guess, it’s time to rely on the good ol’ vibrator to solve this problem. Knowing him he’d probably hang this compliment over your head for eternity and that was that with this conversation, which is why what he stated startled you a bit.

Staring at the screen once more, feeling a bit anxious about his response. All that could be thought of is if the wrong thing was said to him. He’d be over the moon hearing that his cock is big as fuck, right? Sighing while dropping your shoulders and clicking the side button to shut the phone off, eyes closing once more while the back of your head met the soft headboard. 

“Ding! New message from: ‘toruu.’”

Eyes widening, the heat still pooling in your lace panties, thanking yourself for another failed date. Within ten minutes the phone was chucked out of hand, racing to get ready for his arrival even though it wasn’t the typical hangout.

Slipping on a lacy, cerulean bra and throwing it on, keeping the same undies on having a feeling that the slick wetness would be favored for you both, fixing your hair, spritzing a gourmand perfume, applying a bubble-gum colored lip gloss, and pulling on a light blue hoodie, tight black spandex shorts, with black house sandals. It wasn’t long before a certain man rang the doorbell.

Rushing to the door while maintaining some form of composure and unlocking it to be met with piercing eyes and a shit-eating grin towering over you. He wore the same sweats in the video and a black hoodie that did very little to hide his massive frame.

“Hi,” he stated in his typical voice, eyes looking over his glasses down at your face, as he put one strong arm over the doorframe. “Hello, ‘Toru…” audibly speaking so only he heard, while a light blush scattered across your face.

“Heard your date got canceled or whatever, what a bummerrrrrrr.” He rolled his eyes exaggerating his disdain due to unexpected plans. “Gonna let me in?” His voice stated in a whisper while studying the curves of your body. 

Slightly nodding, shifting to the side to let the tall figure in, a waft of his cologne hit all senses and shot straight to your core. 

While he walked in, your hand pressed against the doorframe closing it and locking it before a large hand turned you around. Gasping at the sudden feel of his hand around your waist, while the rest of your body was pushed against the door. Staring up at his face, not recognizing the look displayed on his usual happy-go-lucky face, painted a darkened expression of desire. Satoru pressed your chest against the front of his body, pushing you closer by the hand on the back of your waist. Caging you in his embrace, the other hand laid flat behind the door.

Smelling his sweet breath from the various candies he indulged in, the air hit the tip of your nose while his lips were merely inches away from your own. 

“No offense,” his voice silky, smooth, and deeper than usual, “Kinda glad this asshole bailed on you. Wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you anyways.” His smile deepened while you responded by cupping his soft face in both hands. 

Breath a bit higher than a whisper, lips almost touching his while his grip on your waist felt stronger, “Oh, yeah ‘Toru, and you know what to do?” 

Feeling a vibration from his chest against your frame, as a laugh erupted from him, he stared into your eyes intensely. “Let me kiss your lips and show you. I think you know by now my words match up with my actions.”

Almost on command, both of you smashed your lips into one another savoring the feeling of tasting what you wanted for so long. Mutually moaning slightly upon the impact, Satoru quickly moved his large hands to caress all over your tinier frame. Ass, waist, thighs, hair, neck, his long slender fingers were everywhere, anywhere, every chance he could get to press you impossibly close to him.

Mouth agape, he took it as an opportunity to slip his tongue in, slithering it around your mouth while your tongue circled his own. Hands entangled in his hair, tilting your head, and on cue, he did the same. Tongues squelching and roaming each other's mouths as if you’ve been thirsty and the only cure was one another. His hands finally stop at your ass, giving a light squeeze before carrying you up, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Breaking away faces mimicking a blush on both faces, a string of saliva connecting your lips. Slightly panting as your forehead meets his, he stares deeply into your eyes. “Cute and all,” he says still in a haze, “but those weren’t the lips I was talking about.”

-

Hovering over his torso, while your mouth was stuffed with his huge cock. Hungrily lapping up his dick with your tongue, your hand wrapped around his base in a circular motion going up and down while your mouth struggled slightly to take the entirety of him in. Moans sent vibrations across his huge shaft, he was so big, so so so big. You loved every minute of it, it was evident with the sticky residue of cum that formed on his thighs and pubic hair from the previous rounds you’d gone. Saliva pooled on his dick, to rest on his balls and underneath his thighs. 

It was a mess, “Mhm!” You panted, separating yourself from having his cock buried down your throat but quickly attaching your lips at the head, smearing precum on like a lip product. Lapping the precum up and down the slit, before indulging his length back in. “Sa-Satoru- Ah! S-Stop!” Lips making a ‘pop!’ noise after pulling his dick from your throat, hands still echoing a wet sound as they both rapidly jerked him off.

Gojo laid on his back his face stuffed in your cunt, “Cant, ahhhh, too good,” His voice sounding hoarse. Bringing his head up even further into your slick heat, he licked long strips with his tongue from clit, hole, and ass. Both of his large hands spread your cheeks apart, your discharge soaking the bottom half of his face. He dove in head first, nose pressed directly in your pussy while his mouth harshly sucked at your clit, twirling it around his tongue effortlessly. Years of sucking on candy couldn’t compare to this. Pulling away both hands from your ass, he placed them on the front of your thighs, forcing you to sit on his face with a welp that broke away the string of moans.

Continuing to jerk him off, your eyes crossed while spitting down his length, feeling him twitch slightly under your motion. You mewled, “Mhpmh! Satoruuuuuuu!”

Harshly sucking on it before pulling away, he kissed your clit before dragging his head around in a circular motion licking all around like a madman. He closed his eyes and buried his tongue deep in your walls that tightened and contracted around him. Bobbing his head back and forth, tongue fucking your tiny hole, thumb diligently working in circles on your swollen clit. Slowly feeling your high soon approaching in waves and feeling him twitch even more violently underneath you. 

He moaned deep into your cunt while high-pitched yells escaped your throat, “Oh! Oh! Oooooh! Oh, Satoru! I’m c-cumm- ah!” Soon enough, Satoru’s face was full of liquid when your orgasm arrived. Sticking a tongue out noticing him jerk in your hands, closing your eyes, while cum painting your tongue and face. Swallowing him all while quivering from the impact of cumming all over his face.

For once in your life, this was the most quiet Satoru has ever been. 

Breaking away from your cunt, Satoru took a deep breath, laughing to himself shakily.

“Fuck, I should pay men more often not to date you.”

[omgeto]

☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

wc: 3k

cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI

an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.

as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.

and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.

he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.

"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.

"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."

geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."

your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"

he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."

with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.

"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.

his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.

you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.

geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."

“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”

"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."

you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.

with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."

he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."

you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.

with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.

"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop. 

geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours. 

his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.

"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.

“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.

“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”

“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.

he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised.  ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.

as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer. 

“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.

“what type of pain?” you retort.

“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.

“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”

geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."

with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.

he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.

as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."

geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."

“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”

“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”

you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art. 

“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”

“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”

“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.

“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”

“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.

“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”

“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know. 

he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.

geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you. 

he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.

“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”

“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”

“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.

“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”

before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force. 

“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”

you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere. 

“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.

“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.

with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.

geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”

“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”

“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.” 

with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.

your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.

“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”

“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.

“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.

AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Smile for the Camera

It’s 10pm sharp when I start my stream. I’ve always been on time, always with my makeup on flawlessly, hair styled perfectly, and bedroom set curated just right to show my pretty pink sheets and collection of toys.

I smile and wave at the camera, tossing my hair back to reveal the pink lingerie set I’ve chosen for tonight.

“Good evening everyone! I’m sooo glad to see so many of you tuning in!”

The chat inbox floods with greetings from my audience and there’s an influx of money that comes from my particularly generous viewers. I giggle and flirt with my viewers, many of whom who have become regulars in my viewership population.

Someone in the audience asks for a strip tease and I feel my pussy pulse in response, looking forward to a night of performing for my devoted viewers.

I start slow, running my fingers up and down my body, brushing gently over my lingerie-clad nipples and whimpering loudly for the microphone to pick up. My eyes stare into the camera, all of my thoughts melting away as I fall into my role of entertainer.

Teasingly, I pull along the shoulder straps of my top, letting the fabric fall away from my chest to show off my perky tits and hardened nipples that are always a fan favorite. My hands dance over my chest, pulling gently at my nipples in a way that makes my moans completely genuine. My eyes glance to the screen and I see the excitement building in my chat box, and my account balance steadily rising.

Suddenly, I hear the lock on my door click and my body goes cold. The door to my room is out of the video shot, behind my camera setup and before I can even react, the door slams open.

I let out a startled yelp as my arms instinctively cover my chest. In the corner of my eye, I see the chat go crazy as my audience tries to figure out what it is they’re hearing but not seeing off screen. My attention is wholly focused on the man whose frame fills my doorway.

I scramble off my bed. “What the fuck? Why are you in my house?” My voice is shaking with fear and shrill with panic. I’m far too preoccupied to even think about the livestream anymore.

My fear deepens when I see him leer at me and stalk through my door and towards me without any hesitation.

“A fucking whore like you should be more gracious to me,” he says, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. He and I are both in the camera’s view now and the viewers on my stream are firing off more messages than before, speculating over who he is and what is going on.

Without saying anything else, he moves to me faster than I can evade and grabs my hair. My mouth opens to scream but before sound can escape, he throws me chest down onto my bed. The air is forced out of my lungs and for a moment, I’m still and stunned. The next moment, he’s on me.

His hand is buried in my hair, keeping my face pressed down against the bed while he forces my ass up into the air. I struggle uselessly against him, unable to push up off the bed or move myself away from his ironclad grip. My cries are muffled against my bed and I want to scream and yell for help but there’s not enough air in my lungs.

His free hand lands a sharp slap against my ass that make me jolt forwards and arch my back further in pain. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to land blow after blow. My arms begin to flail, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as I struggle.

“Stop fucking moving, whore,” he growls at me. I feel the spanks subside for a moment and I can feel my ass burning red and throbbing from the pain. My head spins from the abuse and the lack of oxygen. I feel his large hand find my wrist, his fingers locking around me in a bruising hold as he yanks my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder.

The hand on my head finally comes away and I raise my head just enough to gasp in much-needed oxygen. In that split second, he’d grabbed and secured my other arm behind my back as well, his one hand effortless holding my arms crossed behind my back. My body is still bent over, knees on the bed and ass up in the air. My only saving grace is that I can raise my head enough to breathe and glance at my laptop, showing the livestream still ongoing.

My eyes dart across the screen, reading messages as fast as I can. None of them show any concern for me, in fact, a vast majority are discussing how much they wished they were the ones holding my body down in this moment.

“Fuck yes, show that whore her place.”

“God, what would I do to be there to punish her for always teasing us.”

“I bet her cunt is dripping wet right now.”

I whine softly when I see that message because it’s right. “Please, let me go!” I turn my head to look at the menace of a man behind me. He flashes a dark grin at me, “Not until I fuck you out of your whore mind.”

His words echo in my head and panic rises within me. “Please! No! Stop! Someone help me!” I make eye contact with the camera, begging at its cold, dark lens.

He laughs behind me. “There’s no one here to help you, whore. You and I both know that every single person watching behind their computer screen is more than eager to see your whore body get ruined.”

As he speaks, his free hand pulls his belt and pants undone enough for him to pull his massive cock out. I let out a choked gasp when I see it.

“Wait, no, please, you’re too big, it’s not going to fit! Please!” My voice shakes and I start to struggle harder against him. His body dwarfs mine and I watch through the camera as he rips my panties off, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, whore.” I feel the head of his cock brush against my dripping slit and my eyes widen.

“Wait, please-” My begging ends in a wail as he slams himself into me to the hilt. The painful stretch makes tears spring into my eyes but unimaginable pleasure quickly follows as his cock nudges into every sensitive spot inside of me. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to rut into me mercilessly.

Every thrust makes my body shake with pain-tinged pleasure and pathetic moans are spilling out of my mouth as my eyes roll upwards. My hazy vision catches a glimpse of us on the camera. I look like a rag doll, back arched, ass in the air, and shuddering as he towers over me, his cock sinking into my cunt.

Every thrust is accompanied by the squelch of my wetness and the sound of our bodies slamming into each other. The bed creaks under us as his body moves like a machine, drilling into me. “Fuck, you tight fucking whore, your pussy was made for me huh?”

His voice is guttural. Suddenly, he grips my upper arms and yanks me upwards. His other hand comes around to grip my throat as he traps me against his front. The new angle makes his cock stab even deeper into me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Look at the fucking camera, whore. Show them what a fucked out little slut you are. Go ahead, smile for the camera.” His thrusts seem to come even faster now.

I have tears falling from my eyes as my face reddens from his constricting grip around my neck.

“Smile or I choke you out on my cock like this,” he snarls, hips never stuttering in their punishing pace. I let out a muffled groan and try my best to focus myself enough to obey.

I stare through half-lidded eyes at the camera, barely coherent. My lips pull up in a small, desperate smile as I feel myself gradually running out of air.

“Good fucking whore. Now tell them how much you like having your whore cunt fucked.” His hand leaves my throat and goes to pinch my clit harshly, making me squeal.

“Ah- I like having, ah-, my whore cunt fucked!” My voice is hoarse, my orgasm fast approaching as he starts to roughly roll my clit between his fingers.

“That’s right, and you’re going to cum like this aren’t you, whore? Come on, cum all over me, show them how much you love this.” His words combined with the brutal assault on my body push me over the edge and with a desperate wail, I fall apart.

I hear him groan lowly behind me as my pussy clenches around him, my orgasm ripping through my senses. He uses my body harder than ever, treating me like a sex toy as he chases his own release. He slams himself into me one final time as he erupts, his grip bruising my arms as he keeps me in place.

I collapse against him, a boneless, overstimulated mess. He lets me down gently onto the bed, pulling out of me. The sound of his cock squelching out of my pussy makes my viewers more than aware of how well-fucked I am. He steps away from the bed and towards my filming setup. He leans into the camera and smirks.

“Let me know how else you want to see this whore fucked. If your idea is good, maybe I’ll let you come and enjoy her too.” With that, he shuts the camera off and closes out of the streaming site.

My body is still limp on the bed. I feel him settle next to me and pull me close before brushing my hair away from my forehead and kissing my nose.

“Do you think they liked me?” His murmurs.

“They loved you,” I say, breathless and drowsy from what we just did.

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want my debut on your stream to make a bad first impression,” he says, frowning down at me a little. It makes me let out a soft laugh.

I tilt my head up to kiss his jawline, “Only you would fuck the life out of me on livestream and then worry that you did a bad job.”

I giggle again and he grumbles back at me, “Shut up and sleep, I’ll clean up.” His kiss on my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.

[m0thmonster]

i used to look at and want a tumblr so bad when i was a kid and then i realized years later the reason i never was active once i made one was because this site is for people who have someone to be and i dont know who i am

[chrissturnsfav]

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

as you scroll through your phone looking at pictures of perfect skinny girls, you can't help but compare your curvy body to theirs and wish you were as beautiful as them. but your boyfriend knows exactly how to make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

ᰔᩚ requested from @littlestella2010: Can you write a Matt x fem reader and she is chubby and I don’t know you write smut I prefer smut but you don’t do smut fics can you do fluff

ᰔᩚ bf!matt, soft!matt x chubby!reader, fluff, body image issues, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), creampie, praise kink

ᰔᩚ w.c. 1,684

you scroll through your instagram feed, the bright, curated photos of skinny, effortlessly beautiful girls filling your screen. they pose in trendy outfits, smiles wide and radiant, their confidence practically glowing through the photos. as you swipe, a familiar feeling settles in—an ache of insecurity that wraps around your heart like a heavy blanket.

you glance down at yourself, feeling the snugness of your clothes. the way they hug your body, the tiny rolls that spill over the waistband of your jeans. it’s hard not to compare, especially when every post seems to scream perfection. your mind races with thoughts that echo too loudly: “why can’t i look like that?” “what are they doing that i’m not?”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the feelings aside as you put your phone down beside you, but they linger. the laughter in the photos, the vibrant energy—it all feels so far removed from how you see yourself in the mirror. you wish you could feel that same confidence, that same ease, but instead, you feel like you’re living in a shadow, just out of reach.

as you lean back against the soft sheets of matt's bed, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body beside you. the dim light casts a gentle glow, making his room feel intimate. you catch him stealing glances at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“hey,” he says softly, a hint of concern in his gentle voice as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “you okay?”

you nod, but there’s still a flutter of insecurity in your stomach.

he senses it, the slight shift in your mood. "something seems wrong, what's up baby, talk to me," he asks gently, shifting on the bed to sit directly in front of you.

you shrug, staring down in your lap as your eyes move along the small curves of your stomach, "just...there's so many pretty girls on instagram. and they're always skinny. i wish i looked like them..." you express softly.

you pick up your phone again, handing it to matt to look at some of the instagram posts of the perfect looking girl you were stalking.

he holds your phone in his hands, swiping through the pictures. “i see. those girls are pretty skinny,” he says, his tone gentle. “but you know that doesn’t mean anything, right?”

you shrug, feeling a lump form in your throat. “they look...they just look perfect, and here i am looking so much heavier than them. it just sucks, makes me feel...ugly," you mumble.

matt’s expression shifts to something more serious, gently gripping your chin and lifting it so your eyes are on him. “no, listen to me,” he says, taking your hand in his free one and squeezing it firmly. “you are not ugly, you're beautiful. and i mean it. your curves are perfect baby, you don't have to be skinny to be pretty."

you meet his gaze, searching for sincerity, and find it there—deep and unwavering. “really?” you ask, a mix of hope and disbelief in your voice.

he scoffs, “of course,” he replies, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “i love everything about you. its not all about looks, baby. the way you're so kind to everyone, the way you laugh, all that other shit. that's what matters to me most."

his words wrap around you like a warm hug, and you can feel the tension in your chest begin to ease. “but those girls…they look so perfect.”

matt shakes his head, leaning in closer. “what’s real is so much better. you’re real, and that’s what I love. and you're still beautiful on top of it. trust me, you don’t need to change a thing. i wouldn't lie to you and you know that. i'm not saying this to just try and make you feel better, i'm being 100% honest with you."

with his reassurance, the weight of your insecurities starts to lift. you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling grateful for his presence. “thank you,” you say softly.

matt's arms move around you, pulling you closer to him like a koala bear as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt comfortingly, "don't thank me, i'm just telling you the truth."

you pull away from his embrace, your arms still around his shoulders as you gaze into his eyes and take in the pools of blue. matt smiles softly at you, "want me to show you how perfect you really are?" he asks, a hint of lust in his gentle tone.

you nod with a hint of pink creeping on your cheeks, a bashful smile on your lips as you feel desire slowly running through you. matt smirks softly as his hand slides to your waist, fingers tracing the curve.

as he leans in closer, you can feel the heat between you, the tension crackling in the air. his lips brush against yours, soft and inviting, and you melt into the kiss, feeling cherished and adored.

“you deserve to feel amazing,” he murmurs against your lips. “and i'm gonna show you just how pretty you are.”

with every gentle caress and reassuring kiss, he makes you forget your worries completely, allowing you to embrace the moment fully. in his arms, you feel desired and gorgeous—just as you are.

the kisses grow a bit more hungry, his tongue massaging your own as his fingers creep below your top and they slowly run over your now hardened nipple.

he leans further into you, not breaking the kiss as he mumbles against your lips, "lay down for me."

you oblige immediately, letting your body fall against his bed as he hovers over you. his lips are soft against yours as his hands rest on your tits, brushing over your nipples that make you shiver beneath him.

he pulls your shirt over your head before pressing his lips lustfully against yours again. one of his hands move to unbutton your jeans and tug down the zipper as your thighs burn with need for him.

his lips move down to your jawline to leave wet kisses along it, then moving down to your neck. your hands are behind his neck, gently toying with the brunette strands as your eyes flutter shut, tiny whimpers escaping your needy lips.

"you're perfect," matt murmurs softly against your collarbone, his fingers tracing the curves on your stomach as his other hand pulls your sticky panties down.

his lips move down to the valley between your tits, his hand caressing one of them while his other remains on your waist.

your body is aching with desire, fingers now tugging softly at his hair and he smirks against your skin, "your curves are so pretty," he mumbles, fingers tracing your underboob.

his lips then move to your stomach, kissing every curve there is as he whispers, "wish you saw yourself how i see you."

moments later, matt's jeans and boxers are discarded somewhere on the floor. your thick thighs rest on his shoulders as he moves gently, but quickly into you. you pant, moaning softly at the ecstasy as he watches above you with a soft smirk.

his hands grip your hips tightly, watching his hardened dick move and out of your sopping pussy as small grunts leave his lips, "see, so pretty," he groans lowly, your hands resting behind his neck as you moan.

"so curvy 'n perfect, i love you," he pants as his pace quickens, watching your fucked out face twist in pleasure.

"i-i love you," you respond in a whimper, your half lidded eyes opening to look at him through blurry vision.

matt smiles softly at you as he breathes heavily, "just as beautiful as those other girls," he grunts deeply, moving his face in the crook of your neck as he kisses it deeply.

you moan softly, his breath on your neck making you feel weak while you grow closer with each movement he makes.

one of his hands move to your thigh on his shoulder, picking his head up and leaving sloppy kisses against the skin, "such thick thighs my girl's got," he murmurs in a grunt.

his praising words only make you grow closer to the edge, your moans squeaky in pleasure and euphoria, "f-feels so good," you breathe out.

matt smirks softly against your thigh, "yeah, it does, right?" he mumbles in a breathy moan. "wanna make my curvy girl feel beautiful."

your thighs begin to burn, your orgasm seconds away as your hands move to cup his face, turning it to look out at your twisted expression, "i-i'm...m'gonna cum," you say in a choked out moan.

"mhm, go ahead pretty girl, make a pretty mess on me," he mumbles in a deep grunt, feeling his own high approaches as well.

your jaw falls open, legs shaking on his shoulders as he grips your thighs with a smirk at your expression. your high pitched moans are like music to his ears, his climax moments away at the sight of you cumming so pretty for him.

"look so pretty when you're cumming for me, m'so close," he pants, his actions growing messy and quicker leaving you moaning softly as you come down from your high.

your thumbs brush against his cheeks, watching him get closer and closer as he grunts deeply, fingers digging into the soft skin on your thighs.

"shit," he hisses deeply, thrusting one last time into you as his eyes roll back and he releases his thick load inside of you. he pants as he pulls out, watching his seed drip out of you with a soft smirk.

he looks back up at you, all messy and tired from the events that just transpired, "you okay?" he asks softly, leaning his face close to yours, his breath fanning against your face.

"yeah," you breathe out, "you make me feel so pretty," you smile, your hands still cupping his face.

matt smiles in awe at your words, pecking your lips lovingly, "good, that's what i wanted to hear," he mumbles against your lips.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: this was such an adorable request! i hope you all liked it, wanted to get it up before halloweekend bc i will most likely be very inactive and getting plastered LMAO.

thank you for reading!! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[i-am-lifeform24]

Curated Companions: Part 2

--------------🔞Masterlist🔞Part 1🔞Part 3🔞Part 4🔞---------------

---------[ IVE Wonyoung - @okaylikesmomo ]----------

Were clocks always this loud? Every tick, every tock, each one reverberating against your eardrums. The cacophony of time passing did nothing to help make it pass quicker - every second felt like a minute. Did hotel rooms typically have analog clocks? Was that a perk of being placed into a more boujee room? This evening was going to be filled with many firsts.

It didn’t matter. What did matter was that your palms were getting clammy. That needed to be addressed - you wouldn’t want this girl thinking you were nervous. Would she even notice? Do girls offering this service care if you’re nervous? Unfortunately for you, the glass of water you just spilled while reaching for some tissues would probably be a dead giveaway.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath, quickly reaching for some more tissues to wipe the mess.

As if things couldn’t get worse, the sound of knuckles on wood filled the room. After wiping as much of the water as you could from the coffee table, you rushed over to the door. The ticking and tocking that was bothering you just a moment ago was inaudible now over the thump of your heart slamming into your chest.

“H-Hello,” you answered the door, hating yourself for stumbling over a single word.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Wonyoung,” the goddess of a woman introduced herself while holding out her hand. Her voice was dripping with this unexplainable air of quality. She smiled warmly at you as you shook her hand, so much more beautiful in person. The pictures absolutely did not do her justice. “May I come in?”

“Oh right, of course, yeah, come in!” you stammered, stepping aside for her after you realized that handshake went on for far too long to be considered socially acceptable.

The two of you walked over to the couch where Wonyoung took off her coat and placed it next to her purse on the side. You sat down next to her, unable to stop staring at her beautiful body - every inch of her was perfect. Then, as she stared at you with an expectant smile, you realized you never even introduced yourself.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot, I’m-”

“Relax,” she hushed you with that same voice of allurement. The beautiful girl leaned forward, giving you a peek down her top which you absolutely could not avoid, and picked up the glass you spilled earlier off the floor. “It’s completely natural to be nervous, is it your first time using a service like this?”

“It is,” you answered after taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No more apologizing,” she whispered, moving closer to you on the couch. “I’m here for you, to make you feel good, to fulfill your desires.”

She was good at this. In just moments she calmed you down significantly. However, just as your heartbeat began to ease, it spiked again at her next words.

“You’re allowed to touch them if you’d like.”

Was your staring that obvious? Before you could think about it, the answer shot through you as her hand grabbed yours gently and guided it towards her chest. You gave her an instinctual little squeeze, relishing in the softness of her chest.

“We can go as fast or as slow as you want,” she continued while unbuttoning her top, letting her cleavage peek out just slightly. “You get to decide,” she added, putting one hand on your thigh and gently rubbing up and down.

The invitation to take her top off was right there for the taking, but you didn’t have the courage - not yet at least.

“Do you want to talk about what you want to do?” she asked innocently. “Tell me what does it for you, we can do anything.”

“I…” you hesitated again.

She simply giggled before sticking her chest out, nonverbally begging for you to open her top. Finally, you found the conviction to reach forward with both hands, freeing her tits from the fabric. The act alone awoke something in you - a clear reminder that this girl was here for you to do anything you wanted.

“There we go,” she whispered as both your hands began squeezing her chest. “Can I touch you?”

A nod was all you could muster as you fixated on her tits, and that was all she needed. Within seconds she had unbuttoned your pants and freed your already stiff shaft.

“So, want to tell me what you’re going to do to me tonight?” she asked again as her hand gently stroked your cock, lacking the innocent tone from before.

“I want to… cum on your tits… and in your mouth…” you answered breathily, overwhelmed by how soft her hand was. “I want to fuck you, I want to hear you moan.”

“There we go,” she smiled warmly, picking up the pace of her hand. “Keep going, where are you fucking me, tell me how you’re fucking me.”

“Anywhere,” you gasped as she sped up again. “I’m going to fuck you hard, right before I cum on that pretty face.”

“Is that what you want? You want to cover my pretty face?” she moaned, leaning even closer to you.

“I want to kiss your pretty face.”

“What’s stopping you?” she whispered, holding her lips out right in front of your mouth, stroking you as hard and fast as she physically could.

Your mind was going hazy as your cock was burning in warm sensation. Without hesitation you pushed your lips against hers, closing your eyes and letting your other senses take over. You kissed her tenderly for only a few seconds before gasping and leaning back as you felt your cock ready to explode.

“Fuck,” you gasped as your cock abruptly began shooting ropes onto Wonyoung’s slender fingers.

She slowed down the stroking, smiling brighter than ever proud that she made you bust so quickly. “It’s going to be a very long night,” she giggled, squeezing the last few drops of cum out of your shaft.

-----[ Le Sserafim Chaewon - @gangplanksorenji ]----

“Why were you even here?”

The silence was loud, ringing in your ear as her black orbs darted towards you, demanding an answer. You know eliciting something that can fulfill her is utter stupidity, because it was clearly something that shouldn’t end like that—

“Because I did so—and you’re still keeping that scar, huh?” And so you answer.

She grits her teeth as her eyes fire with annoyance, visibly frustrated with what you said on the latter, then clearly becoming apathetic towards you. “I hope to god you would never do this again—”

Catching her off-guard, you grab her right wrist, pulling her petite figure towards you without a sweat, making her lock her eyes and steam her anger out and you smile mischievously. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Ms. Kim Chae-won.”

You clearly don’t, and this isn’t part of a deal you knew with her. She knows it herself yet she chose to be a selfish hypocrite—well, in your own, observatory words. 

“And I don’t appreciate—”

You grip her wrists tighter, making her wince in a hint of pain, further igniting that fire in her. “Try me.”

You stare straight to her soul, and she couldn’t afford to do the same for god knows why as her eyes darted towards your body. Her antics bore you, but you like the fact that it’s something that fulfills your own wants, writing up the history books. “Fucking want me?”

You’re smug and hubristic, knowing that if she lied to you, she’d just be eating up the words and shattering her ego. She hates your current demeanor but she can’t lie, and she wouldn’t dare to as your hotness permeates the air between the both of you. “I wouldn’t deny it, honestly…”

Maybe this was a little too fast, but there’s no time to waste as spun her, her back flat against the concrete wall and eyeing every inch of her body. “You never fail to impress me, Chaewon.”

“Of course I always do, now…” She has her eyes on the prize, within her hands reach as she pulls your denim jacket, dangerously close to her. “You gotta give me what I want—”

Well, not anything goes on her way and you’re tired of it, and at this moment, it just fits so well that she’s not the one in authority. Your hands stop her as she advances towards your lower abdomen, knowing that this is out of bounds on what she should have been. ��I’m sorry but this is out of what you’re capable to—” You pinned her harder against the wall, smelling her floral scent and latching your lips onto the scrumptious, porcelain skin of her neck, the muttered, “—I’m the one does the talking—you obey.”

Like casting a spell on her, Chaewon’s iron walls collapse, giving in as she moans almost inaudibly, hitching a breath and fighting the urge of gratification she’s feeling. “You don’t need to suppress it, Chaewon—I know you wanted them since the last time we met—”

“God, don’t you ever s-shut—oh—up? But fuck—” Even her own hubristic self shatters periodically, as she gives in with her desperations and frustrations of being deprived for who know how long. “—y-your lips, they’re good.”

As she finds satisfaction with your actions, is your answer to further tease and deprive her since you’re under control. You didn’t care if she’s even enjoying it because as selfish as this sounds, you’ll make it stay that way because you paint your own series of events—she knows every action is within your accord, and as much as she hates it, she wouldn’t dare and complain. “Of course they always do, but now...” You pull away your lips from the porcelain skin of her neck and collarbones as you stare at her intimidatingly, letting your demeanor puzzle her and the commanding prowess be the one to start the long-anticipated show.

“You better get that thing inside me later.”

“You’re ambitious, Chaewon.” With her petite frame, it wasn’t a challenge to grab her and pull her towards you, then, your lips muttered against her ear, “On your knees first.”

After you finish the sentence, you can just see her smirk, confidence evident within her as she scoffs, knowing how you’re in the scope of her field of expertise. “You’re daring, huh? You’ll get lost to the point you’ll think it’s my tight cunt.”

You squint your eyes ephemerally, hesitant with her words since you reflect your beliefs on such a famous saying. “We’ll see what those slutty lips have to offer.”

If it means to test her limits, then so be it…

------------[ ALICE Sohee - @sparklingblu ]-------------

The night is silent except for the steady click click resonating around the room as your finger travels from one key to another.  

Your eyes sting from being exposed to the bright screen of the laptop for two hours straight. Somewhere far away, a clock tower chimes. It's already 1 am. 

You misclick a key and bite back another curse to your boss. For Christ's sake, it's Christmas eve and you are stuck in your hotel room with a report that must be finished by morning. You chug down the third cup of coffee, throwing your head back. Even with your eyes closed, there's no rest. Colorful spots dance across your vision from the long exposure to the laptop screen. You are starting to doze off when a loud knock interrupts your peaceful slumber. 

Who could it be at this time of the night? You don’t remember ordering any room service. Maybe you are starting to hear things because of your deprivation of sleep. You are going to leave it at that and go back to your drowsy sleep when the sound appears once more, this time louder. 

Grunting, you walk to the door groggily and swing it open, not even bothering to check the peephole. If this is a robbery, you can’t care less. Even better if they take the laptop so you can make up an excuse and get some well-deserved rest. It’s not a robbery, unfortunately. Or is it? 

On the other side of the door stands the woman of your dreams and you mean it quite literally. Sohee, your obsession, gives you a sly smile as if she knows how crazy you are about her. It doesn’t matter because the boner that’s slowly growing in your pants after seeing her perfect figure in that black one piece dress has already given you away. 

“Can I come in?” She doesn’t need to ask, you have already move aside to make room. 

You close the door and turn, only to get your eyes blessed with the view of Sohee’s fat ass that millions of people fantasize about going to town on. If her clothed ass already gets your blood rushing you wonder what will happen if you see it bare. 

Sohee meets your gaze, shifting her body to turns towards you. “The money first”  

You have no idea what she’s talking about but in the presence of Sohee, your own will crumbles and before you know it, you are handing her every cash in your wallet. Sohee sets the money on the bedside table before closing the distance between two of you. 

Her fingers move to your underside, unbuttoning your jeans until it’s pulled down all the way and you are standing in your boxer. She kneels, taking a moment to admire your bulge before pulling the piece of fabric down. Your rock hard cock springs up instantly and she wraps her slender fingers around the base, giving it a single pump. That simple movement already have you yearning for more and Sohee obliges by wrapping her soft lips around your tip while keeping both of her hands busy by stroking the unattended parts. Her tongue flicks over your leaking slit and you let out a moan, then another, then a couple more. Sohee continues her masterclass, her head bobbing in harmony with each stroke of her hands and each movement extracts a thought that’s not about her lips, her tongue or her fingers. Sohee speeds up her movement, now twisting her fingers each time the warmth of her oral hole engulfs your shaft. The whole act is messy, sloppy and most importantly, addictive. If she goes a minute more, you are going to blow your load down her throat and you quickly order her to stop before you can enjoy the main course. 

Sohee releases your shaft, now glistening with her saliva, and wipes her mouth. “Need something else?” she asks. 

“I need to see that fat ass of yours” you demand and Sohee lips curve into a smile. 

“Of course, dear. Anything you want” 

Sohee gets on the bed on all fours, wriggling her ass. “Don’t keep a lady waiting” 

And you don’t plan to because you are already pulling up the black fabric covering your way to nirvana desperately. The dress knots into a tangle around her waist and you spank each of her now exposed cheeks. Sohee lets out a yelp which soon turns into a moan. 

 “Gonna pound that phat ass of yours Sohee. Gonna breed you” You mutter like a madman before you thrust into her glistening folds. Surprisingly, the entrance is smooth and your whole length glides in easily. “Fuck” Sohee curses and you take it at a signal to start bucking your hips. There’s no need to start out slow, she’s already so wet that the rapid thrusts come out naturally. 

“Fuck fuck just like that. Pound my huge ass” Sohee begs and you smack those baby making hips of hers some more, marking it red. Her ass jiggles with each thrust; a view panoramic than any you have seen before. Her walls clench and squeezes, threatening to milk you dry and you are barely holding on the will not to end the experience early. But it’s getting increasingly difficult with how tight she’s getting each time you enter, gripping you like a snare until- 

“Fuck” You are emptying your balls into her deepest depths, the tightness still unyielding. Sohee’s back curves gracefully as she feels your fertile seed paint her walls white. You empty your last few drops with shallow thrust and pulls out of Sohee’s worn out pussy. A steady stream of white drips down to the bedsheets and Sohee pants, her body trembling. 

But you are not done yet, you are advancing to make use of her unused hole when- 

The whole world turns upside down and an empty glass, a half-finished report and the rays of sunlight greet your sight. 

“Oh shit” 

-----------[ Everglow E:U - @smuttysabina ]-------------

It wasn't about the money, really, it wasn't. EU was not serving as a cheap whore in a deserted playground for some noble goal of funding a comeback, or because her greed was greater than her morals; no, EU was spreading her legs for a few thousand won because she was an unrepentant pervert. Nothing aroused her more than have her nubile body used to satisfy the depraved lusts of whichever degenerate so happened to be walking by, there was little she would refuse to do. EU was as perfectly happy cleaning her filthy ass-juices off some preening socialite's cock, as she was getting squished by some fat slob as he pumps her pussy full of his goopy seed; so long as she was getting fucked, she didn't care. She had tried simply being free-use, but unless she ensconced herself in a gloryhole, men were too wary to accept free sex from a beautiful girl like her; even if they had no idea she was an idol. So now EU plays the pampered girl desperate for money, getting bent over in back alleys by the dregs of society, her petite body violated in every way imaginable until dawn, her well-trained holes defiled with rancid semen. On more than a few occasions her sordid gangbangs have lasted days, as she happily services every smelly cock in the area until all of them have been utterly drained by this perverse pixie. And the best part was, none of them knew that in a few hours she would be prancing on stage in front of thousands of adoring fans, her holes still clogged with turgid jizz; well, perhaps not none of her "clients"...

Like any man, your brain was hardwired to breed any available woman, so when you heard rumors of a gorgeous girl offering sex for a pittance in the old abandoned playground, you had hurried on over without delay. And it was a good thing that you had, since there was already quite the line by the time you arrived, with seemingly every gormless virgin and portly husband on the block gathered for this. With such a crowd, it took some time before your destination was revealed, and imagine your shock when you realized that the cheap escort you had come to fuck was none other than your beloved EU! She was your favorite, you had spend endless hours watching her fancams, she had disturbed your dreams for years now, and you had spent yourself for her more often than you could count. So to see EU now being spitroasted by sweaty men was nearly enough to make you pass out; you had imagined sex with her in many different ways, but never like this... You are forced to watch then, as your favorite idol is manhandled and used like a disposable fleshlight, your heart sinking further as every fresh degenerate takes their turn and mounts her tiny body. Depression grips as you trudge forward, watching EU getting every hole filled at the same time, watching her gorging upon buttery semen, watching her take the greasiest fat cocks and the tinniest members without distinction, watching her exclusive pussy getting polluted by inferior seed.

Tears are falling down your face by the time you reach EU, filled with despair from seeing your adorable bias being merrily violated by dirty scum; you had never been harder in your entire life. The idol notices that you recognize her, and can tell from your appearance what toxic stew of emotions must be roiling inside of your chest. With a serene smile EU undoes your pants, allowing your staggering erection to grace the air, before a nasty grin slashes across her cherub-like face; and she spreads her stained legs in welcome for you. Gazing upon her used pussy and soggy anus, you realize that you no longer cared that your favorite idol was a depraved pervert, because you had realized, you were one too. EU groans with delight as you join her in the filth from her previous couplings, as you fulfill your wildest dreams and fuck your perverse bias until your balls have been emptied.

EU relishes every moment of your corruption, after all, she wasn't doing this for the money, she was doing it to turn her fans into degenerate perverts to slake her own depraved lusts. And if she so happens to spend her hard-earned cash on a burger during the subway ride home, why, that was merely a happy coincidence...

-------[ BLACKPINK Rose - @passingnotions ]---------

“So these would be the terms and the amount of money and all that—” 

A message bubble appears next to her camera feed. Rosé resumes packing.

“This is triple my rate,” you state, unbelieving.

“Your profile reads exclusive.” Rosé approaches her phone again and takes up most of your screen. A lollipop rounds her cheek. “I’d like to ensure that.” 

“The regular amount is fine.” You scroll. It’s terms that read everything privacy and non-disclosure—the usual, though the wording seems overly eloquent. “You get a lawyer to draft this?”

“Duh.” She slides the bright red sweet over her tongue while gauging your reaction to the document. The thought of her needing to pay you for all this seems a little superfluous when the camera’s aimed at the back of her throat like that. “Your higher-ups do the same.”

“Right, but that’s a company.” You reach the very end, save a copy to sign and send back. “This is freelance.”

“I’m worth more than your company. Got more to lose.” She gets back to tackling her closet.

So, sure, Rosé as your independent, temporary employer and client: no corporate middleman; triple the usual; a week’s worth of your face between her legs—plus a finger or three—and making her ride the mattress springs with your cock pistoning inside her wet, sloppy cunt, ankles dangerously hooked up and over your shoulders where the angle feels like it might kill you both and then some, all before having that familiar throat wring you dry in some abroad, high-end hotel suite. Any other client and you wouldn’t even entertain the idea (read: glaring red flags). Rosé, however, is a regular—

“Hold on. What does it mean I can’t leave the room?”

Her voice is barely audible from where she stands off-screen. “You know how many people will surround the hotel just to get a picture of me or any other celebrity? Staff like their gossip and their coin. No, you can’t leave the room.”

You laugh. “I’m getting paid to get kidnapped.”

“Could tie you up, too.”

Virtual ink scribbles your signature on the dotted line and you mail back the file. “You only get the wrists.”

“I know,” she says, tossing a cluster of outfits into the carry-on. 

You hear the brittle lollipop crunch when Rosé approaches the camera again—pretty navel framed by a blue baby tee above, gray sweatpants below. There’s an abrupt shake to the image as she grabs the phone and throws herself onto her queen-size. Subtle waves of blonde fan over the pillow, the mess of clothes. She bites that last bit of candy and discards the stick on her nightstand. 

“You get the email?” You ask.

“Yeah.” A lull. You would’ve ended the call a minute or two earlier, after getting the details in order, but Rosé is not someone you hang up on. And that’s not simply due to contractual obligations. “Any client I should be getting jealous of tonight?”

“It’s against company policy for me to tell you this, but you might be getting too attached.”

“No therapy addons for tonight, please.”

“Just the extra time?” You smile.

She sits up to rest against the headboard. “So you aren’t seeing anyone tonight then.” 

“I do have to get up earlier than usual tomorrow—”

Your phone vibrates and an hour’s worth of pay displays on the banner. It’s superfluous, really, with the way that tight top begins to peel off her figure.

“Just the extra time.”

----------[ ITZY Chaeryeong - @chunksworld]----------

“My name is Serena and you will follow my rules tonight, do I make myself clear?”

It’s wrong. Everything about it is wrong. You have a loving girlfriend that you go home to every night and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You just had an argument with her, that is all—something about how you don’t take her out on dates anymore and that even worse, you don’t love her anymore. You vehemently denied her allegations, so why in the world did you decide to take up your friend’s offer to hire an escort? 

Maybe she is right, maybe you are starting to lose feelings for her. Well it does not matter because you already clearly knew the answer when you specifically requested that the escort make you “forget everything” for tonight. I mean, what faithful boyfriend would do that? And why are you worrying about those things now?

You’ve already wasted a paycheck booking this woman for the night, much more so when she requested that you conduct your business in a five-star hotel. Sure, you might have to survive on bland packets of ramen in the meantime but that’s how you survived college anyways. The only thing occupying your mind is how good everything feels when you are deprived of your eyesight. 

It’s true what they say about your other senses heightening because you can feel her hot breath lingering on your neck, her perky tits pressing down on your toned chest as she torturously rides you at a snail’s pace, and her thighs grinding against yours with every movement of her hips. “Shit, Serena. C-Can you go a bit faster?”

The stinging pain of a hand striking your face is the response you got. Right. It’s her rules that you need to follow. Maybe you shouldn’t have given her as much freedom, it’s you that’s paying her bills after all. But that point is moot when she has somehow sunk herself deeper onto your cock and you are gripping the satin sheets with how tight she is, as if she doesn’t do this for a living. 

You fight the urge not to thrust up into her, to just hold on to her waist and go balls deep. You haven’t had sex with your girlfriend in weeks because of how busy you two are and you could use an orgasm or two to let everything loose. But everything about her pussy is inviting and it’s only thirty minutes and you can already feel your cock throbbing. 

She senses this as well because her lips have now moved down to your shoulders and she’s leaving kisses there while a hand reaches down to your balls to fondle it. It’s really becoming hard to breathe, with how her entire body is completely pressed up against you and with how suffocating her pussy is. “Cum for me.” And you do. You are surprised to hear her speak again and the timbre in her voice and the overwhelming sensation of everything causes you to shoot your semen deep inside her. 

She doesn’t stop riding you even as you are barely coming down from your high. Seconds turn into minutes and everything becomes a blur. Round after round of Serena riding you to completion, making you shoot more cum even if there wasn’t any more space left in her womb. Even when you can feel your load dripping back down your cock and balls, she continues to ride you and not at a single point did you even consider what your girlfriend would say if she caught you. Everything is a fucking mess, including your life.

There is a brief moment of solace when she mercifully removes the blindfold, finally. It takes you a couple of minutes to get used to the bright lighting and the first thing that greets you is the perfectly sculpted body of Serena, and the big mess you two have left on the satin sheets with your cum and her juices. Your eyes travel upward, studying every feature of the woman that has drained you and the way her pale white skin glisten with her sweat. 

From her defined abs, to her tiny breasts you wish you have gotten a taste of, her broad shoulders, and finally you get a glimpse of her face. Wait, why does she look familiar? That smile that can light up a room, the way her eyes and nose crinkle as such, the way she brushes her hair back and—why the fuck is she winking at you? She looks a mighty lot like your girlfriend and you think you’re hallucinating. It might have taken a few seconds but everything hits you at once and panic immediately strikes down on you like lightning.

Fuck. That’s your girlfriend’s sister.

“Chaery—“

She places a kiss on your lips to keep your mouth shut and the sudden revelation horrifies and turns you on at the same time. You need to make a decision and you need to make it quick because otherwise your cock is doing it already for you with how quickly her cum-filled pussy rides you back to full erection, with your creampie overflowing between the gaps where your bodies meet. It is hard to formulate a thought when her tongue is sticking deeper down your throat. Screw everything. You wrap your arms around her waist possessively when you sit up to meet her at eye level, deepening the kiss to turn it into a proper makeout session. “Chaeyeon unnie doesn’t have to know, oppa.” Damn right, she doesn’t. You dive in to kiss her again, the risk and debauchery making you want to savor everything even more. 

“Plus, we have six hours left and there’s two more holes you still need to fill. You gotta get your money’s worth, right?”

Damn right, you do.

----------[ BINI Aiah - @octoberautumnbox ]------------

It came easier than most with him, she could even say it came easy, period. His gaze was always soft, his touch always gentle, his tone always sweet when it came to her. Of course, she only knew the him that texts her every first Friday at 5:30 p.m. asking if she's busy that night. And she never is, or always is, because first Friday nights are blocked off by default for her favorite patron. 

It was a broken record that she never tired of: she dresses pretty, he picks her up, they get dinner and drinks, and he takes her back to his place. He and Aiah are so used to it at this point that he keeps telling her to stop dressing too nice but she just can't help it, she has to look good for him!

~~~

It's the most predictable thing in the world, hopping into his car and letting him rub her inner thigh as he drives. It's absolutely no surprise when he orders the steak for himself and the large poutine for the both of them to share. It's the normalest occurrence when the violin guy hovers over their table with a heart-wrenchingly beautiful melody as he admires her eyes over the candlelight. And it sure as hell isn't anything special when she offers his left arm to cling to as they walk back to his car, so much so that the wine he holds with his right arm makes its way to Aiah's instead. 

“Nice, 2020?” She looks over the label, finding a pinot noir brand she couldn't recognize. “Get me drunk, pass time with me, throw me away when you’re done. I know your type exactly,” she teases.

“When did I throw you away? I feed you good food, nothing but love in my bed, I get you home safe every week,” he retorts with a chuckle, counting each one on his fingers. He opens the door for her, and she plants a sweet peck on his lips before settling elegantly back into the car.

~~~

It's all the same game to her, yet she can't deny it's exhilarating every time. Her grip is tight around his back and shoulders, her pedicured nails digging into his skin as he parts her pussy lips apart for him. She moans sweetly, “Fuck, more, please…” as he diligently fulfills each of her prior requests. He does everything she asks of him: in front of the mirror, against the wall, in the bathtub, but Aiah's favorite and the one that absolutely has to end each night, bareback missionary on his fluffy bed while she holds him close to kiss, to hug, to whisper her sweet nothings into his ear. 

“You’re so fucking good, Aiah, I’ll never get tired of you,” he says back, and he kisses her neck gently, driving her wild. 

It's all the same game to her, and it's so easy to predict: the neck kisses come when he's close. She feels him throbbing inside her as he pounds her into the mattress, he's going faster, deeper, and she fires a prayer up to whom it may concern that he goes rougher and rougher still, until–

“Fuck, fuck, FUUUUCKKKKK!!!” she screams loud, giving herself up in service to his pleasure. He erupts in between her velvet walls, shooting his thick and warm seed into her womb, all the while her pussy milks him for everything he's got. He shuts her up with his lips on hers, and Aiah can't help but return his love; she takes his head in her hands, locking him in her embrace. 

And once it's all over, he falls to her side to let her breathe. An arm underneath her head, a cursory “good night,” and all the warmth of the world in him are all it takes to rob her of her consciousness. As the world fades around her, he pulls her close to his chest, and the last thing she remembers, like always, is the aroma of his sweat evidencing his satisfaction with her services. 

~~~

Albeit a bit wobbly, she's able to make her way downstairs. Like clockwork, there he is, finishing up a congee and packing it safely for the car, and she makes her way to the sofa and rubs the sleep out her eyes. She wants to say something, but holds back. Her lips form the shape for the first word, but no air comes out. She repeats in her head again and again, “Can we stay a bit?” knowing the answer, so she never tries. Why go against the program? Why ruin such a good thing? 

~~~

She takes a careful bite of the hardboiled egg, and noticeably he slows down before the speed bump at the entrance to her subdivision. In no time at all they arrive outside her house, and Aiah sets her dirty dishes on the dashboard in front of her. 

“Take care,” she whispers, avoiding his eyes. The usual white envelope falls onto her lap, and it breaks her again. She hears his seatbelt unclasp and fly back taut, but without giving him a chance, she undoes her own seatbelt and pushes her door open, leaving him behind. She runs back to her privacy, swinging open the door and shutting it hard. Aiah holds her breath, before finally letting go when his engine roars to life and grows progressively quieter the farther away he gets. 

Finally, the tears fall. She buries her face in her hands and screams a world-ending scream, then composes herself while she wipes the liquid pain from her eyes. She opens the envelope: fifteen blue bills and a blister pack of her usual birth control. The sight rips her chest apart, and the envelope and its contents are thrown to scatter all over her foyer. Aiah crumples into a fetal position and tumbles to her side, hugging her knees and wallowing in the dread of missing him not even five minutes after they part for another month. 

-------------[ Kwon Eunbi - @rosiesmuts ]---------------

Water Bomb. The festival that revitalized Eunbi's career. Sure it meant getting on stage wearing a bikini top while pretending she couldn't feel everyone's eyes on her tits, but it was worth it for the chance to be seen and heard.

It shot up her fame, gaining her hundreds of thousands of followers and even fielded numerous phone calls and offers. In public, she said she rejected every single one of those guys, when in reality, Water Bomb increased her side gig to unforeseen heights.

In person, Eunbi's way shorter than she appears on TV, barely reaching up to your chest. But, you remind yourself that she's the real deal: her little bikini accentuates her thick curves like a lewd fashion statement; her tits are so round they push back against the thin fabric, and you could almost imagine her nipples pebbling just from you staring.

"There's only one rule..." Eunbi pushes you down on the couch and settles in-between your legs. You groan out when she kneads the tent in your pants with a smug smirk on her face. "...It never goes inside of me..." She frees your cock, wrapping a hand around it and pumping her hand from root to tip, rolling her thumb over the leaking head. "...Just between my tits."

Shit. That's a pretty massive rule for what amounts to your weekly salary. It sounds unfair, and it sort of is. But that's the kinda thing you have to expect when you're with an idol, a walking, talking brand.

Any kind of protest get lost on the tip of your tongue when Eunbi lowers a strap, freeing her breast to the open air, and fuck—her tit is bigger than you imagined, so thick and round and squeezable, topped off by the dark peak of her puffy areola and her stiff nub of a nipple.

"You can touch before I begin..." She grabs your hand and plants it atop her pillowy breast. You can't hold back. The fat fills your hand, overflowing in your palm when you squeeze. The firm yet supple skin is fucking heavenly. There's a halfway sound mixed of a giggle and a moan, and when you look up, Eunbi stares back at you with lust darkened eyes. "Excited aren't we? There's another one too, you know? Feel free to set it free yourself."

You brush the strap aside and Eunbi's top slips over her second breast and off her body, falling down to the floor along with your inhibitions.

For the low, low price of 40 hours of work, Eunbi isn't an unapproachable, untouchable, perfect entity on-screen. With her tits exposed, all natural and bouncing just slightly whenever she moves, there's something intimately real about the way she lets out breathy quiet moans as you massage her breasts in tandem, thumbs circling her pointed nubs.

"Careful... They're sensitive." Her chest juts towards you with every pass of your hand, and you're having the time of your life watching this behemoth of an idol turn into a whimpering wreck. Your gaze naturally strays from her chest to the subtle ripple of her belly and the sakura print triangle of her bikini bottoms.

Eunbi holds up a bottle of liquid and squirts out a decent amount, drooling down her tits and onto your cock. You hiss out, twitching up from the chill, and then moan out when Eunbi runs her dainty fingers over your length, spreading the viscous liquid all over until her palms grip onto your throbbing member.

"Shall we begin? I'm curious to see your expression..." She scooches closer, breasts jiggling against the inside of your thighs and her hands slipping off the sides of her chest, pushing her boobs together, around your pulsing dick.

Her plump flesh surrounds you on either side of your shaft, her breasts massaging your hardness. The lube makes it so hot and slippery, you can almost imagine it's her soft pussy instead. She interlocks her fingers and starts to bounce the soft pliable flesh up and down, the liquid squelching out.

"Ahh~ What a lusty expression..." Eunbi sees the look of euphoria written plain across your face. There's never been anything like the sheer softness, the overwhelming sensation of this world-renowned idol jerking you off with her heavenly tits.

As much as you want to close your eyes and fall in-tune with her movements, the sight of her breasts wrapped around you forces you to continue to stare.

Then something unexpected comes into play. Eunbi pauses her movement on a downward motion. You groan, missing the hot pleasure that just sent you to cloud 9. Until suddenly her cute little peaks out and gives the tip a lick.

'It never goes inside of me...'

The one and only rule re-enters your mind. Then the mischievous sparkle in her eyes leaves you with one conclusion.

"Technically licking it doesn't count... Right?~" Her tongue once again peeks out and wets your engorged, blushing head, the warm and wet, gentle touch shooting pleasure through you. It only lasts a moment until she starts sliding up and down your shaft once more, adding her cute licks as the icing on top.

This must be heaven. This must be what going to heaven is like—having the Eunbi jerking you off with her thick, soft tits and having her pink tongue pepper your cock with gentle kitten licks.

"Ah—!" she gives you a surprised little yelp when the pre-cum bubbles up from the slit of your dick, the salty liquid instantly greeted by the flat of her tongue.

'It never goes inside of me...'

That was the only preamble. The only thing forbidden by the deal. Her lips come dangerously close, puckering open and—

Eunbi is a fucking liar. She wraps her lips around the head and sucks, tongue swirling and lips pursed tight against your swollen cock. You grunt out a curse at the sudden change in temperature, hot and wet. In an instant, you lose yourself, cumming in spurts in her warm mouth, painting her tongue white.

"Mmmph!" She feigns shock and panic, closing her eyes tight and sucking on you in earnest. All the while she maintains her tits wrapped around the bottom of your shaft, squeezing up to catch the last remnants of your release.

With her lips still wrapped around the head, she swallows—you hear and feel the distinct gulp.

Eunbi pushes her bangs back as she finally pulls off your softening, limp shaft. Her hand wanders to her jaw, wiping away any leftover bit that spilled out her lips.

"Oops~ look like I broke my own rule..." she hums, playfulness and mock innocence threading together in her tone.

'It never goes inside of me...'

Bullshit.

---------[ (G)I-DLE Minnie - @svndaysaweek ]----------

Once in for all. You head to the bar you’re regular at. Everytime you tip a glass there, you experience a weird dream and when you wake up you’re in your bed, no memories of how you even made it there.

It’s happened several times already. To the point where you start to doubt if it really is a dream.

A charming bartender, nice drinks, and the addictive dream-like scenes you fragmentarily see like a deja-vu. 

There are different versions of it, but all follow the same sequence: sit down, empty a glass or two, a little chirpy chit chat with the bartender and the very next blink she’s riding you in a frantic manner.

What haunts you the most is that you lose old memories too. The damage is disturbing, since even at work you don’t remember major events that happened. You really should stop drinking, and you're aware of it more than anyone. 

You can’t explain, but you feel like you should just go there again. It’s an addiction, maybe. You know you should stop, but you don’t.

******

The door swings open with the little bells on it quirkily ringing. It’s a dim bar, with the calm noise of people talking and laughing with clinking sounds. Over the counter she’s wiping glasses, not in a tuxedo but in a white sleeveless shirt, long blonde hair over a shoulder and a pair of orbs in her eyes with the aura that a quartz gemstone would exude.

Hot, but not red-hot. Erotic, but not foul.

The very eyes in your dreams that you made roll back.

“Hi, long time! The usual?” Minnie’s grin blooms quickly as if she’s been waiting for you. Then she fixes it the next second, recognizing how unusual it is for a bartender to be as turgidly excited as her.

“I’d love to.” With a bite on her lip she turns around, takes a bottle of whiskey. Then enters a room in the back for a glass.

Your hand automatically takes your phone out of the pocket. You see a message from an unknown number saying ‘Hey we need to talk’, but before you can check Minnie returns with the glass and serves it to you.

“Are you shifting soon? Never seen you in that shirt before,” A sip, and another. “Ah, this? How do I look?”

Gorgeous!

Gorge-

Gor-

…

******

“Yeah, that’s it…” Minnie’s hands are planted on your chest while her hips are senselessly grinding on your cock. The pace skyrockets and her nails dig into you deeper and deeper.

But dangerously you don’t feel the pain. You can only feel how tight she’s squeezing your cock, how sweaty her thighs are, how hot her breath is and how good she’s fucking you.

“Fuck, it gets better everytime… How can I stop fucking you like this…” Her hands are now in her hair, arms open and messing her own hair a bit. 

She squeezes her own breasts before slightly choking you with both hands. You try to reach for her hands, which are cuffed to the bed. Minnie seems to enjoy the surprised look on your face, as her face descends to be just above yours with a pearly giggle.

“Bet Miyeon is all too vanilla to do this stuff to you in bed,” She whispers it right at your left ear before nibbling on it, making you flinch a bit.

“Miyeon? Who is-“

“Never mind, boy. I have only you and you—oh, god I’m close—have only me.” Minnie’s teeth leave a deep mark on your under lip. Her glance is now beyond enrapturing. It’s a poignant hypnosis with a tinge of coercion. 

Only when she cums and squirts on your cock with a rather lunatic moan is the bewitching scrutiny alleviated. The sound of heavy breaths and the tickle of her fingers stroking on your chest is all that you can sense.

And you’re sprawled on the bed, exhausted, with your consciousness fading out. “I have only you, Minnie” is what you lethargically repeat until all becomes dark.

******

You have no idea how you ended up on your bed. Again. The last place you remember you were at last night was the bar. 

Was it the whiskey after all? 

Before you could even get out of your bed a headache swirls inside your head.

I had intense sex with Minnie again in the dream again.

She mentioned someone.

I received a text from someone who wanted to talk with me.

What could all this mean?

All of a sudden, a loud knock on the door shakes you awake from your thoughts. 

“Who’s there?” You shout, and you hear a frustrated, urgent female voice.

“Honey, it’s me! Please open the door and let’s talk!” On the other side of the door there’s a woman standing. Anxious, upset and unfamiliar.

“Do I know you?” It’s a genuine question, because you don’t recognize her at all. “Honey, this is not funny. At all. Why the hell have you been ignoring all my-” The girl tries to grab your hand which you swiftly evade.

“Sorry, but what are you talking about?” 

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple.

“Babe!” Down the hallway is Minnie. You are so confused by her calling you that, but it must’ve been the drink. Should’ve drunk less.

“Babe?! Excuse me, but do you know him? Honey, do you know her?” Miyeon looks shocked, terrified, even. “I do. Why are you asking me that? Who are you?”

Disbelief shades her face. “H-honey… What are you talking about? I’m your fiancé! I’m Miyeon, don't you remember?” At the same time there’s a victorious grin on Minnie’s face. 

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple. Then all senses fuzz out.

******

“Don’t go too fast, Miyeon! It’s dangerous!” You’re on a bicycle following her, on a riverside road with cherry blossoms fluttering along the breeze. She briefly looks back at you, and the way her hair streams in the wind takes your breath. “You’re saying that because you can’t pass me!” She smiles playfully and speeds up ahead.

“What are you listening to?” She takes one of your earphones after sitting down next to you on the bench. “Just some classics. Autumn is a season of classics for me.” You turn your head in her direction and are stunned at how her look matches the color of the trees and sky ever so perfectly. She can only chuckle at your face.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, yes!” You’re down on one knee, putting a ring on her finger. She’s shedding tears with the happiest smile. “I love you, Miyeon.” You rise and hug her. Your hands are still shaking. Her shoulders shake from her crying.

“I love you too. I have only you. And you have only me.”

******

-------------[ WJSN Bona - @fiorituramara ]-------------

The elevator ride took forever, enough for you to think you were getting up to the heavens (maybe you were); or at least, enough for you to start focusing on the garish marbles inside of the booth finely sculpted with golden inscriptions of the hotel’s logo—you never were particularly interested in interior design especially the pompous branch of it. 

You wouldn’t say you were used to all of this—the high-end hotel with all its lush finishes, the highly competent personnel following you around for every little inconvenience, it was all a bit too much, even if it certainly wasn’t your first time in the midst of all this luxury. 

After all, your business model as a professional companion thrived on the lonesomeness of the wealthiest. Business women, successful lawyers, rich heiresses; all of them had similar needs and you were ready to profit on them by selling your version of love: an illusion.

But this time was different and you knew it, just by feeling. 

Kim Jiyeon wasn’t like any other customer you had before—she was an award-winning actress, a model and an idol. But Jiyeon wasn’t just wealthy, she was absolutely breathtaking, a rare beauty worthy of praise from fashion brands and magazines.

As soon as you walked through the suit’s door a sly smile welcomed you in the warmest way “I hope the reception didn’t make you wait for too long,”

You smiled back, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss Jiyeon”

Here she was across the room, sitting on a modish sofa, legs crossed dully waiting for your arrival. She wasn’t wearing anything particularly elaborate: an ashen tailleur leaning on a striped shirt, and a colorful skirt that did quite the poor job at covering her slender legs. A simple fit yet effective at emphasizing her striking beauty. 

“Have a seat, please. Get comfortable,” she said as you happily complied, joining her.

“Wine?”

You nodded thanking the steward as he tinged a chalice in red.

As you sipped on your drink Jiyeon handed you some documents from an agenda

“Formalities, you know” she downplayed it, of course “I just need your sign.”

You quickly scanned the papers in front of you, faking interest. Legal stuff, stamps, authorizations and permits. It was a detailed NDA warding your customer in every possible way, nothing unusual when dealing with well-known personalities, something you knew you would have need to sign.

“I just have one question, a little curiosity of mine” you said, as the pen in your hands swiftly traced the initials of your name sealing the contract. “Why? Why would someone like you even look for my services?”

A sly smile painted on Jiyeon’s face, as if she knew you would’ve asked something similar.

She took your hand in hers, it was warm and soft, and guided it towards her thigh.

“The easy answer would be that I lack the material time,” you listened carefully to every word of her speech as your hand wandered forward, daringly massaging her smooth skin “just getting to know someone is a serious commitment,” 

“I can’t afford to waste occasions with the wrong person with the little time I have for myself,” she continued. Were you moving a little too fast? Maybe. Ten minutes since you met her and you were already with a hand on her thighs and she looked like she didn't mind.

“But if i’m being honest, there’s more to it” as she said that her hand moved to the top of your shirt, slowly undoing a couple buttons, “I’m tired, tired of being what people want me to be, I’m tired of pretending I’m perfect when I’m not. I wanna be flawed.” you dared even more, your fingers traced a ticklish spot on her inner thigh eliciting a whimper. Her hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in place.

 “I wanna be me.” She looked right into your eyes as she said that, more serious than ever.

Then she got up, right in front of you, raised her legs to discard her boots before climbing directly on top of you.

You let her go on with her act, too stunned to speak up, as she continued with her answer. “Why you, you say? I need professionalism, I need discretion,” 

She pulled on the collar of your shirt and whispered in your ear “but more than everything, I need a good fuck, and I need it now.”

The hot breath on your skin elicited a shiver in your back. “Does this satisfy your little curiosity?”

There wasn’t really a need to answer that.

 You seized her cheeks, leaned in and locked lips. You were dreaming about kissing those pretty full lips the moment you entered the room and now it felt heavenly. You could taste the sweetness on her tongue, as she explored your mouth and you explored hers, a hint of wine still lingering around intoxicating you even more.  Your hands instinctively moved to her back, helping her slipping her now impractical jacket to the floor in anticipation of something more.

Only the need for air was able to break the kiss.

“Dazzle me.” she whispered.

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is shocked by your immunity to being tased.

I received an ask from an anon for this story. Unfortunately, either Tumblr ate it, or I accidentally deleted it; I can’t be sure because I trust neither of us. Gladly, I remember the gist of it. I hope that anon sees it. (Sorry, anon, and thank you for the ask.)

———————————————————————

You push open the workshop door, and notice a curated display of taser gear spread across the table for today’s training session. Ghost, your lieutenant and trainer for the day, occupies a corner, busy with extracting all sorts of stuff—taser guns, pulses, stun batons—from bags and placing them on the table. He catches the sound of your entrance and turns halfway to face you.

“You’re early,” he mutters under his breath.

“I just couldn’t wait, Lieutenant,” you reply sarcastically.

He huffs. “We’ll see about that once training’s over.”

You approach the table, and look at the equipment. You reach out and grasp a taser gun. It looks exactly like a pistol but bulkier and has yellow elements to distinguish it from firearms.

“Could you please remind me how this baby works?” you ask.

He turns his entire body towards you and contemplates your question. Although the training session is just half an hour away, and he doesn’t technically need to explain anything, you’re his weak spot. So he leaves the gear in the bag, walks towards you, and begins to give you a detailed explanation.

It almost feels like a private session, but you have ulterior motives—you’ve already been through a similar class in the past and are eager to skip this one. Despite your repeated attempts to convey this to Ghost, he remained adamant that this course would be a refresher for you and, thus, necessary.

“Once you have a clear shot, you press the trigger.” He concludes.

“Like this?” you ask, directing the taser towards your right foot and squeezing the trigger. It stings, but your previous training has taught you how to get used to the feeling and handle the pain better. Or at least make it look that way.

Your poor lieutenant stands speechless as he looks at the now-fired taser gun. He slowly looks down, where his shocked eyes trace the two wires extending from the device, connecting to your foot.

“What the fuck did you do?” he shouts, gesturing towards your leg.

“Jeez, Lt., you seem stunned,” you comment.

“Are you having a laugh, soldier?” He scolds you with as much authority as he has left from what he just experienced. He drops to the ground, working to remove the wires from your foot. He stands up, alternating his gaze between the device and your leg. Finally, he turns to you.

“How come you’re not in pain?” he asks, confused.

You shrug, unaffected, and pick up another taser from the table. “Maybe the first one was defective; let’s give this one a go,” you suggest, aiming at your other foot and firing.

“Are you out of your mind, Y/N?” he screams in a high-pitched voice and kneels again to retrieve the second taser from your foot.

“Come on, Lt., it’s not as bad as it seems!” You reassure him with a grin, seizing a third taser from the table. This time, you point it at Ghost’s leg. “Wanna see?”

He lifts his knee and gathers his arms close to his body. He looks like a pitcher, ready to throw the ball in a baseball match.

“No, no, thank you very much”, he protests.

“Sure?” You ask and aim at his other leg on the ground.

“Absolutely certain, you maniac,” he says, switching legs. “How far are you willing to go to skip this class?!”

“Not too far,” you reply with a smile, “as far as these two wires go when they get propelled from the taser gun.”

“Cut it out!”

To his relief, the rest of the team enters the room, and Ghost instantly transitions into his authoritative persona. He places both feet on the ground, protrudes his chest, and places both hands on his waist. He clears his throat.

“Take your positions, everyone,” he commands, “everyone except for you, Y/N.”

“Why am I excluded, Lieutenant?” you ask with a pout and a playful wink. “Is it because I’m unfazed?”

“Nah, soldier,” he replies and walks behind you to tidy the wires from the already-shot taser guns, “it’s because you’re a live wire—always keeping me on my toes.”

———————————————————————

[anim-ttrpgs]

Help Save the World of TTRPGs and Their Creators.

Okay I’m being a little dramatic, but at the same time I’m pretty serious. This is a call to action, and the livelihoods of myself and lots of other people, many of them (like myself) disabled, are depending on it. This is a post about why, what you can do about it, and (perhaps least often answered) how.

This post is actually an accompaniment to another discussion by someone else. If you don’t want to listen to a 90-minute in-depth discussion of much of what I’m about to tell you, you can just keep reading. Otherwise, click here or here and listen to this either before or after you read this post. (They’re the same thing, just different sources.)

If you have ever made or reblogged posts urging people to switch from Google Chrome to Firefox, you should be willing to at least give a try to other TTRPGs besides D&D5e for much the same principle reasons. I’m not telling you you have to hate D&D5e, and I’m not telling you you have to quit D&D5e, I’m just asking you to try some other games. If you don’t like them, and you really want to go back to D&D5e, then go back to D&D5e. But how can you really know you won’t like other games if you have literally never tried them? This post is a post about why and how to try them. If you’re thinking right now that you don’t want to try them, I urge you to look below to see if any of your reasons for not wanting to try them are covered there. Because the monopoly that WotC’s D&D5e has on TTRPGs as a whole is bad for me as a game designer, and it’s bad for you as a game player. It’s even bad for you if you like D&D5e. A fuller discussion of the why and how this is the case can be found in the links above, but it isn’t fully necessary for understanding this post, it’ll just give you a better perspective on it.

If you’re a D&D5e player, I’m sure at some point or another, you’ve been told “play a different game”, and it must get frustrating without the context of why and how. This post is here to give you the why and how.

[The following paragraph has been edited because the original wording made it sound like we think all weird TTRPGs suck.]

Before that though, one more thing to get out of the way. I'm going to level with you. There’s a lot of weird games out there.

You are gonna see a lot of weird TTRPGs when you take the plunge. Many of them try to completely reinvent what a TTRPG even is, and some fail spectacularly, others really do even up doing something very interesting even if they don't end up being what a core TTRPG player wants. But not every indie RPG is a Bladefish, lots and lots of them are more 'traditional' and will feel very familiar to you, I promise. (And you might even find that you like the weird experimental bladefish type ones, these are usually ideal for one-session plays when your usual group can't play your usual game for any reason.)

You're also going to probably see a lot of very bad games, and man have I got some stories of very bad games, but for now I'm just saying to make sure you read the reviews, or go through curators (several of which will be listed below), before you buy.

Now that that is out of the way, I’m going to go down a list of concerns you may have for why not, and then explain the how.

“I don’t want to learn a whole new set of rules after I already spent so much time learning D&D5e.”

Learning a new set of rules is not going to be as hard as you think. Most other TTRPGs aren’t like that. D&D5e is far on the high end of the scale for TTRPGs being hard and time-consuming to learn and play. If you’ve only played D&D5e, it might trick you into thinking that learning any TTRPG is an overwhelmingly time-consuming task, but this is really mostly a D&D5e problem, not a TTRPG problem as a whole.

“D&D5e has all of these extra online tools to help you play it.”

So what? People have been playing TTRPGs without the help of computers for 50 years. To play a well-designed TTRPG you won’t need a computer. Yes, even if you're bad at math. There are some TTRPGs out there that barely even use math.

“I’m too invested in the narrative and characters of my group’s current ongoing D&D5e campaign to switch to something else.”

There are other games, with better design made by better people for less money, that are the same kind of game as D&D5e, that your current characters, lore, and plot will fit right into and do it better. And no, it's not just Pathfinder, there's others.

“I can’t afford to play another TTRPG.”

You probably can. If you’ve only played D&D5e, you might have been made to think that TTRPGs are a very expensive hobby. They aren’t. D&D5e is actually uniquely expensive, costing more than 3x more than the next most expensive TTRPG I can think of right now. Even on the more expensive end, other TTRPG books will cost you no more than $60, most will cost you less than $20, and a whole lot of them are just free. If you somehow still can’t afford another TTRPG, come to the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book club mentioned below, nominate the game, and if it wins the vote we will straight up buy it for you.

(By the way, if you had any of the above concerns about trying other games besides D&D5e, that really makes it sound like you are in a textbook abusive relationship with D&D5e. This is how abusers control their partners, and how empires control their citizens, by teaching you to think that nothing could ever get any better, and even though they treat you bad, the Other will treat you even worse.)

“If I don’t play D&D5e, which TTRPG should I play?”

That’s a pretty limited question to be asking, because there will be no one TTRPG for everything. And no, D&D5e is not the one TTRPG for everything, Hasbro’s marketing team is just lying to you. (Pathfinder and PbtA are not the one system for everything either!) Do you only play one video game or only watch one movie or only read one book? When you finish watching an action movie like Mad Max, and then you want to watch a horror movie, do you just rewind Mad Max and watch it over again but this time you act scared the whole time? No, you watch a different movie. I’m asking you to give the artistic medium of TTRPGs the same respect you would give movies.

“I want to play something besides D&D5e, but my friends won’t play anything else!”

I have several answers to this.

Try showing them this post.

If that doesn’t work: Make them. Put your foot down. This works especially well if you are the DM. Tell them you won’t run another session of D&D5e until they agree to give what you want to do at least one try instead of always doing only what they want to do. This is, like, playing 101. We learned this in kindergarten. If your friend really wants to play something else, you should give their game a try, or you’re not really being a very good friend.

If that doesn’t work, find another group. This doesn’t even mean that you have to leave your existing group. A good place to start would be the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club which will be mentioned and linked below. You can also go to the subreddit of any game you’re interested in and probably meet people there who have the same problem you do and want to put together a group to play something other than D&D5e. You might get along great with these people, you might not, but you won’t know until you try. Just make sure to have a robust “session zero” so everyone is on the same page. This is a good practice for any group but it is especially important for a group made of players you’ve just met.

“I only watch actual plays.”

Then watch actual plays of games that aren’t D&D5e. These podcasts struggle for the same reasons that indie RPGs struggle, because of the brand recognition and brand loyalty D&D5e has, despite their merit. I don’t watch actual plays, or else I would be able to list more of them. So, anyone who does watch actual plays, please help me out by commenting on this post with some non-D&D5e actual plays you like. And please do me a favor and don’t list actual plays that only play one non-D&D5e system, list ones that go through a variety of systems. The first one I can think of is Tiny Table.

“I can just homebrew away all the problems with D&D5e.”

Even though I want to, I’m not going to try and argue that you can’t actually homebrew away all the problems with D&D5e. Instead, I’m going to ask you why you’re buying two $50 rulebooks just to throw away half the pages. In most other good RPGs, you don’t need to change the rules to make them fun, they’re fun right out the box.

“But homebrewing D&D5e into any kind of game is fun! You can homebrew anything out of D&D5e!”

Firstly, I promise that this is not unique to D&D5e. Secondly, then you would probably have more fun homebrewing a system that gives you a better starting point for reaching your goal. Also, what if I told you that there are entire RPG systems out there that are made just for this? There are RPG systems that were designed for the purpose of being a toolbox and set of materials for you to work with to make exactly the game you want to make. Some examples are GURPS, Savage Worlds, Basic RolePlaying, Caltrop Core, and (as much as I loathe it) PbtA.

“I’m not supporting WotC’s monopoly because I pirate all the D&D5e books.”

Then you’re still not supporting the smaller developers that this monopoly is crushing, either.

Now, here’s the how. Because I promise you, there’s not just one, but probably a dozen other RPGs out there that will scratch your exact itch.

Here’s how to find them. This won’t be a comprehensive list because I’ve already been typing this for like 3 hours already. Those reading this, please go ahead and comment more to help fill out the list.

First, I’m gonna plug one of my own major projects, because it’s my post. The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club. It’s a discord server that treats playing TTRPGs like a book club, with the goal of introducing members to a wide variety of games other than D&D5e. RPGs are nominated by members, then we hold a vote to decide what to read and play for a short campaign, then we repeat. There is no financial, time, or schedule investment required to join this book club, I promise it is very schedule-friendly, because we assign people to different groups based of schedule compatibility. You don’t have to play each campaign, or any campaign, you can just read along and participate in discussion that way. And if you can’t afford to buy the rulebook we’re going to be reading, we will make sure you get a PDF of it for free. That is how committed we are to getting non-D&D5e RPGs into people’s hands. Here is an invite link.

Next, there are quite a few tumblr blogs you can follow to get recommendations shown to you frequently.

@indierpgnewsletter

@indie-ttrpg-of-the-day

@theresattrpgforthat

@haveyouplayedthisttrpg

@indiepressrevolution

Plenty of podcasts, journalists, and youtubers out there do in-depth discussions of different systems regularly, a couple I can think of off the top of my head are:

Storyteller Conclave (I’m actually going to be interviewed live on this show on April 10th!)

Seth Skorkowsky

Questing Beast

The Gaming Table

Rascal News

Lastly, you can just go looking. Browse r/rpg, drivethrurpg.com, indie press revolution, and itch.io.

Now, if you really want to support me and my team specifically Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, our debut TTRPG, is going to launch on Kickstarter on April 10th and we need all the help we can get. Set a reminder from the Kickstarter page through this link.

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, there’s plenty of ways to get one!

Subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

Donate to our ko-fi and send us an email with proof that you did, and we’ll email you back with the full Eureka prerelease package with the most updated version at the time of responding! (The email address can be found if you scroll down to the bottom of our website.)

We also have merchanise.

[iwaasfairy]

kenma IS a twink. but hes my twink <333

anywayss love the idea, fairyyyyy. i adore your juicy big brain

tw incest, voyeurism, dubcon, virg!kuroo can’t catch a fucking break I wanna keep writing this but it’ll have to be in a different ask

wc. 1.9k

kozume kenma x fem!reader x kuroo tetsuro

“It’s really not a big deal,” Kenma assures him again as he forces his normally blank face to show an ounce of understanding, something like a smile painted on his lips. “She won’t mind.” His long, slender fingers wrap around the door handle to push down without knocking — shoving the door to swing wide with a clean arc and reveal the slightly messy, but clean, fresh room. It isn’t obvious upon first glance that a girl lives here. At least not in the overtly girly way, a far cry from all the frilly, pink overly curated rooms he imagined being invited into when he was a teen boy in the midsts of high school.

This is the room of someone a little more grown, with books and candles and pillows with blankets stacked upon an overly thick mattress. A bed you’re sat on the edge of, scrolling through your song playlist when they barge in and your head snaps over your shoulder to make you put on a pout. “Niichan, don’t just come in! Knock first! I ask you a million times,” you snap, putting the phone down to let your gaze shift to the taller man by his side.

Kuroo’s eyes can’t help but slip down the thin camisole you’re wearing, plain undies and exposed legs as you uncross them. You’ve got the overly girly thing down in the way you lean onto one arm though, and the way your lips jutt out do something weird to the base of his skull. Tickle, send heat downward. “I could be naked, niisan.” You say it pointedly, stare at Kenma a bit longer than is necessary.

Something unspoken sits in his friend’s eyes.

After a moment, you push yourself up more to raise your eyebrows and turn your chest to face them both. And your big brother messily scratches under the tiny ponytail that’s tied in his hair, before going to sit on the other side of your bed. “Kuroo has something he wants to ask you.”

His tongue sits too fat in his own mouth. Your pretty eyes flick up to his where he still stands in the doorway, and instead of dismissing them both like he kind of expects you to, you turn around completely and put both feet out onto the bed so your toes basically brush Kenma’s thigh. Who absentmindedly strokes your shin as cat-like eyes point up. Kuroo’s always been pretty easy to get along with, talkative enough to do it for the both of them. A natural way with people, or something.

This is entirely different. Here, he’s made a spectacle, two matching gazes studying him as he tries to chuckle. He’s eyed down as he walks three big steps forward to reach the bed, and slowly lets himself sink into the plush covers too.

He wasn’t always crushing on you like he is now. You were a bit of a little tike when he was still in high school, ran too hot for proper girly clothes and liked sitting in your pjs on the couch as they gamed. It’s entirely different now that you’ve been away a few years from college and walk around the shared apartment in shirts that barely cover your ass when you make breakfast. Hickeys blooming all over your throat and collar and up your thighs that he always ends up catching a glimpse of when you bend at the waist and your skirts slide up enough to reveal the curve of your ass.

He was sure it wouldn’t bother him as much to live with a girl. It’s different for your brother. He doesn’t have to notice. To Kuroo, you’re not any girl, and the way your tits rise and fall in those stupid little things you wear is making it too hard. Him, too hard, too.

As he chews on his words trying to find the right ones, you lull your head to the side cutely.

“Come out with it already, you two perverts.” You don’t mean it judging by the mirth in your eyes, but it still makes him fluster. Can’t help himself, giving Kenma a desperate glance to please help him out. You click your tongue. “Seriously… I was just about to go to bed.”

Kenma’s thin brows furrow slightly. “You can rub your little pussy later, can’t you?”

He almost chokes on his spit. The heat burns up his neck as he watches how Kenma wraps a hand around your wrist to keep you in place, and your mouth drops open. That’s not— he wasn’t gonna— your reaction baffles him too. Instead of getting ashamed at having your sexual proclivities discussed by your brother, you only give him a little sneer, and grab his wrist back so you’re both clinging to each other. There’s a little glitter in your eyes when you pout, then get onto your knees to get a bit closer to your big brother.

Close enough to lift yourself over him and straddle his lap. “Don’t be a pervert in front of your friend, nii—chan.” You chastise, but in a soft admittance sort of way that doesn’t sound all that sorry, or apologetic. “Don’t talk about my pussy either.”

“It’s fine.” You get so close that Kenma has to let go of your arm to instead wrap both arms around the small of your waist as he gets nose to nose with you — and Kuroo admittedly struggles to process anything. Your ass is planted right on Kenma’s lap who’s only wearing some boxers, and if it was him… he can’t think too hard about if it was him because he can feel himself start to stir in his own sweats. Kenma basically brushes lips with yours, before he straightens up to pull you closer. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“You,” your breathing hitches, and now your cheeks start getting hot when Kenma moves below you, “you haven’t told me yet.” Moves- below you? Yeah, Kuroo’s sure he can see Kenma roll his hips against your barely clad body. What the fuck. “Stop doing that.” You’re whining, and looking away from them both, before Kenma casts a glance over your shoulder to watch his friend. First Kuroo, and then the way he’s very uncomfortably trying to hide his chubbing cock by planting his hand in front of it into the blankets.

“Aren’t you gonna ask her?” Kenma asks. Hands sliding lower to grip both sides of the meat of your ass, obviously squeezing his fingers into it.

“Yeah- I- I uhm,” you make an effort to look back at him, so sweet, polite, but his attention is dragged to the way your panties are pulling around the globes of your ass and he swears he can see a wet patch starting to stain your undies where they cling to your pussy. And he’s really trying so hard, “Kenma thought -Kenma thought that I should ask you if you want- or not want-” Sweat prickles at his collar, as he stares resolutely into your pretty eyes and nowhere else.

“What he meant to ask,” Kenma helps out, hiking you up a little higher to basically press his cheek to yours when he places his chin on your shoulder, “-and stop grinding for a second- he’s already noticed you’re a bit of a sex fiend. Keep having your brains fucked out and moan like a whore through the walls and it’s keeping him up.”

Your face scrunches like you’re being treated entirely unfairly, a look shooting to your brother out of the corner of your eyes— but he refuses to let you go. “What the hell, niichan… you’re such a- you’re so mean, you freak.” Your eyes go all big and teary and flustered when you catch Tetsuro’s, and the way you stare at him with a mix of embarrassment and guilt is hot too. He’s not sure what’s happening. These last five minutes have been a blur. Why are you in Kenma’s lap in the first place? “D’you just bring Kuroo here to embarrass me or what?” You ask, voice pinched.

“-That’s not it, I swear.” Kuroo quickly chants, reaches out to grab your balled hand to rub a comforting hand over it. He lets go quick enough not to be overstepping, he hopes. He wants you to like him, if anything. Wasn’t that why Kenma dragged him here? “Don’t cry, please. You know Kenma doesn’t mean it.”

Kenma looks barely bothered at your distress, but does place a quick kiss on your neck and your collarbone. “We can tell him the whole truth now, I think.”

Kuroo watches how you push yourself back against Kenma’s face with two hands and drop back into the bed, thighs spread and wet, sticky panties clinging to your folds exactly like he imagined, and it makes his cock twitch. Hard cock, annoyingly pressing against the fabric of his boxers and feeling so fucking obvious in his sweats. It doesn’t really register that well that you’re wet from rubbing yourself in your big brother’s lap, only that you look weirdly adorable sucking up your tears to grimace. “I’m not telling anyone anything.”

Kenma’s hard too. He only notices it because Kenma doesn’t make any attempt to hide the way he shifts himself up in his boxers and stares you down too, eyes lingering on the way your tits rise and fall as you breathe. “You’re cute,” he adds, before eyeing Kuroo. It’s about just as embarrassing to be caught staring by him, as how his cock twitches again at the way you mewl at the praise. What the fuck is happening? Kenma’s smile when he glances back down at you is so sickeningly sweet and genuine, trailing fingers over your panties and sliding the camisole up to reveal more marks. “Y’see, Kuroo, my little sister isn’t actually some slut. These are mine.”

The room feels much too tight for three people to fit.

“When she’s moaning like that, that’s because I’m fucking her good, like she wants. Begs for it.” You look away embarrassed, place both hands on your face as you place a foot on Kenma’s hip and push a little, and your big brother grabs your ankle to push your knee back to your chest. “Don’t get so shy. I’m right.”

“Tetsuro didn’t know that though,” he wants to melt at the way you say his name. “Don’t be so casual about it. Pervert.”

“He doesn’t care.” Kenma assures back, and Kuroo suddenly feels like he needs to prove different. He stands from the bed to stare at you both, but that’s about as far as he gets. He’s so hard, and gobsmacked, and he feels like he might pass out from the heat that’s running through him. “He came in here to ask you to fuck him too, you know. That’s why he’s hard. Got hard thinking of your little, sweet, brotherfucking pussy.” Kenma’s only adding oil to the fire when he rubs his fingers through the mess hidden by your slicked undies, and making you shudder.

Your eyes find his again, now upside down from the way you’re leaned back in bed. “You’re quiet, Tetsuro.” You’re not nearly as shocked by Kenma’s statements as he expects you to be, so it must not be new. Fuck, how long have you two been doing this? Every time he heard you mewling whispers through the wall, moaning and the bed creak, stroking his cock in a cold sweat… wishing it was him. He barely mustered up the courage to ask, when Kenma cornered him about his crush.

Your mouth’s so pretty when you form the sounds of his name. “What do you want to do, Tetsuro?”

[olderthannetfic]

hi, as someone who is tragically gen Z and only ever read AO3, can I ask: what was so great about LiveJournal? Like, I know that there were fics posted there (and I've even read about the "purge", so I get why it isn't used anymore) and that it was sort of a forum-type thing. But what I don't understand, wouldn't Tumblr fill in the latter function? How was that site any different? I see a lot of people reminiscing about it and I'm confused

--

A big factor in LJ's greatness is timing and nostalgia.

It was genuinely great, but it wasn't quite as great as all of the Lo, shall the Golden Age ne'er come again? posts suggest.

LJ arrived at a pivotal time in the development of the internet both in terms of technical stuff and how many people had access. Many fans who are now in their thirties to fifties first discovered fandom through LJ and many were at a time in their lives when they were feeling energetic and up to making lots of new friends—and to figuring out how to make a site work for them.

I got on LJ in 2002 when it required invites. Fandom arrived in droves in 2003, first via coordinated campaigns to get invites to key people and then when LJ opened up free account creation to everyone. Back then, LJ's features sucked. It was impossible to search properly, among other things. At its height (2005-7, let's say), there was a reasonable site search, and fans had developed all sorts of community resources for finding each other.

People often remember this phase but not the early days of suckitude.

This development parallels how Tumblr used to not have that private chat feature and how a lot of fuckyeah[whatever] type tumblrs have helped curate the site and make it much more usable for fans. Fandom draining away from LJ after strikethrough also parallels people draining away from Tumblr after the purge.

There are people who talk about Tumblr the way my cohort talks about LJ...

And to the shock of no one, they are people who came of age on Tumblr, who found fandom via Tumblr, who were on Tumblr during pivotal times in their lives and ones when they had energy to make friends and figure out how a site worked.

Those same Tumblrites are now making all the same geriatric-sounding posts we LJers do about how other sites lack the required features to be good for fandom while missing that 90% of tumblr's "features" at its height (2012-2016, let's say) were actually fan-created and were basically the same as any fandom newsletter or links page or all the versions of this kind of personal curation stretching back to long before the internet existed.

What life phase you hit a site at matters.

--

With all of that said, no, LJ was not a forum. It was a blogging site with threaded comments.

The key point to understand is that conversation was always happening in a specific person's space. Unlike on a true forum, people were in the comments on a particular post in a journal owned by another fan. (On a forum, there's the first post in a thread, but it's still more of a communal space with less of a hierarchy.)

Overall, the LJ format can have a feeling a bit like you're over at someone's house for tea. There's more of a sense of intimacy and also behaving yourself in front of community members.

Tumblr being obscure and impossible to find anything in does give it some of the same vibe relative to Twitter, but it's still part of modern social media that tries to shove every rando into the face of every other rando.

But it wasn't just vibes: LJ also had robust privacy features where you could lock a post to this or that group of friends. You could moderate your comments section properly. Tumblr has far fewer controls to force people to behave or leave on a technical level.

--

The biggest thing many people miss about LJ is the threaded comments. At least by late LJ and on Dreamwidth, you can expand and collapse threads, making it far easier to deal with a massive comments section. But more than that, things are properly threaded with multiple levels of hierarchy that are all easily visible in the same place.

On Tumblr, it used to be extremely difficult to find all of the actual commentary on a post. Nowadays, it's far easier, but you still have to scroll chronologically, and multiple versions of a post with a long chain of commentary may be much more divorced from each other than what would happen in a LJ comments section.

--

But could we use Tumblr pretty much how we used LJ?

We could.

I do.

--

The key things that people tend to miss about LJ, aside from the younger and more excited version of themselves or the friends they've lost since then, are:

Heavily text-based

It may sound odd on the modern internet, but there are a lot of people whose brains don't like or handle an image-heavy site well. They were everywhere in SF book fandom. They were everywhere on the early internet. Today, they're hanging out on Dreamwidth and still going to their SF cons. They're usually not on Tumblr.

You could follow the discussion

Threaded comments help, but a lot of it is about having some place you can check for updates. It wasn't actually that easy to follow big LJ discussions unless you were subscribed to comments and reading along as things were happening instead of coming along after the entire mass of comments had been left.

The tone of the discussion is intellectual and one's enemies are "idiots", not "problematic"

All this requires is a penchant for longwindedness and an itchy blocking finger to remove anyone slinging ad hominems from the comments section.

On tumblr, it's as simple as conversations happening in the replies on a popular account and that person not tolerating suibaiting and threats.

(And make no mistake, a lot of LJ discussion was in the comments on popular accounts, not spread equally between everyone's.)

It does require that multiple people like that tone and want to engage in that way, but lots of people do want to.

--

These days, I interact with tumblr by checking my askbox and reading my activity page. The vast, vast majority of my posts are ones where I'm the OP, so if I block someone, they're booted from the discussion entirely.

For me... yeah, Tumblr functions almost exactly like LJ.

Also like LJ, while I'm hosting the conversation, if you hang around, you'll see the same people again and again in the comments. They may or may not also host that kind of conversation in their space, and there's a larger pool of lurkers who have some notion of which people count as regulars. Other people are watching from the shadows, enjoying or deriding the takes of the usual crowd.

People presumably do like reading my lengthy commentary or they wouldn't be here, but my tumblr wouldn't be popular like this without a healthy pool of other people who chime in regularly. It's not just that there are more people: it's that you see the same people over time. There's a bit more sense of place and community than on some parts of the internet.

--

So, in my opinion, the failure to just recreate LJ fandom on Tumblr was a skill issue.

Threaded comments were great, but LJ culture came from mailing lists, and mailing lists had the same issue as tumblr with the diverging threads.

We solved that back then by clipping out only the parts we wanted to respond to (you'd write "snip" around the quotation to show it was incomplete). We solved the smaller LJ issue by linking to other posts we were referencing and doing discussion link roundups. We solve it on tumblr by, again, linking to what we're talking about and even quoting multiple reblog chains in our own reblog of just one chain.

--

Tumblr's technical features and even general crap-ness aren't really the problem. 90s and early 00s sites regularly went down for periods of time unthinkable today.

The missing piece is people.

When one is in an active fandom with others who curate or with friends who let one know what's up, a site with imperfect features is easy to figure out and retrofit for fandom's needs. When one already feels out of touch and is between fannish passions—or at least fannish passions anyone else cares about—seeing the potential in a new site is hard.

--

Threaded comments are different and better.

LJ's built-in way to see everyone's blog in your own style was better. The automatic timestamps and the ease of seeing a paginated archive of an entire blog was better than tumblr's endless scroll and lack of clear date labeling. But some of that can be fixed with xkit or knowing your way around tumblr well.

A lot of it is nostalgia for the lj era and a refusal to take the time to figure out how to use tumblr in an oldschool internet way.

--

So by all means, people, weigh in about what made LJ great or how the culture felt at the time...

But if I see one more god damn response going "You can't have a conversation on tumblr!" in reply to my tumblr, which contains nothing but conversation, I am coming for you.

[b38rman]

READ YOUR MIND ᯓ★ Ollie Bearman

tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, slight miscommunication, loosely inspired by the sabrina carpenter song of the same name

synopsis - This was definitely not on the marketing internship job offering for Prema Racing. You swore you had everything under control before this—before Ollie Bearman took up most of the weekend's agenda.

rating - teen and up readers

warnings - slightly suggestive ending

a/n - i wrote this before ollie was announced as a 2025 f1 driver and the slight implications of dread related to that uncertainty are littered throughout this work so just keep that in mind (or not) enjoy!

Thursday — Spain, 2024

The unmistakable sound of the hotel doorbell rang through your room. Admittedly, the best time to go to sleep had already passed you by at this point, considering the 7 AM lobby call time the team had for you. Unfortunately, the restlessness that could only be attributed to constant location changes seeped into your bones.

You got up, trying to dispell the feeling populating your gut. Perhaps, more than anything, it was the dull influx of certainty. You were still learning how to get used to this.

You opened the door slightly, just enough to see who was on the other side. 

“Took you long enough.” The familiar rumble of Ollie’s voice filled your ears, as he pushed his way into your bedroom.

At this point, you were 100% sure that any of this was not part of any of the contracts Prema made you sign when they offered you the internship. No matter how much you looked between the lines of wage and non-disclosures, you wouldn’t find what you and Ollie had anywhere.

It was just that it was becoming a routine at this point. From the beginning of the season, Ollie seemingly couldn’t find a better victim than you for his late night musings. You tried to gently reprimand him at first, telling him off about his bedtime and his racing and all of the things he’d scoff at you for and turn a stubbornly deaf ear towards.

Ollie rounded the room slowly, his white sleep shirt and flannel pajamas contrasting against your worn summer camp shirt and cotton shorts. You felt overexposed, as you always did in these situations. 

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Ollie asked, mindlessly making his way to your side of the bed.

You thought about it for a second before responding, “Nope, too tired to be that stressed out.”

Ollie hummed in acknowledgment before laying back onto your bed, phone in hand, with his legs still dangling over the edge. He always took your side of the bed, despite it very obviously being rumpled and occupied.

You climbed onto the other side and tucked yourself in under the sheets. As if on instinct, Ollie moved his head upward, resting it on your stomach, before locking his phone and setting it on his chest. 

“I just feel a bit odd, you know? Like everyone says so many good things about me but really, I haven’t done anything.” He looked to the ceiling as he rambled. “I have another FP1 tomorrow and all I can think about is how I don’t know how to be what people want me to be. I don’t know how to keep being good, or how to really be good; will people even look back and think I was good?” 

“That’s some bad imposter syndrome you got there, huh?” You stretched your hand out and lightly laid it on his head, stretching your fingers against the expanse of brown waves. Ollie leaned into the touch, shutting his eyes.

“The only thing that should matter is who you want to be.” You grinned fondly at him, even if he couldn’t see it. “Besides, you’re way too young to be worrying stuff like that.”

“We’re the same age.” He opened his eyes just to look at you as he said that. 

“And do you see me worrying about my legacy?” You joked, earning a toothy smile and a roll of eyes from Ollie. 

At every moment you’ve spent with Ollie so far, he’s not felt like someone that appears on national television broadcasts or on carefully curated Pinterest boards. You could almost see yourself looking across the lecture hall, seeing him, and wondering if he was really paying attention or just browsing on his laptop.

Instead, he was one of the boys you’d keep track of social media appearances for. You managed his filming schedules for both long-form and short-form videos, and wove through seas of people and motorhomes with him to find a spot to record his little post-race briefs. You weren’t assigned to him specifically, but it usually was you and him most of the time.

“It’s, um, getting late.” You tried not to be too awkward about untangling your hand from Ollie’s hair. “I think you should get some rest.”

You waited for him to complete the final part of this routine you had going, wherein he’d sleepily walk to his own bedroom and you’d fall asleep in your own fully warmed bed. 

Except for the fact that he didn’t do that at all. 

“Could I just stay here? I don’t really want to be alone right now.” You felt Ollie shift ever so slightly from where he was, head still resting on you.

Questions on professionality and ethics rang through your mind one after another. 

“Are you sure?” Was all you could muster. 

Ollie seemed to recognize your concern without you voicing it. After all, you weren’t particularly discreet about any of it. 

“I’ll just wake up earlier, it’ll be fine.” He finally raised his head and began setting an alarm for five in the morning. Part of you knew it was futile. Considering everything, it was a bold move, considering that it was just past midnight.

You watched him mindlessly, as he turned all the lights off, only leaving the light from the bathroom peaking out through a slight opening in its door. For a moment, you let yourself think of a time and place where this was a normal occurrence—one where him curling up in bed next to you in near complete darkness felt like a grounding force instead of a guilt-inducing one.

You turned to face away from where he was laying, opting to try and not make this any weirder than it could be. 

“Good night.” He said regardless. “Sweet dreams.” He said, in a softer voice, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. 

You could feel his body near yours, almost as if the full size bed was too cramped for the two of you. 

“Sweet dreams, Ollie.” You replied.

You felt him roll over to his back as you drifted off to sleep. 

Friday

Your eyes shot open at the sound of an iPhone alarm going off, obviously being the one Ollie set a few hours prior. What you didn’t immediately process was the arm wrapped around your waist, and the soft snores coming from the face that was nuzzled into your hair. Your heart was pounding. 

“Ollie,” You lightly shook the arm that was over you. “Ollie, wake up.”

You were only met with a long grunt and a tightened grip.

“Ollie, please, come on.” You tried sitting up to give him a bit more of a hint, displacing his arm on you.

Finally, he rolled over, turning off his alarm. The sun was barely out yet, and you saw him squinting at you through his sleepy eyes. 

“I don’t want to go.” He said softly and groggily, toying with a loose string on your worn shirt. 

“You have to.” You replied with every ounce of control in your body.

Ollie grunted faintly before stretching his arms over his head, silently sitting up and making his way out of the door as quickly as he came through it. 

Everything kept moving into the next day. You’d comprehensively briefed Kimi in the morning on his share of marketing activities over breakfast and sneaked some Live at Prema footage here and there, with Ollie notably paying less attention and getting called by some F1 media members midway. 

The constant elephant in the room was the tinge of disappointment the team felt due to Ollie’s slightly lackluster feeder performances in direct comparison to all of the F1 hype surrounding him, which no amount of sarcastic humor from the team could conceal. 

Despite everything that happened the night prior, everything remained calm and professional (he barely acknowledged you outside of what he needed to do, which was both a relief and a punch to the gut). 

Between photoshoots and practice sessions, you’d spotted Ollie from afar. Barely anyone could get a hold of him after free practice, as he was justifiably rushing between garages. 

He was up and down the paddock clad in his black Haas shirt, clearly moving with an air of confidence that filled your chest with something you couldn’t describe. This Ollie felt worlds away, which brought you as much joy and pride as it did a hint of melancholy. You were still figuring out what he was making you feel, but at times like this, he felt worlds away.

You were pulled away from your thoughts as quickly as they came to you, as you engrossed yourself in content with the F1 Academy drivers. When you weren’t doing that, you were organizing paperwork, analyzing metrics, and sifting through footage on your phone and camera.

The feeling you suppressed earlier only returned as the F1 cars hit the track. You thought about how near he felt at present, just at touching distance in the space between your hotel room and Grisignano de Zocco; but you also thought about how faraway everything would become after Prema, and how much you’d have to feel if you allowed yourself to let your guard down around Ollie.

After all, every sane racing driver would hope that feeder wouldn’t be forever. Deep inside you, though, you wished this feeling wouldn’t just be hidden in the footnotes of what would become Ollie’s career. Nevertheless, the sheer idea of wanting someone who was literally the face of a future generation of racing amidst the backdrop of him being capable of being wanted by every other person in the world felt incredibly absurd and daunting to say the least. 

(The two of you weren’t even anything. You weren’t really sure about these thoughts.)

After your rumination and the inevitable conclusion of the free practice session, you continued your work as you were directed to. It was entirely a coincidence, though, that your next duties included bringing parts of Ollie’s race kit and his water to his area in the shared driver’s area in preparation for qualifying. As every internship went, you often had miscellaneous work to fulfill.

Kimi had already finished his personal preparations for qualifying, already looking over last minute data, while Ollie was running late due to his prior commitment. The air was undeniably stress-ridden, as your first real encounter of the race day with Ollie was him scrambling to get into his overalls and suit, but you set everything down calmly while pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Was starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.” Ollie was the first to break the silence, imploring you to look up at him.

Warmth filled your body at his words. For a moment, you worried that he knew he had some type of effect on you, but you quickly pulled yourself together mentally. 

“One less person to persuade to listen to my content briefs.” You shrugged, smiling at him playfully, almost daring him to retaliate. 

As the rush caught up to both of you, the only cohesive answer to your banter that he gave you before exiting into the garage was a soft squeeze on your forearm. 

“We’re friends, right?” Ollie asked, already tucking himself into your bed without hesitation.

Once Ollie was done slumping over in qualifying debriefs with the team, he made his way to your room again. It was the same routine as last night, just with a lot less talking.

The thing is, you weren’t saying anything either. That in itself said a lot.

You looked at him, eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes?”

Well, you were sharing a bed, tucked under the same sheets, staring face to face at each other in the dim yellow light of your Barcelona hotel room. 

“Maybe? I don’t know, Ollie—“ You second-guessed for a moment before continuing, “—I’m literally an intern. We work together, technically.” 

Ollie’s face twisted into something unreadable. His eyes shifted to the side as he mouthed the word ‘technically’ under his breath. 

“I mean, I guess we could be friends if you want.” You followed up. God, you felt ridiculous for having a conversation that sounded like this. 

He took a breath, deep and slow. “I want a lot of things,”He answered.

Ollie looked at right you, eyes so big, bright, and endless.

“I know.” You replied impulsively, in a voice barely above a whisper. 

He got so dangerously close to you that you could feel the warmths of his breaths on your face. 

“You don’t.” The weight of his gaze felt like it was melting you from the inside out. “You really don’t.” 

Ollie closed the gap between the two of you, his dry lips engulfing yours for what felt like an eternity, despite it being maybe a five-second peck at most. When he pulled away, you were breathing like he’d taken all of the air out of your lungs just from the sheer pace your heart was beating at.

A look of uncertainty flashed across his almost annoyingly pretty face. The kiss was so sweet, and you hated to be the one to make him question himself.

“We shouldn’t.” You said in conjuction with your uncontrollable heartbeats and air-filled breaths. 

“Then tell me you don’t want this.” Ollie challenged, laying one calloused, warm hand on your cheek.

“Ollie—“ You tried to protest. Every logical part of your brain was telling you how wrong all of this was, and how stupid you were for letting this happen in the first place.

In spite of all that, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You couldn’t lie to him for the life of you. 

You wanted this so bad. All you could do was want.

You laid your cold hand atop the one cupping your face, and let yourself look back at the earnest look on his face. You felt overexposed, sensitive all over like you’d been put out in the sun for too long.

“Please.” You could barley manage words, but you finally let yourself lean into him to erase every seed of doubt planted in his mind. 

The movement of your lips against one another quickly turned hot and heavy, and you let Ollie take and take everything he could’ve wanted. His hand wandered down to your neck and achingly close to your chest, as his kisses migrated down to your neck.

“We—ah—we really shouldn’t be doing this,” You weakly attempted to be rational, even if your hand was tangled in his hair and heat was quickly pooling between your thighs.

In response, he dove right below your collar bone, beginning with a bite and continuing with not-so-subtly marking you there, coaxing a mix between a gasp, wimper, and a soft moan out of you. 

It was glaringly obvious that he didn’t care all that much.

[kyri45]

Hey! I absolutely adore your ShadowPeach Bio Parents AU! I look forward to it every other day and even have it in my calendar 😅. I was wondering if you have a clear outline for the story or if you are discovering as you go? If you have a plan for the story how far along are you? If you don’t that’s ok! Discovering something as you go is just as fun! I was just curious! Sorry if someone asked this already lol. I hope you have a wonderful day ❤️

Thenk you for the question!

So after like- 3 days of making the original post that started all, In my head I knew exactly how the story would end. What I hadn't forseen was all the in-between scenes that came to me later (also thanks to the help of all of you) and that in the end made the story longer, but much more curated.

That being said, the "Full Moon Eclipse" part is the last part that I'll make with all these "in betweens" scenes. The following part will be what I envisioned since this July, and it's the endgame of the story. I honestly can't wait for you all to see it.