#one of the prettiest shoots he has ever done

[anotherdescentintomadness]

Wang YiBo — Weibo Movie Night 220814

[melon-fodder]

-> KINKTOBER MASTERLIST <-

♡ WARNINGS: reader has a pussy and tits, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, demeaning pet names (doll, sweetheart, bitch), outdoor sex, forced proximity, toji is insufferably hot, kinda dub-con

♡ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

♡ NOTE: was so hoping I would get this one done and I did, so ha! For anyone who has been brought here by this piece, please know I do not regularly post JJK, so sorry! Enjoy reading~

This cabin is a joke. Unliveable. He shouldn’t be in a shithole like this. Toji comes from money. He’s used to living in luxury–penthouses with big screens and full bars, king-sized beds with sheets made from Egyptian cotton.

So the goddamn cot in this fucking Lincoln Logs-ass shack is frankly insulting, and if he wasn’t in hiding, he would march right into his pretentious boss’ office and give him a piece of his mind and maybe the barrel of his gun.

The only good thing about Toji’s current predicament is that he’s not alone. You are also with him, two assassins laying low in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Of course, he may as well be all by himself; it’s not as if you’re actually paying him any attention.

You’re pissed at him, acting like a little bitch because he may have almost botched a job the two of you were on. So what? The guy is still dead. Riddled with a few too many bullets, sure, but that’s neither here nor there.

At least Toji still gets to ogle you, watch you shuffle around the cabin in leggings and loose sweatshirts. No bra, either. Yeah, he’s seen the way your nipples peek out from under the material. Fucking tease. Just as tempting as the way spandex hugs your ass and, in some cases when Toji is lucky, perfectly outlines what he knows must be the prettiest little pussy.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you bite out, glaring at him from over your mug of steaming tea.

Toji smirks, spread out on the threadbare couch while you stand in the shitty kitchen about six feet away from him. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, doll.”

“Oh, fuck you. You’ve been watching me like I’m your next target. I’m getting tired of it.”

“Well, boo-fucking-hoo,” he sneers. “There’s nothing better to do in this pile of shit. May as well enjoy the view.”

You set your cup down too forcefully, liquid sloshing out from the side, then stomp over to him, leaning into his space in an oh-so tantalizing way. You’re putting yourself in a real precarious position, he thinks, smart enough to keep his mouth shut as you fume.

“You even think about putting your hands on me, and I swear I’ll turn you into a fucking Ken doll.”

Toji grins sideways. “That mean you’ll touch it?”

The force of your slap is a little jarring, he has to admit, but not at all surprising. You’ve been riled up since the two of you arrived days ago, and Toji is not doing anything to help you relax on your little getaway. The complete opposite, actually. Truthfully, he’s a little impressed that it’s taken you this long to hit him.

But, you made the first move (he loves that in a woman), so he has no choice but to retaliate, swiftly pulling you into his lap, unashamed of his now half-hard dick.

“Jesus Christ, you’re sick,” you yell, struggling in his grip, rubbing your plump little ass all over his cock. “Let go of me!”

“Keep squirmin’ like that, and I’m gonna make a mess in my pants, babygirl.”

Unlikely–he’s not some teenager who’ll cum at a little grinding–but the way your face morphs with disgust is too good. “Would you clean it up for me if I asked nicely?” he teases further, grunts when your heel comes down hard against his shin.

His grip loosens enough for you to escape his hold, and Toji mumbles a dejected, “tease,” as you shoot to the other side of the very small room.

“I will kill you right fucking here if you ever do that again,” you grit through your teeth, hands shaking where they’re balled into fists.

Toji shrugs, annoyed, unsatisfied, and throbbing in the confines of his sweats. “Try it. I’ll have you pinned faster than you can even reach your gun.”

You huff, knowing damn well he’s right. You’re good at killing; he won’t deny that.

He’s just better.

~

Toji starts playing with you more after that, seeing how many of your buttons he can press without actually facing your promised wrath.

It’s the way he stares at you, casually brushing up against you in seemingly innocent ways. He walks around shirtless, making it impossible for you to not look at him.

Really, he just takes up as much room as he possibly can, ensures that you don’t get a moment’s peace. It’s obviously affecting you. He watches you get more and more restless as the days go by. You’re both bored out of your minds with only a few channels on the fucking box television to keep you entertained.

There is literally nothing to do but sleep and fuck. Toji’s been doing a lot of both (though, he wishes it was your pussy he was fucking and not his fist in the shower).

You, however, choose walking over sex, going on long strolls around the perimeter. You say that you’re being vigilant, but Toji knows you’re just trying to get away from him.

“You know, if you’d let me, I could help you relax,” he offers one day, trying to tune out the sound of your never ending footsteps as you pace back and forth. “Seriously, you’ve gotta simmer down.”

“You realize there are several bounties out on both of us right now, right? Like, does that not bother you?”

“Not really,” he replies. “People have been wanting to kill me since I was born. This ain’t nothin’ new.”

You stop pacing and look at him, eyebrows pinched in adorable confusion. “That’s… actually kinda sad.”

“Right?” Toji agrees, pouting dramatically as he tries, “wanna help me feel better about my sad, sordid life?”

He laughs when you groan, scrubbing your hands down your face. “You just won’t fucking quit, will you?”

“Not until I get to feel your pussy squeezin—”

You cut him off, “just stop!” voice all pitchy and grating. However, the next thing out of your mouth is like music to Toji’s ears: “if I let you fuck me, will you get off my back about it?”

He lifts an eyebrow, ignoring the way his cock twitches, then lies through his teeth, “absolutely,” because he already knows that once he’s had you, he’s gonna want you over and over and over again.

Sucking your teeth, you cross your arms over your chest and grumble, “fine,” as your mouth twists downward. “But later. For now I need to be… not around you.”

“Whatever you gotta do to get ready, sweetheart. You know where to find me.”

Except Toji doesn’t stay still for long. He waits for just a few minutes, long enough for you to let your guard down. Long enough for you to get a head start. And then takes off in the same general direction that you did.

You’re nowhere in his line of sight, but you’re easy to follow especially since you don’t actually know you’re being tracked. Your boots leave trails in the brown, fallen leaves, steps echoing off every branch that surrounds you.

A chilly breeze whistles through the trees, but Toji is too hot to really feel it. You may be covered up head to toe in a flannel and tights, but you won’t be for long. Soon, he’ll strip you down, and by that time, you’ll be thankful for the wind.

You move slowly, absentmindedly, look lighter now that you think you’re alone. Your shoulders aren’t as tense, and your fingers move as if you’re rehearsing a song. Different from the high-strung little bitch he’s had to live with for the past week.

Too busy watching you, Toji isn't focused on the ground beneath his feet. The sound of a twig snapping may as well be a gunshot, and you drop into a crouch immediately, neck practically snapping as you twist to find the source: him.

You lock eyes with each other, and something must flash in his, something dangerous—something hungry. He stays still, watching you watch him. Assessing. Registering him as the threat that he is.

“You gonna run from me?” he taunts, and you answer by doing exactly that, taking off at a sprint.

It makes Toji’s blood race in a way he’s only experienced when holding a weapon, when spattered with blood. It’s the rush he feels when he’s holding someone’s life in the palm of his hand.

He hurries after you, not quite at his full speed—that would end this too quickly—but fast enough to keep his heart pumping, quick and heavy where it rattles in his ribcage.

You veer left and he follows, giving you enough space to make you feel like you just might outpace him, that maybe you’ll get somewhere safe.

Boots slipping on the foliage underfoot, you careen forward only to catch yourself on your hands and push forward like a track star. Toji is locked on to your every movement now, the pump of your legs and arms, the way your hair whips around your face, the panicked little noises that slip from your mouth that you think he can’t hear.

Oh, but he can. He hears and sees it all, and he wants it. He wants you.

You have no fucking idea how cute you are like this, eyes widening when you chance a glance over your shoulder to find him gaining on you.

A high pitched shriek, and then he sees it—the ghost of a smile, a hysterical giggle bubbling out of your chest.

Toji feels his face split into a manic grin, desire coursing through his veins, clogging his arteries, making his mouth water and his dick twitch. When he gets his hands on you…

“You havin’ fun?” he calls from behind you, blessed with another look from you, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him, and it’s that curiosity that cuts this little game short.

You trip over a root and go down hard this time, grunt when all the air is pushed from your lungs. He doesn’t give you the chance to get back up, just puts his foot in the middle of your back to keep you in place.

Toji clicks his tongue in an admonishing tsk, presses down on you with a little more weight when you start to wiggle.

“I see why you’re so scared about those bounties,” he muses, “you’re way too fuckin’ easy to track down.”

“I wasn’t—hh—” he pushes harder just for the fun of it and is rewarded with a little squeak of desperation. “—wasn’t trying to hide.”

“No?” Toji removes his foot only to lower himself, squatting over you as he slinks a hand around your neck and tugs you toward him so that your back bends into a painful arch. “Why’s that?”

“Fuck you,” you manage to gasp, your fingers curling into the dirt, feet scrambling for traction to relieve some of the pressure he’s putting on your spine.

He laughs darkly, “you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? This your idea of foreplay?”

Without letting you answer, he lets go of you and flips you over, takes in the sight of your heaving chest and the wild look in your eyes.

“Tell me, doll, did that get your pussy wet?” He reaches between your legs, rubs your mound through your tights and smirks at how much heat is radiating from your core.

“Not so much fight in you now, is there?” he teases, licking his lips when you rub yourself against his palm.

“Would you just… nng fuck—just get on with it,” you grit.

“Get on with what?”

“Just fuck me!” you plead. It comes off as a demand, but Toji knows better, appreciates the position you’re in. You’re nothing but a scared dog, snapping at a hand that’s only trying to feed you.

“Right here?” he questions in fake surprise, “in the woods? Dirty girl.”

“Toji, I swear to God—”

He shuts you up with a harsh kiss, the kind that bruises, leaves lips split, swollen, and slick with spit. The kind of kiss that makes you chase him after he’s pulled away.

“You talk too much,” he states plainly, and all you do is slowly blink at him.

Yeah, he’s got you now. You’re fucking hooked, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

He’s nearly fully hard, grinds his cock against your stomach so that you can feel what you’ve gotten yourself into. You whimper and roll your hips, baiting him further, but he doesn’t go for it. Not yet.

Instead he sits back on his knees and paws at your tights, starting to pull them down before he gets impatient and simply tears. It doesn’t take much effort; they’re made of cheap material and Toji is, well, stronger than the average person.

You make a noise of protest, but it dies in your throat when he spreads your legs and stuffs your already dripping cunt with two of his fingers.

“I knew you were getting off on that—just like I knew you’d have the most gorgeous fuckin’ pussy,” he drawls, watching the way his fingers split you open and groaning at how warm and soft you are. God damn, you are going to feel divine wrapped around his cock.

“Come on, baby, tell me you liked it…” he licks a stripe up your neck, his free hand slipping under your sweatshirt to grope your tits— “heart’s beating so fast. You excited?”

You shake your head and buck your hips all at once, and when Toji leans close again, you surge up to catch him in another cruel kiss. This time, you fist your hands in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt.

He lets you think you’re at least halfway in control, but the longer you taste him, the faster he fingerfucks you, his palm slapping against your clit as he increases the pace until you start to grow tense beneath him.

He knows that look, that tell-tale coil of muscles. You stop kissing him, breaths getting short and quick, but Toji keeps his face close to yours, growls at you to, “look at me while you cum,” as he pulls your first, messy orgasm from you.

You truly are a sight to behold, whole body spasming as your cunt sucks at his fingers. You break his gaze when your eyes roll into the back of your head, lips trembling around poorly formed pleas.

It feels like his last shred of sanity snaps. Seeing you run from him was one thing, triggered something primal in his brain that made him chase—hunt—but this, having you laid out on the dirt and the leaves…

This is how it was always supposed to be, Toji thinks to himself as he pulls his cock free from his pants. It throbs with every beat of his heart, pulsing in his palm and leaking pearly precum.

You’re soft and pliant from your orgasm, offering only a whimper when he readjusts and hikes your leg over his shoulder.

“Gonna be good for me, yeah?” he huffs, lining himself up with your sopping entrance, thick head prodding at your squishy ring of muscle. “Just take it like a good girl, just—”

He cuts himself off with a groan as he starts pushing in, bullying his way into your perfect cunt and reveling in the noises it makes. You suck him deeper and deeper, and Toji laughs at the expression painting your pretty face: shock, maybe a little fear as you struggle to look down at where you’re attached, watching as he fills you inch by inch.

Your body stretches around him, makes him feel like fucking Moses the way your spongy walls make room for his girth.

“Fuck… fuck, Toji, you’re—”

“Sh, sh, I know, sweetheart, just a little more,” he lies. He’s maybe halfway in, but there’s no way he’s stopping now, not until his cockhead is bruising your cervix.

You whine, back arching, and Toji tries to soothe you with a clumsy kiss only to hiss when you catch his lip and bite hard.

He grunts, tries to pull back, but you keep him still, drawing blood from his mouth first then his ribs when you claw at him. He can feel his shirt cling to the shallow wounds and growls when you release him, the sudden loss of pressure just as painful as the initial bite.

“Jesus, woman…”

“You—hah—deserve it,” you choke, stained mouth opening wider and wider with every inward thrust.

Your cry echoes in the woods when he bottoms out without warning, and Toji immediately sets a merciless pace. He watches you coat his thick shaft in cream, your poor little fuckhole so leaky and stretched. The noises you’re making are more animal than human, needy whines and pained grunts as you take everything he has to give.

Toji fists a hand in your hair, gives your head a little shake and watches the way your eyes slowly roll to meet his. Your lips are swollen, still red with his own blood, but they part when he tells you to, “open wide,” so he can spit on your tongue. Toji grins when you swallow, finally finally too out of your damn mind to talk back.

“That’s a good bitch,” he mutters, and when he sees your mouth twitch into a little smile, he pushes further, “that’s all you wanted, yeah? You just needed to be put in your place, huh, baby?”

He throws your other leg over his shoulder and locks both arms behind you, hands curling up your back to grip your shoulders. Rutting into you relentlessly, Toji kisses and bites all over your neck and chest, licking up the drool that slips from your mouth.

You’ll be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you’re tough, so you’ll live. And even if he has to listen to you bitch and moan, it’ll be worth it after feeling your sweet pussy wrapped around him, gushing all over his fat cock with every orgasm he forces out of you.

“T-Ji…”

It comes out more as a cough, one that Toji ignores as he feels his climax approach. He uses you like a toy, fucking into you over and over and committing the sticky squelch of your pussy to memory. He’s gonna replay this masterpiece over and over for years to come, fucking his fist while imagining the way you look right now—tears streaming down the sides of your face, lips spit slick and swollen, skin all bruised up from his own mouth and fingers.

Fuck, you’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous, and you’re taking his cock so well, pussy swallowing him up and squeezin’ so so nice, he has to let go. He has to—

“Oh fuck, baby, gonna fill you up so good. You ready?”

You respond with a sort of gurgle that Toji takes as confirmation, and after a few more thrusts he empties his heavy balls inside of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum so much or so hard in his life, hot white painting your guts in viscous ropes until it starts seeping out around his cock.

Your poor cunt is so swollen, lips all puffy and messy with slick and cum. And that fat little clit—Toji pinches it, probably too mean, and coos at you to relax and take it when you start to sniffle.

“Sorry, baby. Gotta make sure you get yours too, right?” He knows you already have, but he can’t help but toy with you a little longer.

Besides, you’re being so good for him now, so docile as your body twitches, jaw moving like you want to say something but can’t, eyes rolling all around your pretty head until your muscles seize up and you cum for him one more time.

“There we go—that’s a good girl, see?” You blink teary eyes at him, a deep breath shuddering through you as one, maybe two senses return to you. “Feel better?”

You nod slowly as if confused. Or high. Probably the latter considering Toji is feeling pretty stoned too, a little dizzy as he sits up straight and leans back on his heels.

“Good. Next time you need the attitude fucked outta ya’, just tell me instead of actin’ like a bitch, ‘kay?”

A little smirk curls onto your face, and before Toji can react, you’re sitting up with two hands wrapped around his throat.

“Call me that again, and I’ll show you what a bitch can really do.”

Your palm presses against his windpipe in a threatening way. Your eyes shine with dark promise.

And Toji’s cock twitches at the idea of riling you up all over again.

[joonieskinks]

biker!simon riley x professor!reader

warning: swearing, seggsual tensionnnn

-

You met when you were running late to your next lecture across campus. You decided to take a short run in the rain outside rather than take longer inside going through the connected buildings.

A mixture of your hair in front of your face and trying to keep your papers from falling out your hands, he was this close to running you over.

“Fuck me!” You screech out just before the bike tire could meet your legs, halting suddenly. You whip your hair out of your face and eyes meet a black helmet, a void glaring back in your direction. Quite a bike for a big man, a man who is covered in tattoos. If you weren’t so pissed off, you’d probably think his physique attractive.

“My God, you almost hit me!”

“‘Yer the one who dashed out ‘nto the road, love.” He states cooly, completely unmoving.

“Just- watch where you’re going, okay?.” You scoff, tidying your blazer before you started walking away.

“Right back at you, sweetheart.” The biker mumbles, but you hear him loud and clear. You toss an annoyed look over your shoulder, and he revs away after eying you up and down.

/

The second time you met was on your way home at a bus stop on campus. You were waiting on the sidewalk, which just so happened to be next to a set of lights.

Lucky you, looking up from your phone at just the right time to stare right at the black helmet of the man on the motorcycle, stopped at a red, looking right back at you.

The begrudgingly hot guy from before. Of course. You struggle to not roll your eyes.

“‘Thought you profs made at least ‘nough to ‘fford a car.” He yells a bit over the sounds of traffic.

This time you really do roll them.

“I’m not far from here, I don’t need a car.” You state, going to look back at your phone.

He takes off his helmet and suddenly his voice is so much clearer.

“‘Then lemme take you home.”

Your head shoots up and you’re met with the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen with the prettiest eyes. And naturally, he’s smirking. You can tell he likes the effect he so clearly has on you. It’s ridiculous that you’re reduced to a nervous mess just like that.

“Wha-?” You start, but he quickly hurries you.

“Well come on then, we gotta go.” He tilts his head back to the traffic waiting behind him as the light turns green.

You don’t even think twice, just hop on the back of this man’s bike, holding against him so tight with your legs wrapped around him. You can smell him, he’s so warm and firm under your touch, you wonder what he would feel like without all his layers. It sends shivers down your back and makes your thighs clench at the thought.

“I felt that.” He chuckles a bit and you can feel a deep blush setting in.

“Hold on,” he quickly outs his helmet but on and revs off. The quick motion forces you to grip him tighter, a small yelp leaving your lips.

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, why the heck did you do this, you don’t even know this man! He could be a serial killer for all you knew and here you are rubbing up against him for crying out loud.

“Hey, you gotta focus, love. Gotta tell me where to go.” He yells over the wind, his hand coming to rest on one of your own to help get your attention. You hesitate to respond and he picks up on it rather quickly, slowing down a bit so you can hear him.

“‘Names’ Simon Riley,” he starts. “I work with the army on the base just outside of town, I drive around to clear m’head.”

He hesitates briefly before finishing.

“I’ve never done anything like this before. Just liked you when I saw you in the rain.” Simon finishes and you’re feeling that warm stir in your chest. It was clear he was trying to make you feel more comfortable, more at ease. It was sweet and for you, it went a long way. You tightened your grip on him, almost as if you were hugging him as a thank you.

“More like when you almost hit me.” You quip back and Simon laughs again, the vibrations coursing through you.

You tell him your name, what you teach and finally the directions to your place. You two laugh about it being in the complete other direction he’s been driving, but Simon just smiles about it. He finds you oddly charming, you’re incredibly intriguing to him, endearing already just from a few exchanged sentences.

Then he says something about how he gets to spend more time with you this way. It makes you bite back a smile and blush, you’re just glad he can’t turn around and see it right now.

When you arrive at your place, a part of you hesitates to get off of his bike, you don’t quite want to leave his presence yet. He feels too good, smells too good, a perfect little moment, a rush of excitement. Simon feels it too, that’s why he helps you off his bike, reaching out for you to take his hand. Any excuse to touch you after all, he doesn’t wanna let go either.

His hand in yours feels so good, something so simple and minimal, but he can’t help but want more. Still, he’s a gentleman, he won’t overstep and scare you off. You’re too much of a catch in his eyes to get ahead of himself.

Once you’re settled back onto the pavement, you hesitate to let go, fingers brushing his hand before you reluctantly let go. You smile at the ground, desperately trying to compose yourself, and he does the same, removing his helmet and fiddling with it.

“Can I-“

“Would you-“

You both start at the same time, laughing it off. You look back into his eyes and it takes everything in him not to look away in embarrassment. You’re just too pretty for him, he’d stare for hours otherwise.

“Simon,” you start sincerely. “Would you like to go and get dinner sometime?” Playing with your fingers nervously. Your heart was in your throat, you don’t usually do anything like this ever and-

“Pick you up tomorrow at 6? I’ll bring my spare helmet for ya next time.”

You nod as controlled as you can, not wanting to seem too too eager…

(Simon doesn’t have a spare helmet, he’s actually gonna go out and buy one tonight just for you, but you don’t need to know that yet.)

You go to tuck a stray hair behind your ear but miss, it falling back in your face. He notices and steps forward to tuck it for you. Again, any excuse to touch you. It’s nice to be this close to Simon again, you can smell him and it makes you feel dizzy.

“I’d love that.” You reply and he holds your cheek for a brief second, then he lets go. The smallest gesture from him already getting you to clench your thighs again.

You’re fucking hooped.

Simon boldly comes forward once more to whisper in your ear-

“Saw that, princess.”

He kisses your cheek softly, then moves to put his helmet back on and starts his bike back up.

“See you tomorrow then.”

And just like that, he’s gone. Leaving you alone on the street, a blushing mess. Left with an ache to see him again already and a wetness between your thighs.

No, you’re fucking fucked.

[glotoru]

SHE’S MY COLLAR. eren jaeger

── eren knows you, he can deal with you; but sometimes, your obsessions can be too much, even for him.

content contains : nerdy!eren x dumb!gf so real, reader is needy and obsessed with eren, nsfw, unprotected sex, riding, dumbification, ‘just the tip’ moment, size kink kinda, slight cervix kissing, dick drunk reader & pussydrunk eren, creampie. wc: 2.2k. minors do not interact thanks &lt;3

god, you’re annoying sometimes.

unfortunately, you can never seem to realize that your boyfriend is a busy person—or anyone, really, for that matter. it’s like you believe everyone is just as carefree as you; leaving things up to the ‘fate of the universe’ and ditching responsibilities to constantly hang out with eren, essentially leaving him to deal with your eccentricity and fixations.

and it comes as no surprise to learn that he just happens to be the latest one.

it’s different from your other ones—they were much easier. because he could simply just take you to the nearest parlour and buy you scoops and tubs of your favourite ice cream, or spend his latest internship check on your wardrobe and be done with it for a favourable amount of time. but with this? you’ve been as insatiable as they come.

eren can count on two hands how many times you’ve begged him, with tears clumping your dark lashes and patchy mascara, to get away from assignments, studying, classes—even work—just to come see you in the past week. and of course, they all ended the same way; with swollen lips, limbs sore from how you held your legs to your torso as he rutted his hips into the fat of your ass, your messy cunt full of his cum, and both his face and sheets stained with your juices. he doesn’t doubt he’s been shooting blanks for the last few times, too.

but still, the worst part about it all is the fact that he just can’t bring himself to say no to you—despite all of his damned efforts to do so.

“‘ren, you should pay attention to your girlfriend.” you groan, neck curling backwards as you crane your head up to look at him. you’re planted near his left leg as he works away at the desk in his bedroom, completely ignoring your words while pages of code reflect on his glasses. “i don’t wanna sit down here anymore.”

‘i’ve been paying attention to you all week’, he wants to say—but would rather opt for the regular ‘im busy’ rather than anything else that could potentially hurt your feelings. and eren knows you’re immune to it, how if you had a dollar for every time those words left his mouth, you’d be fucking millionaire most likely—but he does it anyways.

it’s laughable, how you offered to sit there yourself as opposed to his lap because he said you would distract him if you did. yet here you were still doing the same thing; looking up at him with that subtle pout and eyes full of adoration of some sort—the kind that has his dick swelling at an embarrassingly quick rate.

“can you take a break? i miss you s’much it hurts.”

eren recognizes the drag in your voice in almost a second. as if uttering a silent prayer, he keeps his breath in the tunnel of his throat when you lazily hug him, hardened nipples brushing against his bare leg through the thin fabric of your tank top. he knows he’s taking you for granted. shit...just how many guys would pay money for this sight; the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on asking him for attention. in all honesty, you’re not the best influence, but it’s gruelling trying not to give in to you.

“fine.” the four letter word is all you need as an invitation to jump from the seat near his chair and into his legs, which widen just a teeny bit for your comfort as you straddle him.

the feeling of your arms wrapped around Eren’s slender waist whilst burying your head in his chest burns through his clothing and into his skin. instead of focusing on how your acrylics gently rake up and down his back, he chooses to open up his phone, mindlessly swiping between different page screens and periodically opening up the ‘settings’ which seem to be so important.

honestly, you just needed to be close to him; close enough to bunch his shirt in your hands while you get a whiff of his body soap and cologne—the same one lingering in your apartment, your clothes, everything. but ugh, his scent alone isn’t capable of grant your contentment; you need him inside of you—his muddled moans flowing into your mouth as you tangle your fingers within his hair, the way his brows pull together when he frantically rubs and your clit, desperate to get you crying for him.

the thought of him alone is more than enough to get you off, and just for a moment you forget eren’s there. too stuck in your head and up in the clouds, you fail to notice the way your body subconsciously rocks itself on his lap, arms tightening in the embrace as you tense from the slight stimulation to your cunt.

and eren. . .he watches with wide eyes full of surprise, his phone falling to the floor with a thud. there’s no other way to describe the sight other than pretty—your eyes are squeezed shut with fickle breaths and lips jutted out into a pout; the same pout you give when it’s just not hitting right. but he can feel all of you rubbing against his crotch, even the damp spot forming on the centre point of his grey sweatshorts.

fuck, he concludes that you must not be wearing anything under the satin shorts hugging your legs. sooner or later, you’d be the death of him.

eren jaeger: death by pussy.

doesn’t sound too bad, considering what he knows he’s in for.

“i need it eren, can’t cum without it.” you ramble the same words that you’ve been saying for the last week, eyes glossed over when you look up at his flushed face. when he tries to speak, you’re quick to cut him off, “just the tip, promise—i promise…”

eren’s almost unsure how he finds himself mindlessly nodding along, as if your whines and pleas are like a coercive drug, “just the tip…”

you repeat those three words over—like it’s more of a mantra to yourself rather than a word of reassurance to your boyfriend—as you clumsily pull one leg out of the confinement of your shorts, giving him the perfect view of your sheened over pussy. just the tip, you mumble, drooling at the sight of eren tugging his pants further down his legs to free his dick, all achey and upright, standing against his torso as he breathes heavily.

your cunt throbs when you line yourself over him, dragging his leaky tip across your folds and sensitive clit. it’s easily one of the best reliefs you could ask for, eyes flitting around in the back of your head as you lean into his shoulder. poor eren could probably cum straight like this, seeing you use him like a damned fuck toy—seeing how horny you are for only him.

his moans only add fuel to the fire, pushing you to try your luck at sliding down his bulbous head before stopping right where it ends. he’s just so big, stretching out your hole with just the tip alone—leaving you to mutter a string of jumbled up curses as your body leans forward into him.

“does it feel good, baby?” the hoarseness in his voice is difficult to miss, it’s as if his throat is closing up with every passing moment. you’ve never tried this before, but the vice grip your cunt has on the most sensitive part of him has him wishing you’d done this much sooner.

“yeah—yeah, it feels really-”

your last word comes out in choked whine, breath hitching when his middle and ring finger find their way to your clit, tracing feather-light circle on the bud.

you want eren to make you cum—you’re so desperate that you resort to steadily rutting yourself down on his tip, focused enough to not break your promise to him. there’s a steadily approaching burn in your thighs: it’s a burn that makes you want to cry, makes you want to beg him to make the pain go away and make you finish—but you hold your tongue.

eren’s lips can only part at your unexpected determination, showcasing the sharp bottom teeth that look so much like fangs. you don’t think when you move a hand to his flushed face, your thumb messily slipping inside his mouth and padding the surface of his canines. your other hand makes its way to his glasses, gently pushing them back up the bridge of his nose before meeting his swollen lips with your own.

the residue of the strawberry cake you fed him hours prior is still lingering on his tongue, you can at least make that out as you swirl your own in his mouth.

the voice in your head chanting ‘just the tip’ is growing fainter and quieter, as if it’s moving from the front of your brain all the way to the back of your head, alongside all of the other forgotten things that seemed to hold no importance to you anymore. you want to feel all of him, the pulse of his cock that seems to barely match his heartbeat, the prominent vein running up the length, and the delicious curve that jutted up right against your walls.

“‘ren, don’t wanna hold out anymore.” relentless is what you’re becoming, tired of the way that your pussy grows achey with every passing moment—it’s not enough.

“you said just the t-tip.”

“i don’t fucking want just the tip!” the tears brimming your eyes are growing more apparent, to the point where eren can’t just simply ignore them. “gotta—you gotta let me have it all!”

eren feels like he’s lost his mind: you’re already driving yourself onto his dick, a silent scream falling from your lips as you split yourself open with his sheer thickness. your hands reach to grab whatever they can, one on the back of his searing nape, and the other on top of his own.

the sought out feeling of being full makes your head almost go haywire, stumbling over words as he bottoms out, tip feathering kisses to your cervix, “i’m sososo obsessed with you eren.”

and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s sososo obsessed with you too. despite all of his complaints, there’s still a longing to give you everything you want—need, even. he can’t help but sigh when your walls start to flutter around him, as if your pussy is welcoming him like it always has.

with your guidance, he moves a hand up your shirt and towards to chest, taking your puffy nipples in hand, rolling and prodding at it before messily taking one into his mouth.

“just…right there—”

your words are less than coherent—too busy slamming yourself back down onto him to make any sense to your boyfriend, who looks at you with his brows pulled together. it’s the same look he gives when he wants to say how ditzy you can be sometimes, but you just can’t help it!

there’s a thickening ring of cream near his base, and the squelching sounds of your cunt fucking him dumb overpowers any other sounds in the room. you sniffle and whine as your pace falters, legs giving out from your sporadic bouncing as you fall into eren. it’s almost a wonder how ‘just the tip’ turned into his tip and much more, but you don’t care enough, too eager to grind your hips along his pelvis, barely moving on his length as you play with your clit.

“you can’t do that...” he finds himself mumbling out. how is it fair for you to do all of this to him, making his dick a fucking mess just to finish it all by your self; without him. “c’mon baby, that’s so unfair” he continues to mumble about how ‘unfair’ it is as he grabs a vice hold of your hips, steadying them in place for a moment and lifting you off of him, just to slam you back down with a pace more fervent than before—one that knocks the fucking wind out of your lungs and roughly brings you back down to earth.

and the trip back down hits as hard as his thrusts. the pace is unforgiving, one that you almost didn’t know he had—barring your body to his chest to easily make you meet him halfway as he fucks up into you with low remorse. his eagerness has dick slipping out of your hole and sliding up against your swollen clit, involuntary spreading the mix of your slick and his pre everywhere between the two of you.

“feel’s so good—yeahyeahyeah—don’t stop ‘ren…” you babble run on sentences that would’ve made zero sense had eren not known you. but he does: he knows the way your brain seemed to shut down while fucking you, and how your velvety walls essentially have been warped by his cock pummelling into you at any given moment.

the arch in your back is irregular, dipped beautifully for eren to hesitantly trace lines up and down the expanse of bare skin. your pussy is the best (and only) one he’s ever had, and there’s nothing that’ll ever change that fact.

because who else’s moans will sound like a god-gifted symphony from heaven? who else’s cunt will tighten around him like so the way you do when you’re cumming, translucent white slick dragging down all over and down to pants? who else will whine and cry his name the way you do? who else will make him happily empty his balls inside of them just because they begged and asked?

nobody.

after all, you’re one of a kind.

[reverie-starlight]

just some quick suna fluff bc I’ve been having strong feelings for him as of late.

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff!!!! slightly lovey-dovey. still getting used to writing him so it might feel a bit choppy but he’s fun to practice dialogue with <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“rin, quick- what colour are my eyes?”

he looks up from his phone to see you covering your eyes with one hand. in the other is your own phone, screen lit up with some paused video.

“why?”

you click your tongue and his mouth twitches. “because I want to see how well you know me, obviously.”

he raises an eyebrow at that. “do you really think after all these years I don’t know your eye colour?”

“just go with it!” you plead, and then continue with a “please, rin?”

with all the confidence in the world and zero hesitation, he says “pink.”

the speed at which your hand comes down to hit the bed you’re both sitting on forces a sly grin onto his pretty face. your face is priceless and your eyes are as stunning as ever. it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I swear-“

you look completely done with him, so obviously this means he can’t help but mess with you some more. he puts on a bewildered expression acts like he’s surprised.

“no, seriously, I think you have pink eye or something, babe. I thought you knew already.”

you blink and the annoyed look on your face turns into worry. he watches you switch to the camera app and examine your eyes. “RIN!”

he can’t help but snicker and beckon you over to cuddle into his side. you do, despite being cross with him, and he soothes you with a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry baby, it was too easy. of course I know the colour of your eyes.”

you roll them and nod a bit, sulking.

he blinks and tries to figure out what’s happening in front of him before realizing there‘s probably something else going on. he thinks back to the paused video he saw on your screen earlier and recalls that it was one of those street interviews that tests couples.

he’s seen them, of course, and has always made fun of the guys who don’t even know the most basic shit about their partners.

and then something clicks in his brain. are you scared he’s like them? you should know by now that he’s not, but he knows that sometimes doubt and insecurity creep in against your will, so he holds you tighter and flicks your forehead.

“I know you like the back of my hand, eye colour included. I’m always paying attention to you, even when you don’t realize it.”

you nod again, but you don’t look completely convinced yet. he scratches his chin as he thinks some more of how to make you feel better.

plan A is to flirt, because as much as you deny it, he knows you secretly like the attention and compliments he gives you.

he tilts your chin up to look at him and smiles a little, examining your eyes. “yup, still the prettiest shade I’ve ever seen. I never get tired of looking into them.”

you can’t hold the eye contact for long (you never can and he absolutely adores it) and gently pry his hand off so you can turn away.

“stoppp,” you say in a voice that makes it clear to him you don’t mean it.

because he knows you and all of your cues and he’ll spend every day proving it to you if he needs to.

“getting shy on me? you were so fiery earlier, what happened?”

you knock your forehead against his shoulder. “shut up.” there’s a smile in your voice now and he doesn’t even need to look at you to confirm that fact.

“nah, I’ll keep going. I hate to say it ‘cause you need to be humbled sometimes, but you’re, like, really hot or whatever.”

your head shoots up and you gape at him. “I need to be humbled?” there’s the hint of a laugh at the end of your sentence and he just shrugs.

“hey, I’m not the one who gets off on messing with their partner.”

you gasp and do let out a laugh this time, hitting his shoulder. “yes you are, you dick!”

and you allow the slander because you know suna, too. this is his way of acknowledging that you’re upset, not bringing it up and bringing you out of that state without being dismissive. he always knows exactly what you need and how to make it better.

after a few more minutes of back and forth, you’re giggling into his chest and he’s just smiling up at the ceiling while rubbing your back. a familiar warm feeling settles in his heart.

“better?” he asks.

you sigh happily against him and he feels you nod.

“good, because plan B was pretending to fall off the bed and hoping you laugh.” he’s half joking, but if it really comes down to it, he knows he’d bend over backwards to see you happy.

you snort, but you feel fuzzy at his words. you seem to realize the same thing going through his mind in that moment.

“thank you.”

he’s not sure if you’re thanking him for cheering you up or for simply knowing you, but his response covers both meanings anyway.

“my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

he’s insufferable and I love him and this kinda sucks but in my defence I wrote it last night in like twenty-five minutes.

@dira333 here’s your tag!!!

[pintrestgrl]

hey girly, sending a request for latina reader x drew doing press for obx 4! she’s born and raised in latin america (if you wanna choose a specific country i could say Mexico but that’s my biased nationality recommendation) , so she speaks fluent Spanish and has been in the show since season one, so she’s in the tight friend group with the rest of the cast! I’d love to see their dynamic, maybe a friends to lovers, slow burn type of thing, that could be just a blurb or if you feel like it, it could turn into a series with different scenarios!

cannot wait to see what you come up with<3

hiii i love this idea !! i’m gonna do puerto rico js bcs that’s where my family is from :)

alsooo instead of a usual story, i’m gonna do headcanons

ty for the ask !! love yaaa 💕💞💓💖💘

friends!to!lovers drew starkey headcanons with latina!reader.

- drew most definitely was eyeing you the SECOND you walked into auditions. likeee no shame at all.

- and when he saw you at the first day of filming?? omfg he was cheesing so hard.

- your character was a pogue, so you didn’t get to shoot many scenes with him. but when you did, he was literally silently freaking out.

- he kept breaking character too. it was hard not too when you looked up at him with the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen.

- he rambled to chase and rudy all day on set about any little thing you did.

- after the first season came out, the rare interviews you did have together, he couldn’t hide the smile at his face any time you spoke, looking at you the whole interview.

- and his face when you started speaking spanish to the interviewer? god, he wanted to die.

- this only caused the fans to notice, and to make many, many posts shipping you two together.

- he absolutely hated this.

- why? because all the fans were right. he did in fact have a silly high school crush on you.

- producers picked up on it too. which only meant that you two would have to start doing one-on-one interviews with eachother.

- specifically, ones that celebrity couples usually did.

- the whole world was practically begging you to get together.

- by the time filming for season 2 came around, there was thousands of rumors coming out about you two every day.

- but, he knew it was bound to awkward on set. you two had done all these interviews, heard all the rumors, but hadn’t really sat down and talked about it. any of it.

- so, he did exactly that. the first day of filming the 2nd season, he spoke to you.

- the conversion was probably the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done.

- he told you everything. every tiny little thing he thought about you, down to the details.

- he told you how he had been infatuated with you since auditions, and how you filled his mind everyday on set.

- to his surprise, you took it rather well.

- you smiled at his words, blushed even.

- he almost died, when the words “así, le gusto al gringo?” came out of your mouth.

- you were definitely open to the idea of trying out a relationship with him, he was the cutest guy on set.

- he was fucking ecstatic. the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his whole life, agreed just like that?

- you talked for a few weeks, before he finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

- he showed up to your apartment, a huge ramo in hand, and a sign.

- the whole movie shebang, he even learned how to ask you to be his girlfriend in spanish. just for you.

- you kept it private from fans, and your costars for the first couple of weeks, wanting no interruptions in your relationship.

- there was stolen kisses inbetween breaks on set, shy hands reaching for your thigh under tables, and subtle whispers in ears.

- after the first month anniversary of your relationship, you both hard launched eachother on instagram.

- you posted a photo of you and him kissing at the beach, that you took on your digital camera.

- he posted photos he took of you at your previous anniversary dinner, in the prettiest pink dress.

- both your phones blew up immediately. texts from your cast, from your personal friends, everyone in the world was going crazy for you two.

- so many social media posts talking about you two came out, articles, even your own costars posting about the news.

- he was the happiest he’d ever been. that was, because of you.

- you were the perfect girl for him. all he’d ever wanted.

- little did he know, you’d eyed him since the auditions as well.

[miss-conjayniality]

imagine submissive dilf!jay. you may seem like an airheaded, bubbly trophy wife on the surface. but there’s so much more to you than that. you’re his spoiled princess. he’d move the earth and sky for you. you have him wrapped around your finger and under your spell. your physical beauty may entice him, but your inner beauty entraps him. your inner world is rife with emotional richness that leaves jay feeling seduced.

people always wonder how you’re so chirpy and bubbly all the time. and it’s because your husband is the most doting, nurturing daddy ever to you, his goddess.

there’s nothing he wants more than to please his pretty princess and worship the ground you walk on. it’s your world and he lives in it.

it might seem like he’s the one who “leads” the relationship. but in reality, it’s you that leads it. he lives to serve you. if you want something, he’ll do anything to give it to you like the lovesick little simp he is. you find it quite endearing how such a dignified gentleman like jay can lose his composure because of your beautiful presence. you want those sparkly pink stilettos? jay will get them for u. you want that burberry trench coat? jay’s got his credit card ready. such a good daddy for his pretty little princess.

however, jay does have his bratty moments. you see….he isn’t allowed to touch himself without your permission. but sometimes, when he’s away on a business trip where he isn’t allowed to bring u, he steals one of your pink silk panties and films himself jacking off, whimpering, and shooting ropes with it. he does it at the thought of you, and then texting u the video with a caption like “princess….im so sorry for being such a bad daddy. but I couldn’t help it because i miss you so much”

the moment he sends texts like that, he simultaneously feels two emotions at once - fear and excitement. he fears the power his sweet little princess possesses, yet he’s also embarrassed to admit that it sends a chill down his spine in anticipation of what you’re gonna do next.

you receive the text while you’re out getting ur hair done with ur besties. you immediately noticed the nude thumbnail of the video, leading u to dim your phone’s brightness.

it puts a smile to your face seeing jay so desperate and whiny for you, yet it also has you concocting what to do with him once he gets home.

“tsk tsk….. as fun as it is to see you like this, rules are rules. i’ve been looking for those panties everywhere. I was gonna wear them to welcome u back home tonight. but now it looks like daddy decided to be an impatient slut and take one of my pretty pink panties. beware of what’s heading your way once you’re back,” you respond.

jay follows up with this response - “yes, princess. daddy deserves to be punished for his actions. i am so sorry for being such a bratty daddy to my pretty princess. I shouldn’t have acted on my urges.”

as he aboards his flight, he’s already thinking about how you’ll be tying him up with the prettiest pink ribbons ever - a testament to who you are. sweet n’ sugary, yet deadly.

[luvyunjinxo]

can't sleep at night? - hot girl huh yunjin x fem!reader

CW: alcohol, jealous yunjin, humiliation, rough yunjin 😻, not proofread, recording during s3x, blackmailing, & more lmk if I missed<3

NOTE: guys I am so sorry this came out very very very overdue please understand I am really busy with things right now 💀‼️ love you guys fr and enjoy reading. (also kinda rushed so so sorry).

Yunjin and you have been friends since the day high school has started. you both made eye contact during classes, quick glances, other shit like that. if you both were to be honest with each other, you both thought one another was hot as fuck.

yeah .. so you guys became friends to best friends and nothing more. It has been so fun hanging out with yunjin and you guys told each other anything no matter what. not to mention though, she would flirt with you A LOT. too much signals for you to handle and it was overwhelming. the list of things she would do to you literally

-whenever she hugged you and let go her arms would touch every single inch of your waist, rubbing it in a way

-would be jealous if someone got close to you

-only flirted with you and only you.

it was crazy to think how the hottest girl in the school was your best friend and every boy wanted her. you both made a powerful duo being the prettiest and drop dead gorgeous. at that point everyone knew you both.

after school you both made plans to hang out as always and it was a friday so you both obviously went out to have fun.

"Y/n-ssi! are you done getting ready yet?" she barged into your room with the spare key she had. holy shit. you were more stunning than ever. wearing a dress that complimented your body in so much ways and the makeup that made you look even more gorgeous.

yunjin looked you up and down and her jaw dropped to the floor, drooling over the sight of you. honestly you didn't know you were that hot but in her eyes I guess you were ..

and obviously now huh yunjin could now feel her underwear flood and literally about to drip on her thighs. she was so weak for you.

"o-okay lets go now?" she stuttered out and she held out her hand for you and of course you held it back as you guys left and made your way for the car.

whatever yunjin was feeling, it was getting worse and when she sat down to drive you both to the party .. it started to drip on the seat and she could do nothing about it.

the whole car ride she was just twisting and turning, literally could not stop moving the whole time because of how bothered she was. you couldn't help but ask if she was okay.

"yunjin are you okay? you seem uncomfortable in your dress do you wanna switch fits or are you fine?.." you said as your hand rested on her thigh concerned.

"yeahimfinedontworry" she blurted out fast due to the hand on her thigh 💀 . she didn't want you to know that she was feeling this way so obviously she tried to forget about it.

you guys got to the party and being the most well known girls in school, both of you started to say hi to everyone one by one. speakers blasting drowning out every sound everyone made actually.

this one boy in particular caught you eye though .. and for once it wasn't yunjin ? .. and someone you could actually shoot your shot with because yunjin would keep giving you mixed signals.

you made your way over to him at the small bar in the house leaving yunjin. she was now alone.

"can I have soju please?" you told the person working at the bar and looked straight at the boy.

"your cute what's your name my love?" he spoke.

yeah, yunjin was watching from afar. drinking on a couch while practically eyeing at you two yet still wet from what you did to her. taking shots every time she got jealous.

but anyways you were taking so much shots, gulping so much alcohol your body couldn't even take. So drunk and lost, you got the boys phone number as yunjin watched you waddle your way back to the couch where she was sitting on.

"how was you and that boy over there" she said coldly taking another shot. she had a blank expression on her face, and even though your vision was blurry you could see her looking I guess you could say mad.

"It was soooooo~~ good baby" you said drunkly as you collapsed onto yunjin's shoulder. 'baby?' yunjin thought in her head but suppressed her feelings towards you.

"I-i saw you were wet earlier you thought I couldn't see!?~" saying while playing with her hair now.

"I'm mad at you, not now y/n." "what did I do mommy?.."

mommy?. bye yunjin was down bad.

"let me show you how sorry I am~" you took her hand and pulled her into the crowd of people. everyone recognizing you both immediately, all eyes went on both of you.

your bodies start dancing to the music, yunjin not having it but is still dancing anyways because everyone is watching. your bodies collided and swayed with each other until your drunk ass decided to bend over.

you started throwing it back on yunjin??! crazy .. everyone was now recording and you knew it was gonna go around the whole school but who the fuck cares at this point. you started to grind against her pelvis as yunjin got that wet feeling again.

she looked at you so shocked and when you turned around to see her face, she was pale af. you stopped grinding and throwing it against her, and turned around fully to face you. you grabbed and started rubbing her crotch while making out with her and stopped when you both ran out of breath, while a string of saliva was seen. yeah, the whole school saw it and you two were fucked for sure.

as you guys let go of the kiss you both ran out of there, but to different places. you went back to the boy you were flirting with and yunjin went with her other friends. eventually, yun got bored so she went home feeling so disturbed she knew she had to take care of it. she also knew that you probably weren't coming home tonight since you were really drunk so she knew she could take care of herself.

yunjin arrived home crashed onto her bed and started to relieve herself obviously. unzipping her party outfit, she opened her laptop to watch the dirtiest thing you could ever see, I'm pretty sure you get the idea. she started to rub herself all over imagining it was you from what happened at the party.

now touching her sensitive buds, she started to pinch and roll them between her two fingers while her other hand made down to touch herself.

"fuck! y/n y-your the death of me"

she continued to watch the dirty video on her laptop close to coming thinking it was still you and once she finally climaxed the filthiest words came out of her mouth literally.

as soon as she finished screaming her lungs out she went to sleep naked, laptop fully open, and most of all cum soaked all over her body.

she thought you weren't coming home tonight? yeah she should've thought again. you came quietly through the front door and drunkly laid yourself next to yunjin on her bed. just staring at her nothing else.

seeing her curves and every other perfection of herself. thats it really. simple, you wanted her. badly. you needed her to fuck you and use you up like the slut you are yeah? mhm, I thought so.

so, trying not to, haha, and at the same time not trying, you started to touch yourself just like how yunjin did not to long ago .. having to cover your mouth and close your legs not to make any sound really.

you can just hear your muffles of screams that were audible, but never knew it would wake her up. every time yunjin would move, you let out a little scream because you never wanted your best friend catching you get off to her wouldn't you?

not fighting it anymore, knuckles deep into yourself, you let out your screams and was so close to coming, so close to the edge and close to finding the pleasure.

obviously it didn't happen. yunjin caught your ass.

"y/n? what the fuck are you doing fucking yourself on my bed huh? after what you did tonight?"

"such a fucking slut."

those words came out of her mouth while you screamed and let yourself go.

"I-im sorry."

"I-im sorry" she mocked you.

"yeah if your sorry bend over the bed, I don't care if you're tired or can't take it anymore."

"yunjin b-but were just best friends right?.." you really didn't wanna think that to yourself but you let it slip out of your mouth anyways.

"oh so that's all you think we are huh. let me show you who the fuck you belong to." as you bent over the bed, she sat down next to your ass and started to finger fuck you from behind.

"how would people think of this? getting fucked by her own best friend?" she started to record you.

"I'll show everyone how much of a slut you are if you misbehave once tonight" she slaps your ass as you whine. she shows the camera your face each time she hits your ass and you have never been more humiliated. "are you getting off to this?, your dripping babe."

she collected the slick on your pussy and licked it right off. slamming to fingers in and out of you again in such a rough pace. would never go in a consistent pace either.

slams in, and slides right out.

"yunjin! please~ I'll be good, I'm yours and only yours mommy please, please just make me come." lies was all that could go through yunjins ear.

"you would want that boy of yours to fuck you like this right? I might as well just leave and call him."

"no please! I just want y-you~"

well that was too fucking bad y/n. she walked away with a smug smirk on her face as she left the room and locked it, leaving you all alone still bent over with juices all over your thighs. so pathetic.

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Ateez Sending You Nudes

Hongjoong: Artsy as always. He’ll probably research boudoir photography before even trying so he can get the best outcome with his pictures. He’ll really get into the zone and try lots of different poses and probably a tone of different outfits and different states of undress. He’ll have some that come out with him looking so soft and submissive, and others where he comes out looking domineering. He’d probably organize them into different sets and send a few from a certain set at a time to get you in the mood he wants.

Seonghwa: He’d probably take the prettiest, softest nudes you’d ever seen. Likes to wear something pretty while taking them. Likes to pose with lots of pillows on the bed. He’d probably have a good few close ups on his lips, his neck, his hands. He’d love to take really nicely posed ones and would probably search about poses beforehand so they would look nice. He’ll also take so so many and only send you the best ones so they’re all such good quality and stunning and leave you speechless.

Yunho: A solid set of nudes. He knows how to take a decent dick pic and let’s be real here, any pic of his hand wrapped around anything is already hot. He knows this too, so when he’s really trying he’ll take a bunch of pictures that feature his hands undressing himself and send them slowly through the day just to drive you crazy. By the end of the day when he actually sends the dick pics you’re already ready to jump him.

Yeosang: His nudes are only good because he’s pretty. If it was literally anyone else it would be awful because no thought was given to lighting, so many of them are too dark to see anything well. Some of them are just a little blurry. He definitely tried to pose in at least a few of them but some part of him got impatient towards the end, clearly just worked up and wanted to get the pictures sent in the end. Luckily he’s so stupidly hot that the pictures come out better than they have any right to be.

San: Mostly sends dick pics. And also post workout pics. Or post shower. Usually he does his best to get a nice looking pick of his dick and sends you a message about how much he needs you. But when he’s feeling like doing a little more he’ll take a series of pics taking off his clothes after a workout and then after the shower, towel low on his hips and running a hand through his wet hair asking how fast you can come over to his.

Mingi: Look, Mingi has a nice dick. You know that. You’ve seen it. But how on earth he managed to take a terrible pic of it you have no clue. Flash on, out of focus and blurry, somehow the worst pic of his dick he could have possibly sent. You tell him you love it anyways cuz he tried. A for effort, right?

Wooyoung: You’re like 90% convinced he went and got a boudoir shoot done. If not, he definitely employed one of his members to take the pictures for him and you’re not sure he’d tell you who if you asked. Highly posed with really good lighting. There’s a good balance of provocative photos and photos that just show everything off and leave you reeling.

Jongho: It’s just so tasteful. He obviously took them himself but he put some effort in. He’s posed, not overly posed but enough to make it look nice. He’s not showing everything off, leaving at least something to your imagination, or rather memory. Probably loves to pose with the sheets covering what you wanted to see most but with enough of an outline that it’s on your mind all day.

[sunflowers4life]

Challengers - Lunch? :)

hello! challengers has been on my mind a lot lately, as I really enjoyed the movie + I absolutely love Mike Faist. I hope you enjoy this, I really tried to give some Tashi appreciation, as I feel in a lot of Fics, she ends up being the villain in some way. as a warning, there is one mention of Y/N - Hope you enjoy!

pairing: art x reader

Art Donaldson was many things. A tennis player, a Stanford student, but something he thought many people seemed to forget, was he was still a young boy. Among the time he spent at tennis training and in his classes, he felt as though he hardly had any time to catch up with Tashi or Patrick, or even a second to sit down and just breathe. Now, don’t get it twisted, Art doesn’t hate his classes, and he of course does hate tennis, but everyone needs a break occasionally. He wishes he was like Tashi, who seemed to enjoy the pressure, the time constraints, as though it helped her stay focused and on track. 

Today, he and Tashi had decided to meet for lunch. Patrick was still on tour, and wasn’t expected to appear for a week or so. Art pushed open the doors to the cafeteria, ready to enjoy his well deserved break, when he noticed Tashi was not sitting alone. There was a girl, wearing a Stanford hoodie, sitting next to Tashi, as the two happily chatted. Art was a bit shocked, as he almost forgot that of course, Tashi had friends outside of him, Patrick and tennis. After realising he had been standing still in one spot for an embarrassing amount of time, he grabbed his food, 3 churros, and finally approached the table. It took Tashi a moment, but she turned, and smiled. “Art! Please, this is Y/N, she’s in one of my classes.” Art offered his hand to the girl, and she took it gently, shaking it almost with the effort of a sloth. At that moment, Art considered she may be the prettiest girl he had ever met. She wasn’t dressed stunningly, simply adorning the red Stanford hoodie, and a pair of flared leggings, but she had this air of peace and calm around her. 

“So, how’d you and Tashi meet?” He posed the question in your direction, and you smiled shyly. “Well, really, it was at one of your tennis matches. I was watching in the stands, and Tashi came over, introduced herself, and we found out we shared a couple of classes.”

“So you’ve watched my games?” Art's face sported a cheeky smirk, one that felt teasing but an innocent nature behind it. 

The hour flew by, and Art found himself at a state of enjoyment he hadn’t felt in weeks. Throughout the hour, he felt he had met someone who just got him. The conversation followed, with never a minute of uncomfortable silence. He learnt about your interests, what you were at Stanford for, and most importantly, your phone number.

As you went to stand up, he suddenly remembered the churro that had been laying on his tray. He grabbed your wrist gently, handing you the churro. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink as you smiled brightly, almost as though you held the essence of the sun in your face, giving him a kiss on the cheek before turning around.

He watched you leave the cafeteria, his eyes not leaving your form until the red of your hoodie disappeared around the corner. 

“Glad you enjoyed yourself.” Tashi grabbed her tray, as her and Art approached the bins. Tashi had a glint in her eye, and it took Art a minute to realise she had done this on purpose. “You know, when it’s your wedding day, I’ll be expecting a thank you.” Tashi let the comment flow from her lips as she grabbed her racket and made her way towards the courts. 

Art was at a stand still in the middle of the cafeteria, looking at his phone, feeling like a teenage boy again. He stared at your number, lightly shaking his head, before smiling genuinely.

That night, he pulled up your number, shooting you a text that simply stated

“Lunch? :)” 

[brotherwtf]

Smutty prompt: can we have Gale getting his first blowjob?

oh God the poor boy would BREAK God rest his soul he will be missed dearly

picture this: them fooling around in flight school and up to that point they'd only done sloppy hand jobs or juvenile grinding of clothed hips against each other, lips haphazardly pressed to each other as they try to keep their noises down

John's the one who bravely asks if he can suck Gale's dick, says it will probably feel good and Gale's so fucking keyed up that he agrees, nodding almost desperately as John slowly, lethargically, drops to his knees, keeping eye contact with him the entire time

Gale's rock hard, hot as a live wire and he's already panting by the time John undoes the clasp of his pants, practically shoots his hand into John's hair when he wraps his hand around him, panting and biting his lip to keep the whines in, but it's getting harder and harder when John keeps looking at Gale like he's the damn most beautiful thing he's seen

and when John demurely wraps his lips around the head of him Gale has to clench his fists and bite his lip to not shout out right there, wills every atom in himself to not make him come when John starts to tongue at his slit, crying out and immediately clapping a hand over his mouth, doesn't want anyone to hear what John is doing to him

it doesn't seem like John has never done this before, he inches down slowly and bobs his head like he's had practice and Gale pants and bucks his hips up pathetically with every movement of John's lips, desperate and giddy for it it's almost embarrassing

it's unlike any other feeling he's had before, hot and wet pressure on his cock with John's throat pulsating as he pushes against his sensitive palate, taking it so well Gale's sure that he's done this before

but he can't think of that when John chokes so pretty on him, little gags and small coughs as he looks up at Gale with the prettiest and wettest eyes he's ever seen, small groans vibrating on his cock that Gale's gonna come any minute

John wants Gale to come on his face, which almost makes Gale bust right there, but Gale insists on coming down his throat so he wouldn't have to deal with the mess because guess what this bad boy is still REPRESSED

anyway in a later chapter when Gale sinks to his knees and sucks John's cock I feel like he would be so worried about doing it right but can't seem to notice how much John is enjoying this, God when will this boy learn

[spiderrmax]

soft moments

synopsis: soft moments shared with the main four word count: 500ish (each) author's note: i don't believe in proofreading. ive never made a mistake. ever

stan marsh

Stan's movements are sluggish as he enters your bedroom. Without care, he unties the laces of his sneakers, but making sure to leave them in a place you won't trip. Heaving out a long sigh, he collapses clumsily into your messy bed; your comforter is at the foot of your bed, and your pillows are placed haphazardly. Stan buries his head into one, and finds comfort in the familiar smell of your shampoo. You enter in behind him, and snort, amused, at how he's sprawled out. He has no energy to give you a snide comment, instead using that effort to take his beanie off, allowing his black hair to sprawl around his head, acting as a halo on your pillow.

The day's weight is heavy on you too, but you take more time in removing your shoes. Unlike Stan, who went to school in sweatpants, you have to change into something more comfortable. With his gaze in your pillow sheets, there's no discomfort in allowing yourself to find mix-matched pajamas to relax. He seems to sense when you're done shifting, and rolls over onto his back, watching as you finish pulling your shirt over your head. When you turn to face him, he shuts his eyes, just open enough he can just see your blurry figure.

He watches as you gently brush his hair from his forehead, clearing a spot so you can press a soft kiss onto it. Not wanting to give himself away, he doesn't allow a grin to show on his face, but his heart speeds up anyway, like it always does. When you go to pull away, most likely to let him rest, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist, pulling you down into the bed next to him. The scared yelp you let out does elicit an amused chuckle from him, and you can only shoot an unamused look his way. You don't pull away, lured in by his warmth.

One of his hands stays wrapped around you, while the other shoots to grab your comforter. He struggles for a bit to get it comfortably over the two of you, and you're forced to help throw the blanket. You fluff it up in the air, and it slowly falls over the two of you. Once it's situated, Stan pulls you in closer, gently placing your head into the crook of his shoulder. Despite being so strung up from the day, you find yourself relaxing into him, worries melting under the protection from the comforter and being in his arms. His breathing evens out pretty quickly, eyes shut and his features soft; you find yourself mapping out his skin, despite having every mole and freckle memorized from previous naps. He's prettiest like this, you think, when the world can't ruin everything. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer, and you grin. You fall asleep smiling, grateful to be in love and to be loved.

kyle broflovski

You know your attention should be on the copy of Hamlet in your lap, but you find it much more entertaining to admire your boyfriend as he reads the same book. His brows are furrowed, trying to decipher Shakespeare’s words, and his nose occasionally scrunches when he doesn’t understand it at first. Green eyes skirt around the page, going back and forth; he pauses to tab specific lines.

Sitting at the opposite end of the couch, you wish he decided to close the gap, most likely sitting far away in hopes you’ll stay focused. Long fingers turn the page, and you watch as he pauses, before making eye contact with you. A loving grin adorns your face, painting his pale skin pink. You laugh at his flustered state, scooting closer to him, subconsciously.

He’s unamused, rolling his eyes and nudging your leg with a sock-clad foot. After that, his attention is back on the book, intending to get it finished. You admire his dedication, wishing your brain was able to be enticed by the tragedy. A sigh escapes your lips, as you glance back down at your book. There is a lingering thought that you'll have to get a synopsis online.

Kyle must notice your struggle, and taps your leg with his foot again. He's smiling at you, shifting his left arm a bit, an invite for you to come lay. There's no hesitance, your copy of Hamlet falling onto the floor as you move to enter his embrace. Once you're situated, using his chest as a pillow, his left arm wraps around you, reaching again to open the book.

He opens earlier than he was, noticeable by the fact he's already tabbed some of the pages. You grin, giddy that he doesn't mind going back for you. Once he's found the first page you were assigned, he begins reading it aloud. His voice is deep, but lacks the emotion the characters should be having during their monologues. It's still perfect, and although some of the meanings fly over your head, the words stick clearer now. His left hand leaves the book to trace designs in the fabric of your shirt; it only leaves that spot when he needs to turn the page, returning as quickly as it left.

The words sound nice on his lips, and you can't help but glance up at him. He looks nicest like this, focused yet relaxed. You know if you vocalized this he would disagree, arguing that you aren't looking at him at a flattering angle. Again, once he's finished a page, he turns to glance down at you; your stare not subtle, but still loving. He rolls his eyes, but smiles despite himself fondly. Gently, he pushes a strand of hair out of your face, before pressing a kiss to your temple.

After, he returns reading aloud, and you snuggle closer, wrapped entirely in him.

eric cartman

Your legs swing as you sit atop of Eric's sink, waiting for him to find the product he plans to use. A headband is situated on your head, pushing your locks back to keep them out of your face; you're sure you look ridiculous right now.

Recently, Eric's taken an interest in skin care; buying a surplus of face masks and serums to use on his soft skin. He prides himself in the knowledge, and with that hubris, asked for you to partake in his new hobby with him. Not without limits of course, your boyfriend is always very particular with how things are done. He's taken care to pick out the products he'd think were the best for your skin, and hasn't let your hands near his product, saying you'd use too much. You don't mind, really, enjoying how gentle his touch gets as he massages the product into your skin; he's never this soft.

Eric lets out a noise of triumph before returning with a clay mask, and when he places it down next to you, you see it's meant to provide a deep cleanse. In his other hand is the tool meant to apply the mask, and you sit up to make his work easier. 

Slowly, he opens the container, and you can see visible usage of the product; you grin a bit at the realization he doesn't mind sharing a favored product with you. The mask itself is green, and you watch as Eric slowly dips the applicator in, and gets enough product to start coating your cheeks. It's cool on your skin, but you don't back away, allowing Eric to paint your face slowly. His brows are furrowed in concentration, biting his lip as he concentrates to cover your face evenly. Soon, he's painting over the bridge of your nose, before he's having to get a bit more from the container.

The process continues as such, and you're grateful that the green mask is covering most of the heat in your face. His fingers linger at your jaw, having to tilt your face to get better access to certain parts of your face. His stare is concentrated, but occasionally it softens when he backs up to admire you. Eric's hair is pushed back with a headband too, and once he's finished with the application with your mask, begins applying his own.

He's much quicker with applying his then he was when he was doing yours, swift with thinly coating it onto his face. By the time he's done, certain patches of the clay have dried on your face. The mask is patchy as you look in the mirror, and you can't help but stick your tongue out at your reflection. Your silly faces cause Eric to begin laughing, and it becomes a competition to make the craziest faces as you two wait for the masks to dry.

kenny mccormick

It's not rare for you to find yourself on a roof of a building with Kenny. It's where he tends to go when the weight of the world gets too much; recently, he's extended that invite to you.

There's not a lot of words exchanged as the two of you sit up there, finding solace in the night sky. Occasionally, you point out constellations, despite not knowing many of their names. Sometimes Kenny and you make up your own names for the stars, laughing at some of the ridiculous things you guys can come up with.

Tonight, neither of you say nothing; the day too long for jokes. You're still curled up together, your knees under your chin. Kenny is leaned back, propped up on his arms, with one being behind your back. You still enjoy looking at the stars, mapping them out quietly, allowing yourself to focus on something that isn't the stress of your typical day. Every time you turn back to look at Kenny, to quietly check to see if he's doing okay, he's always staring at you. Despite being embarrassed to be under his gaze, you can't help but notice how nice he looks under the moonlight, adding highlights to his blonde locks. He smirks, almost cat-like when you meet his eyes, and you quickly turn back to look at the sky.

It's cold, like it always is in South Park, but tonight the wind seems more brutal. The long shirt you're wearing isn't a lot to keep out the piercing breeze. It bites at your face, and in return you tuck your chin closer to your knees, hoping to provide some warmth. You can feel the rise of goose bumps on your arm, and try to grind your jaw to prevent your teeth from chattering.

Kenny shifts beside you, and you look over just in time to see him taking off his orange parka. He holds it out to you, still grinning, and you hesitate before taking it. You glance at the black shirt he's wearing, which seems to be made of a thick material, and he nods at you, reassuring. Slowly, you take it, and unwind yourself, sacrificing your minimal body heat for the warmth that radiates from Kenny's jacket. The sleeves hang off your arms, allowing your hands to be covered too.

Once you're situated, Kenny pulls you close, tucking you into his chest. Teasingly, he grabs the hood and pulls it over your head; you allow it to happen. His left arm wraps around you, and he continues to use his right to support his weight. You reach for the hand wrapped around your waist, squeezing it as to say thanks. Just barely, you can feel his lips press softly on your forehead. You grin, relaxing further into his embrace and his warmth.

Despite the lack of words, you can feel the love radiating off of Kenny.

[astravv]

one of your girls || alhaitham x stripper! reader || multi-part

warning(s) : smutty fic, reader is a stripper

pairing(s) : alhaitham x female! reader

summary : modern au story. alhaitham owns a strip club where almost all of his girls have a thing for him. it’s no wonder since he’s so handsome. his club catches your eye. easy money, and dancing. something you are good at. a week into the job, you start to notice that alhaitham has been keeping an eye on you. maybe he’s taken a liking to you?

a/n : this idea came to me while I was listening to

the weeknd’s song “one of the girls” so if ur the type to listen to music while reading fics, there’s a good song to listen to for this fic.

—

you strut around the pole, swinging yourself around for all the men to see. you were your favorite pair of lingerie tonight. after all, it was a special night. it’s your birthday. some people wonder why you would work on your birthday, but you like to think that you’re treating yourself with all the stacked up cash drunk men like to throw at you.

after the song is over, you quickly collect your cash and continue to the back of the stage, giving a small smile to the next dancer coming on stage.

she was one of the more snarky girls. she was stuck up and always has an attitude. she’s also a blonde with a damn good body, so of course the men love her, and she knows that. she always makes you and the other dancers feel bad about how much you make when you see her fat wad of cash she brings off of stage every night. boss seems fond of her too. she brings him good business, after all.

you up to your assigned vanity and locker to lock up the cash you received for the night.

“going home soon, newbie?” one of the brunette girls asks.

“yeah actually, i better be getting home.” you shoot her a small, soft smile. she nods and goes back to cleaning up her makeup.

“wish you could’ve stayed longer, i just got here.” the brunette sighs, setting down her powder brush she had been using to fix her makeup up.

“i know, tonight is my birthday and i just want to do something special tonight.” you reply, grabbing your normal clothes out of the locker.

“well happy birthday, newbie.” she exclaims.

“thanks.” your voice trails off. you quickly get into your comfy clothes and start turning your vanity off and tidying up your area so you can leave. you then place all the cash you had made in your purse, and head out the back entrance. alhaitham always said to all the girls to leave out the back entrance because he didn’t want random intoxicated men bothering us and following us home. no one was allowed behind the office buildings, and even if they came back there, we had really good cameras.

before you walk out the door, you hear a familiar voice call out for you. you turn around to see alhaitham leaning out of his office door, urging you to come in.

you nod your head and follow your boss into his office. he pats the chair in front of his desk, signaling for you to sit down. you start to worry if you’ve done something to upset him, but nothing comes to mind. you’ve been on time to work, left on time, and have done good out on stage, at least you think so.

he sits down on the chair at his desk, looking into your eyes. you awkwardly sit yourself down in the chair and dust your pants off, waiting for him to speak.

“so y/n. i’ve taken a liking to you.” alhaitham begins, smiling softly. you’ve rarely ever seen the boss smile. granted, you haven’t been here for long, but still. nothing but a blank stare ever comes from him. “customers seem to like you too, they’re constantly asking when you’ll be out next.”

you anxiously nod.

“don’t tell the other girls, but i think you’re better than all of them. you’re gorgeous, have a nice body, beautiful eyes.” he tells you. “now i am just blabbering on, but it’s true. you are one of the prettiest girls i’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

alhaitham gets up from his chair and walks over to you, staring into your eyes the whole way. he reaches his hand up to your chin and pushes your face up, so he can get a better look at you.

“so pretty.” he mumbles.

“alhaitham, i-“ your voice trails off. he lets go of your face and smiles softly again.

“what’s wrong, babydoll?” he whispers.

“isn’t this unfair to the other girls?” you question, quickly standing up from the chair.

“it’s not like they’re competing for my love. they’re all here to make money. if they wanted my love they’d make more direct advances like that one allie girl.” he replies. “she’s obsessed with me. i don’t feel the same about her. she’s just like any ordinary girl. boring.”

“yeah, i guess.” you murmur under your breath.

alhaitham grabs your arm and pulls you close, his lips so close to yours. you both join into a soft, yet passionate kiss. your hand trails up his arm and squeezes it.

alhaitham moves back from the kiss, still staring longingly into your eyes. he kisses your neck, biting at the soft flesh, making little soft moans escape through your lips. your hand grips onto his arm harder, digging your nails through his shirt.

then there’s a knock on the door. alhaitham lifts his head up and looks towards the door.

“who is it?” he calls out.

“allie.” a girl’s voice responds. “i need to talk about my schedule.”

you roll your eyes, then look at alhaitham who also looks very annoyed. he pulls himself away from your grasp and goes to open the door. you walk behind him, then quickly push yourself through the doorway, ignoring allie’s dirty looks.

you piece yourself together and push the back door open so you can head out to your car.

once you get to your car, you immediately throw yourself in and start collecting your thoughts. the thought of alhaitham’s lips on your neck was enough to drive you insane, especially the whole drive home. you almost completely forgot that it was your birthday, but maybe that’s the reason why he was acting so weird towards you. maybe it was a special birthday thing?

the thought of it just being a birthday thing upset you. you didn’t want this crazy incident to be a one time thing. you needed more of alhaitham’s touch.

once you got into the parking garage of your apartment, you spot a familiar face. it was a taller man, he was handsome, but clearly looked intoxicated. you realized he was one of the men at the club who was staring so closely at you.

you bit your cheek, hoping that it was just some random coincidence that he lives in the same apartment complex as you. but you always had an open mindset to creepy men. especially with the job you have.

the man presses the elevator button to go up. he waits patiently and then enters the elevator once it gets to the garage level floor. he heads up, and all your worries seem to be gone.

you continue on, pressing the elevator button to go up too.

[lovebugism]

Would you/have you done one about steve comforting a reader who is scared of fireworks?

hi, love! thanks for your request! here's another v self-indulgent fic!! — the one where steve calms you down when have a hard time adjusting after the "fire" at starcourt tw for mentions of ptsd (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Steve has the prettiest backyard you’ve ever seen. It’s adorned with a sparkling blue pool amidst a patch of lush green grass. It’s embellished with various holiday decorations that only add to its grandeur — yellow fairy lights, sparkling streamers, and paper decorations in varying shades of red, white, and blue.

His parents always go all out for these kinds of get-togethers, no matter how insignificant the holiday feels in comparison. The adults are gathered in the house now, tired after dealing with teenagers all day, getting wine-drunk in his father’s den.

The teenagers in question are spread out along the yard, most of them out front. You can see the kids through the gate, chasing each other with sparklers. You and Steve sit apart from all that, almost achingly drowsy after spending all day in the sun. 

The boy lies on his back in the hammock and presses you to his chest. His wide palms smooth up and down the length of your back, over your shirt. The fading Hawkins Tigers t-shirt actually belongs to him, and it swallows you whole accordingly.

Everything smells like sunscreen and pool water and his cologne. It entwines with the scent of his father’s whiskey and lingering smoke from the grill. The nostalgic smell of a dewy summer night lulls you to sleep entirely.

Steve tilts his head to his shoulder to watch you. There’s a distant smile playing on his lips he doesn’t even know is there. You look so cozy pressed against him, but he can tell you’re not sleeping. You shift every couple minutes, furrowing your brows like you’re waiting for slumber to come. 

He’s tired, too, but not enough to stop watching you.

“Hey, Stevie!” Robin shouts across the yard.

The boy forces himself to pull his eyes off of you. He turns his chin to his shoulder to look at the sandy brunette girl. Her sneakers are slotted between the holes of the metal fence. It props her a few measly inches off the ground, and she wraps her hand around the top bar of it. 

Steve’s scolded her a thousand times about that. He doesn’t want her to get stuck and break an ankle. But in true Robin Buckley fashion, she refuses to listen.

“What?” he calls back.

She bends at the waist over the fence. “You guys wanna come shoot fireworks with us?”

Your eyes are still closed. You hope she can tell from the distance so she’ll think you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t like fireworks — you never have, really, but especially not after Starcourt. The memory of that night makes your breath quicken and your heart race as your body buzzes with a misplaced adrenaline. 

You’re more scared of Steve saying yes to her plea. It’s one thing to be scared, but being scared without him holding you is exponentially more terrifying.

“I’m good just watching you guys!” Steve shouts in return. 

You feel the words rumble in his chest. A sigh of relief spills from your mouth in a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Robin rolls her eyes at his response, grumbling something under her breath as she hops off the fence.

Steve winces as he watches her go, still terrified her shoes will get caught and her ankle will snap and they’ll have to go to the emergency room.

She makes it down safely, though. The fear still lingers within him, like the smell of smoke you can’t ever get out of your clothes.

“I’ve had enough of fireworks for a lifetime,” Steve mumbles more quietly to you. Still rubbing your back with one hand, he takes the other from behind his hand to smooth over your arm. His warm palm gives you a reassuring squeeze on your forearm. “I don’t how these shitheads are doing it, honestly.”

His laugh rumbles in his chest beneath you.

You try your best to muster a smile even though he can’t really see you from this angle. You’re just trying to convince yourself you’re not as scared as you really are.

“Me neither…”

Your eyes follow Dustin and Lucas with an acute attentiveness. One of them holds a long candle lighter while the other clutches a cylindrical firework. Your bones still ache with exhaustion, but you couldn’t be more wide awake. 

You’re heart whoosh, whoosh, whooshes in your ears at an increasingly rapid pace when the two boys crouch beside the firework.

Their faces glow with the orange flame for a few moments. When they hurry off in the other direction, you tense in preparation for the loud noise you know is coming.

The booming crack from the sparking gunpowder frightens you, anyway.

Your heart lurches in a fleeting panic, your body jerking even though you know you have no reason to be scared. Your sudden jolting scares Steve, too. The loud noise wasn’t as frightening to him as thinking you were about to fall out of the hammock.

He holds you tighter and laughs softly to himself — not at you, exactly, but at his own misplaced alarm. “Shit, babe. You okay?”

You exhale a deep sigh against him. “Yeah. Sorry, I just— I wasn’t expecting it to be so loud.”

You feel stupid for phrasing it like that. Of course, fireworks were loud. That was sort of the whole point, wasn’t it? But you don’t know how else to explain your fear to him. Sudden and thunderous noises just scare you more than they used to, far more than they should for the average person.

Steve doesn’t need an explanation, though. You don’t need a reason to be scared of something, or to tell him what the thing you’re scared of is. He just doesn’t want you to feel scared at all. About anything. In a perfect world, he could protect you from all the wars you wage in your own head.

“Want me to tell ‘em to stop?” he asks with pinched-together brows.

Your answer is immediate. You hold him tighter, as though keeping him from moving, as you shake your head against him. “No. Don’t do that. It’s not their fault. Fireworks just… they remind me of—”

“I know,” Steve coos gently to you, fingers squeezing softly at your arm again.

It’s not like you needed to explain it to him. He was there for all of it, watching with tears in his eyes as a possessed Billy Hargrove dragged you through a burning Starcourt Mall — gaze glassy with gunpowder and smoke and the thought of losing you.

His aversion to fireworks isn’t as rooted in fears as yours is. More than anything, he just hates the smell of them now. Maybe because he was only throwing them that night — at the big, fleshy, melting spider monster who wanted to kill them all.

He wasn’t the one who tasted death that night. Not like you, anyway.

Another fireworks cracks in the air.

The sound blasts and echoes through the whole yard. It sounds like gunshots — loud, repetitive, and merciless.

You weren’t paying enough attention to expect its arrival this time.

Suddenly, you’re back at Starcourt, getting hunted by secret Russian soldiers. The smell of blood and gunpowder stings your nose and makes tears burn the backs of your eyes. You wince and squeeze them shut, holding tighter onto Steve. 

A Renaissance painting of July 4th, 1985 is stained on the back of your eyelids.

The vibrant colors of Starcourt Mall are made of neon signs and bright orange flames. A monster made of flesh towers over you, sparkling with alternate-dimension slime and the vivid fireworks cracking overhead. 

It’s been a year since then. A lifetime. Hardly a second ago.

Your nose smushes into Steve’s shirt as you clutch onto him for dear life.

His free hand — the one not already splayed against your back — leaves your forearm and rises to your face. His palm is wide and warm as it engulfs your ear. He presses you into him, not too intensely, but enough to drown out the nightlife of Hawkins in July.

The scent of him covers you like a blanket. He smells like chlorine and body wash and chocolate ice cream — soft and warm like a summer night. Like heaven. Like home.

He brings you back to life without trying.

You finally turn to look up at the boy after spending several minutes avoiding his gaze. Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his shirt as you do so. Your tired eyes meet his smiling face.

“Better?” he asks with a crooked, pink grin.

You can’t really hear him, not with both your ears muffled. But you can read the word as it spills from his pink mouth and feel it rumble in his chest.

A gentle smile quirks the corners of your lips. You nod.

He holds you like that the rest of the night. He props his golden forearm against his chest and keeps his palm pressed intently against your ear. It doesn’t totally cancel out the cracking fireworks, but it helps to keep them at bay.

Your eyes dance along the velvet starry sky as fireworks burst in rainbow colors against it. They don’t remind you of death and dying anymore.

You feel held. Like you can finally move on from it all.

As long as you’ve got Steve Harrington holding you, at least.

[wri0thesley]

The push and pull between Alhaitham and Kaveh would be absolutely maddening, IMO. I love how the dynamic you've crafted. Like, Kaveh would hate to see Alhaitham punishing you with a belting, buuut it does push you into Kaveh's arms so nicely. Sure, it's hard to hear your cries after Alhaitham puts you over his knee and belts you thoroughly--but the way you run to Kaveh at the first opportunity after, letting him wipe away your tears, get you an ice pack for your ass... there is a bright side.

cw: captive reader, physical punishment, manipulation, belting, yandere, dub-con, non-con.

He knows he should do something. In the grand scheme of things, the infraction against Alhaitham's rules that had gotten you this punishment was not all that heinous. You had done worse things - and, in fact, had sometimes even managed to talk your way out of worse things, Alhaitham wanting to reward your rationality and sensible things you said, instead of letting your emotions guide you.

But . . .

Ah. He hates seeing you like this, your face all tear-stained and your lips swollen, the robes that Alhaitham lets you wear around the house - nothing more substantial, because you would surely be less inclined to escape if you were too embarassed to step foot outside the door even if you could - discarded to one side, your body bare. Alhaitham, for all he professes to be a feeble scholar, is more than capable of wresting you down and having you bent over his knee, the tender flesh of your rump on display for both men to see.

You shoot Kaveh an agonised look, your lovely mouth trembling, your entire body a tightly wound line of tension. This will not be the first time that Alhaitham has belted you, but that does not mean Kaveh wants to see it. That he enjoys seeing it.

No. Kaveh does not enjoy the physical punishment that Alhaitham inflicts, insistent that it's a perfectly valid way to teach you lessons and that you learning pain comes hand in hand with disobedience is the greatest training he can employ and the most sensible course of action. He has to be there for it, because despite it all Alhaitham is the landlord and in charge of such matters as this. He wants Kaveh to see just how his effective methods net positive results, in the hope Kaveh will take a leaf out of his book - but Kaveh does not have to enjoy the sight of you bent over the scribe's lap, the thwack of fine leather against your soft vulnerable parts, the hiccup of pain that echoes around the room as Alhaitham waits patiently for you to count the strikes aloud.

Physical violence does not arouse the architect. He feels bad for you; knows that he will toss and turn tonight remembering the desperation you'd looked at him with when all Kaveh could do was give you a sympathetic smile, a twitch of his brows.

But for all of that, when Alhaitham is done with you and is buckling his belt again with a curt; "I hope you'll remember this lesson next time," Kaveh feels the briefest thrill of excitement. Alhaitham takes himself off - presumably to do something about the tent in his trousers, because the scribe does at least understand that having you in that way right now wouldn't be good with you associating intimacy with anything positive - and you stay on your hands and knees for a moment, trembling, before you sniffle and look up at Kaveh with the prettiest gaze he's ever seen. Diamonds glittering on your lashes, your bottom lip a wobbling pout that he longs to kiss.

Kaveh takes the opportunity to swoop.

A hand carding over your hair, wiping your tears, soft hushings falling from his mouth as his thumb catches another tear before it can fall.

"I know, darling," Kaveh murmurs to you, pulling you into him. It's no time at all until you're curled in his lap, your head pressed beneath his chin. You do not even reach for your robe as you would if he were Alhaitham, a hundred times more comfortable with Kaveh than with anyone else. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the top of your head and breathes in the scent of your hair, remembering how it smelt on his pillows. "I'm sorry he's such a brute to you."

"H-he's awful to you, too," you whimper out, as if the situations are in any way comparable. But Kaveh just gives you a sympathetic smile, another stroke, his arm tightening around you as if he can draw you in from the horrors of the world. You trust him implicitly, a situation he has carefully manipulated by sighing and occasional drops about his life, by listening to you when you sob and hesitantly admit things to him. By bringing you sweet treats that go against Alhaitham's wishes (he has a nutritious meal plan in place for you; treats are supposed to be earned, and you are not at all obedient enough for him to want to give you Padisarah Pudding just yet). By being there, by being an artist with a tender heart and saying to you how much he wishes he could help, but he too is under Alhaitham's thumb or he'd have no home at all-- "Kaveh--"

"I know," he soothes, letting one of his hands gently trace your spine, a touch that is intimate and affectionate and everything that Alhaitham is not. Your body presses against him in desperate search of his comfort.

"H-he's going to make me sleep in the cage again," you whisper to him, you eyes downcast. "H-he'll say he can't trust me whilst he's sleeping."

A twist in his heart that he hates to admit is triumph. You're always desperate after a night spent in the large cage Alhaitham had procured when he'd first brought you here. You suffer from night terrors already, but locked in those iron bars with nobody to press your body against - you're so needy for affection you'll practically initiate carnality yourself. Kaveh is always careful never to push you on that, and so when you do need it, if only to remind yourself you're still human . . . you always come to him, and not Alhaitham.

The scribe has tossed him a bone without even meaning to.

"You poor thing," Kaveh murmurs instead, sighing. You wince as you shift, the bruises and welts that are forming on your bottom clearly already causing you pain. "I'll get you an ice pack, yes? And I'll sneak you something sweet?"

Your fists clench into his shirt as if he's the only thing in the whole world you can hold onto.

And though he knows he should hate it, should resent himself for manipulating you like this, he cannot bring himself to do so.

[hellobunny044]

Yours. | One shoot

************************************************************************

An original Haikyuu! AU Pairing Sakusa Kiyoomi and a female oc (I haven't thought of a name, so she is all of you female readers)

short desc. just thinking of post time skip Sakusa meeting the girl of his dream who is a reporter ??? (idk that came out of nowhere) and... I'm bad at describing my work properly so um... expect yourself to find some hopeless romantic trace, cringe-worthy remarks, and a little toe-curling smut at the end - and so, i wish you all good luck bearing with my work. heh heh.

⚠️warning!! 18+ Minors DNI. NSFW content ⚠️

word counts. 13107 words, good luck :)

***********************************************************************

Yours

Supposedly, Sakusa couldn’t possibly remember the last time he favored gatherings, people, and things that would eventually connect him to the public. The search for the word attention had long been eliminated in his terms. If only, that day he did not stop for an interview.

It was the first interview he had ever done in his terms being someone who genuinely hates being put in the spotlight. It was nothing, Sakusa just felt that he had no place in society other than a position as an opposite hitter on a volleyball team... anyway, getting back to the talk, well, actually his first interview was not as what of a disaster as he pictured it.

His first interview was still so vivid in his memory to this day: why he agreed to one (all because of that idiot Atsumu and a particularly tangerine-haired shorty), about the questions, his answers, and most importantly, the who part.

If only he did not stop for that one interview, perhaps his mind would be a little quieter these days.

It was because of a sports reporter for a national television channel that his mind turned into somewhere too noisy for him to hide from the world.

His monotonous and comfortable world fell into a massive transition since the intersection brought them. And don’t get it wrong, Sakusa is one of the many who don’t believe in love at first sight, to tell the truth he would gladly abuse the idea. He would a thousand times rather believe in how good luck charms work than believe in such clichés, until that damned unidentified, unfamiliar oddness struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Logically speaking, she wasn’t really the prettiest girl he had ever seen. And instead of wearing a revealing outfit like some of the reporters on their flirty attempt to get an interview with him, she just wore a track jacket.  Track jacket sets, navy blue in color, white sneakers, a small black watch on the left wrist, hair tied in a ponytail and her hair wasn’t something that of a distinguishing tangerine color though she has some bangs, ideally parted just right, her eyes are the same color as her hair which was deep brown, and less make up. If he would say something, compared to most female reporters that he had ever seen, she almost looks like someone who was forced to do an interview yet there is something very bothering about her.

Something about her was just irresistible.

She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, yet she knew how to carry herself. She was not the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, yet her eyes whisper of forgotten familiarity. She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, yet when she laughed, it was as if there was a sprinkle of amusement in the air, and before he knew it, his smile unfolded.

From then on, his head never stopped fussing about her. And on the question “Do you have a girlfriend, Sakusa Senshu?” During his second interview with her, Sakusa’s answer came with a firm, “No.”

That was definitely not for the public. Rather, the answer was for her. To let her know that Sakusa Kiyoomi was single, and perhaps, she could consider that.

Another thing about this woman was that she was a professional at her job. Her eyes never went to check on him when the camera was off, but instead, it was Sakusa’s hobby to steal glances in her direction until one time on an off-air interview session that he voluntarily accepted, the PD suggested that they talked with each other while waiting for the set to be ready.

Her gaze then met his, for the first time, behind the wall that they were two professionally connected.

Her smile unfolded, acknowledgement. Her head bowed, politeness and formality. Her voice warm, pleasantries. Then she turns to the PD to say, “I think I know enough about Sakusa Senshu for there is more left,”

She laughed. How sweet. She has a good laugh. He likes that.

“There is though,” Sakusa said.

Her eyes were on his, before briefly glancing at the staff and returning, “You have a question?”

Sakusa didn’t bother answering that one. Purely an impulse from within him prompted by his inadequacy in small talk, his question was blunt, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

He had enough time to see the gradual change on her face just like how she had enough time to take his question in before reacting.

“Oh?” Her voice low, followed by a small nods before, “No.”

The answer came after some consideration, or perhaps confusion—he didn’t know, don’t ask him whatever. He’s never really good at this kind of stuff in the first place.

Sakusa nodded.

“Why do you ask?” She asked, her gaze on him.

“To make sure,” Sakusa said.

He saw the slight change in her eyes to his words, like something flickering, and didn’t miss it.

“That means, I can get your number without a problem, right?”

Her answer came a little too late for it to be, “Um... yeah... I’ll give you my business card later,” then her smile unfolded just as the frown in her brows, but something about it amusing to the sight, “when we’re done.”

Sakusa hummed. His gaze did not leave even though she already did. He didn’t hide the way he looked at her curiously, studying every inch of her face that wasn’t pretty but somehow wouldn’t leave his head silent every night ever since. When her eyes returned to him briefly, Sakusa hadn’t left, reluctant to.

****

The station corridor is where she gave her business card as promised. Her smile unfolded, but this time it was a little awkward when her hand gave it to Sakusa. Rather than her business card, Sakusa lingered on her eyes and everything he could capture on her face.

And perhaps feeling too much of a stare, she frowned and asked, “What is it?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sakusa shook his head. His eyes leaving as he felt something in his stomach reacting, uncommonly but not uncomfortable, odd yet amusing— who put some damn butterfly and asked them to flap their stupid wings there? He didn’t bother hiding his broken smile, why would he?

“Why are you smiling?”

Her eyes to him, his smile gradually leaving yet it somehow lingered in his eyes, in contrast to the seriousness he masked himself with.  

“Why? You don’t like that?”

He waited quite a while for her answer, and in that long time their eyes locked, captivating each other, and spoke to each other in a language that was easier to understand. Yet then her answer was a rejection.

“Hm.”

She got him.

****

Sakusa knew that she was lying. Obviously she lied when she said she didn’t  like it when he smiled, because otherwise she wouldn’t have been here to see him on the weekend.

To be honest, she could have refused in many ways. Immediately rejecting him outright when he proposes this whatever date, canceling the appointment at the last minute, or pretending to have forgotten about their plans. But instead, the same woman who said that she didn’t like his smile, showed up in a pretty dress, hair styled differently, smelling a little more sweeter, and some hints of makeup on her face.

It was during their first meeting behind the what-so-called professional wall that all the things that seemed to be silenced breaking free, evident through gazes. Suddenly, Sakusa was no longer a stranger to conversation. He suddenly forgets that in general, he genuinely hates conversations, especially those that are called small talk, stupid pleasantries. However, who was he to choose? Before him is a sure thing.

It was also during these encounters that he became familiar with clichés such as questions about the weather, about complimenting the taste of coffee after the first sip or also when seduction was channeled through gazes, and some new things that had never been taught to him. And the one enlightened him the most, was that when he complimented her on her looks, her eyes went to other places but his that then another smile unfolded. 

His heart pounding in joy, a long rhythm of comfort and celebration, yet desperate to jump into her hands, wanting to be held. 

It was clear that the more time passed into something old and decrepit, everything that was done was thick with every element of deliberation.

Sakusa returns to his more accustomed silent self, letting his eyes convey his feelings to each second that is left to tick on its own. His eyes on her, her eyes on him, three, six, nine seconds... isn’t it easy to fall in love? Then after enough of looking at each other as they enjoyed the ecstasy of falling in love, they left each other being even sure of what they wanted.

Sakusa’s smile unfolded when he returned to obviously watching her. The woman, intrigued by his gaze, frowned and didn’t forget to smile back at him as her hand put her cup down.

“What?” She asked, and Sakusa shook his head.

Her brow furrowed, and her gaze on him, as if demanding an answer that was obvious between the two of them. Sakusa is clearly reluctant to compromise, a man of few words yet his eyes speak a variety of languages that she can easily understand. But at times, Sakusa can also be the most vocal and outspoken person she’s probably ever known, and an example of this is when he bluntly asks:

“You don’t have a boyfriend?” he asked, incredulous. 

His words were like a spark, igniting a flame of amusement in her. She laughed, the sound spilling like a cascade over the rim of her coffee cup. 

“Are you really asking that?” she countered, still chuckling. 

His tone and eyes flat, yet flickered with amusement, “What else am I supposed to be asking, then? I’m not a reporter,”

Sakusa Kiyoomi is definitely not a sweet talker. His words would be thicker with sarcasm or teasing rather than smooth remarks which was probably something she sought from men. And amused by his sarcasm, as if all too familiar with it, the woman smiled.

“Of course,” she said. “Rather than asking questions, you’re someone more used to answering, aren’t you, Sakusa Senshu?”

Sakusa smiled, drunk in the way she played her tone and words just right. He hummed in agreement.

Her eyes returned to him just before she started, “There’s something else, like perhaps am I your type, or something like that…” 

He liked it when her eyes momentarily returned to half-heartedly trying to explain a misunderstanding. 

“Well I am clearly not your type,” she mused, her lips quirking in a smirk. He liked it more how she decided to keep  things the way it is the next second, clearly not hiding the seduction in her sarcasm. She is a quick-learner, and he loves it when she takes his remarks and plays it like she owns it. 

Sakusa didn’t miss a beat. “And what makes you think you’re not my type?” he shot back, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

There was a beat of silence between them, each gauging the other’s reaction. The tension was palpable but not uncomfortable. Finally, leaning his head into his palm prompting the arm of the chair, that damned question slipped out of his mouth mindlessly.

“Am I your type?” he asked, his voice soft and calm, knowing what it could cause in what was to come between them.

His eyes didn’t left any movement she made since the question came, as if anchoring her in his gaze and telling her that there was nowhere to hide from something so unspokenly obvious in the air.

But sipping her coffee was her way of hiding. Winning the silence that was Sakusa’s territory was also her way of avoiding the hand that had almost caught her. How he didn’t bother hiding his feelings from her eyes was a victory for her instead, at least to prolong this little catch-me-if-you-can until the last thread of his despair snapped.

Then after quite some log of stealing much of his time, and enough consideration to decide how much she wanted to reveal, she met Sakusa’s gaze head-on as she set the cup down. 

“No,” she said simply, her voice matter-of-fact. 

Sakusa’s lips stretched into a grin. “Liar,” he accused playfully, voice low and gentle.  

She shrugged, the motion fluid and relaxed. “It’s true, though,” she said, meeting his eyes again, this time smiling.

For a moment, they were both silent, simply regarding each other over the rims of their coffee cups.

Sakusa was the one breaking the silence, asking, “What’s your type, then?”

She locked him in her eyes, wooing him with her eyes yet rejecting him outright through a short, asserting answer, “Not you.”

Sakusa was not backing down, he took the challenge and stared right back. He hummed,  “Clearly,”

Just know that cupid did a very great job; they’re just testing their limits.

****

This time her dress was dark red, knee-length and quite covered, and her hair— oh, he didn’t know why women spent their money on stupid things like some big bow clips to wear on the back of their heads, but it gave the impression that they were lovers on their way to have brunch at a fancy restaurant— well, he would love to take her to one, it’s just, let him drink all of the moments during this stupid cringe-worthy date for a little longer, though. He wanted to know her in different ways, from different perspectives, through the traces her feet and fingers left in every corner of Shinjuku. Today it was Shinjuku, next week he could probably take her to Harajuku, then to Shibuya, then have dinner in Roppongi. Perfect.

On their way to a café, Sakusa had asked, “You mean what you say?”

She turned, “Which one?” smile lingering on her face, eyes searching.

Sakusa was silent for a while. Not considering what he wanted to say, rather, taking her in: the look in her eyes, her face, the full picture of her standing before him, halting and waiting for him to come with her, every bit of her in that moment he hung in silence. When his answer came, Sakusa hid a smile behind his flat tone, “That I’m not your type,”

Something just flickered in her eyes and he didn’t miss it.

He knew the answer. It’s just that asserting is important. Oh, and he had yet to add how lovely it was to see her trying to fool him despite the tenderness evident in her eyes.

“Am I still not your type?” Sakusa pressed, his tone laced with a hint of playfulness.

Her eyes on him, letting the silence take over, also letting Sakusa think that he was in control of the situation. Finally, she answered, a clear hum that made the stupid butterflies in his stomach go mad— seriously get the fuck out of there, he’s going to break a laugh.

A huffed laugh, amusing laugh, as he muttered, “Liar,”

She sighed, smiling, “Well, everyone needs a little distraction on weekends.”

“Oh? I’m being promoted as the little-distraction-on-weekends, I see.”

Her gaze on his and the world disappeared on their senses.

Sakusa was the first to break their eye contact as he walked ahead of her. 

“This way,” he said, as his hand opened the door and let her in.

It’s nothing, really. It’s just about two people connected in an unspoken desire, enjoying the sensation of falling into an endless abyss called love, fully aware of it, yet in terms where they are only two little fingers away from each other, they never turn to each other to express what is obvious. And just know when you see cupid with a deep frown on her brows, it’s because of these two.

“What about you, Sakusa Senshu?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“What?”

Her eyes were everywhere but his when she asked, “your type, I mean.”

Her gaze returning, familiar with how Sakusa had waited and would remain so for some time before he answered.

“Red dress, a reporter,” he replied, immediately without hesitation.

Seconds ticked by in silence, their eyes still locked, but the silence was chased away by an amused huff of laughter. Her eyes returned to him when she finished exploring the other side of the cafe, her hand somewhere on her nose, still not recovering.

“It’s true, though,” Sakusa said, his eyes serious and sincere tracing her gaze, as far as she would allow.

She shook her head, “That’s the lie.”

“Really?” He retorted, amused.

She hummed.

“How would you know?”

Her eyes on his, and she smiled, “You like European women,”

Sakusa’s brows rose at her reply, his eyes trailing to her gaze slowly leaving his the second he decided to think about her words further.

He pulls backward in his head, traces back and quickly searches for something about European women then remembers that one time in an interview with some of the other Black Jackals players, Miya Atsumu, that muscle-brained stupid fox, blurted out a statement about how “Omi-kun likes blonde European women with sexy eyes,” when the reporter asked about their Ideal types. He remembered now.

The frown on his forehead was with a smile that spread across his face, amused. “You... Did you look for some things about me?”

Her eyes returned to him, a pause, and as if it took a lot of energy to say something, she took a deep breath, “Well, my job requires me to look for some things about some of the people I’m going to interview, like some key words and highlighted remarks for reference. And yes. Since you’re one of quite a few I’ve interviewed, I did. I did and I found out some things about you, a lot,"

Sakusa nodded, unconcerned with her overly convoluted explanation, “And if so, you also know that it wasn’t me. That was Miya,”

“Answering on your behalf,”

“Answering on my— no—”

“Since you’re mute,”

Sakusa stopped when she chuckled.

“I’m joking, okay?” She said.

“On which part?” He asked.

When she didn’t answer, Sakusa sighed. “Miya didn’t answer on my behalf,”

“I thought you were agreeing afterwards?” She retorted.

Which was true, “Yes– but,”

Meeting his gaze, her brows raised, “No buts.” She said.

Sakusa frowned, “What?”

“We don’t need buts, Sakusa Senshu,” she said, her smile sweet and thick with innuendo. “You don’t need to explain anything to me in the same way I don’t need to explain why you’re not my type."

“Well– logically speaking,” Sakusa agreed. His eyes on hers, she was sipping her coffee after shrugging playfully. 

“The last one’s incorrect,” he said. When her gaze returned, he continued, “you are my type.”

There was a missing beat before she retorted: a sigh like she was wincing as she closed her eyes and slightly scrunching her nose, “Too bad, I’m not even a European woman.” She looked him right in the eyes as she said, “and you are not my type to begin with.”

Sakusa laughed. He nodded, humming in agreement, “Keep doing that,” his words a gentle mutter of intrigue, “you’re doing a great job.”

She echoed him in a small laugh and returned to her coffee.

The silence that slipped itself between them was another face of comfort, and perhaps a distraction as she said. And in this long-lasting silence, Sakusa’sgaze doesn’t leave her. There was determination in his gaze; something about finding out more about her through the loudness of her silence, a tenderness that didn’t bother hiding, a certain amount of visible affection, and a hint of possessivity.

Shutting out the world was probably the wrong choice, and before he realized, they were being watched. And finally, someone interrupted.

Standing before him were a couple of girls, much younger than him, staring at him with heart eyes, almost drooling.

When he found out that they were Black Jackals fans as they started attacking him with questions about the clubs and the other player with familiar remarks, not to mention that they were getting closer and about to touch him, a horror threat to his privacy, Sakusa immediately went on high alert. His body was pulled away, and the frown on his forehead deepened when he had to cover his face and look away from the camera phone of one of them who was already happily taking a selfie with him.

Without thinking, he quickly grabbed her hand and led her out of the cafe. Then as they expected, the girls ran after them while shouting his name hysterically. They could still keep running, at least until the girls got tired, or Sakusa could carry her and keep running until the girls lost track of them.

Asking why Sakusa Kiyoomi is popular is like asking why romance books are so popular with girls. 

Although he wasn’t the topic of conversation as the hot player like Miya Atsumu, something about Sakusa made girls crazy about him, although perhaps one of the few girls who didn’t like him was this woman.

His senses were too busy alerting for the worst to realize that they were very close.

Later, after making sure that the hysterical screams of those girls faded, Sakusa let out a sigh of relief. As his head lowered to ease his beating heart, and their gazes locked, he realized that it probably wouldn’t be at ease for some time.

The silence that had fit itself between them now was the spokesperson for their feelings that were spilling out of each other’s eyes, and honestly their position was just perfect: her back pressed against the wall, her body locked by his arms, one near her head and the other somewhere that would probably be close to her waist. From then on, in the silence that turned into the ticking of a newly found despair, Sakusa kept highlighting the part that they were in somewhere quiet, far from the public, away from distractions, not even the sunlight could bother them here.

The narrow space created an intimate enclosure, intensifying the connection that seemed to crackle between them. Time seemed to slow to a standstill as they stood there, suspended between reality and the raw, unspoken desire that enveloped them.

Besides underlining the chance in his favor, Sakusa also didn’t stop convincing himself that she was lying when she said he’s not her type— and really, he doesn’t want to ruin anything if suddenly something more than just staring in this damn situation happens. He was willing to put up with it, as long as they could still see each other next week. 

That was a story on a different page, one where her eyes don’t look like they are calling him in.

As the tension mounted, Sakusa’s movements became slow, sensual, as he leaned in closer, his lips just mere inches away from hers. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, electrifying their senses. But just as the world around them faded into a blur, she looked away and said, “We should—”

The fuck? She even for a moment looked like she was mirroring something in his eyes, he swore she was breathless and her words were barely above whisper– damn. 

Sakusa huffed a disbelieving laugh, hiding the embarrassment, humiliation, and the fact that he was so vulnerably lost in the thought of them finally having their kiss. 

“Hotel?” he asked, returning to her. His frown deep but his gaze amused.

Her frown melted into a playful expression, her laughter restrained. “No,” she asserted with a teasing glint in her eye. “Correct yourself before joining me.”

A chuckle escaped Sakusa’s lips as he reluctantly relinquished his grip. He trailed behind her, an invisible thread connecting them. 

Catching up, Sakusa corrected himself, “there’s a good caffe three blocks from here,”

They walked the streets of Shinjuku once more, their laughs intermingling, their eyes holding a secret language that only they understood. 

They entered another cafe, one with dim lighting and comfortable couches that seemed to invite them to stay forever. They sat close to each other, their fingers almost touching, as they talked about everything and anything. 

“You still don’t like the way I laugh?” Sakusa asked, his tone light, as if he didn’t really care about the answer.

She looked at him for quite a while, her eyes taking in every part of him, from the way his hair fell over his forehead to his dark, piercing eyes. It was as if she was studying him, trying to see beneath the surface of the laughter and the smiles.

A flicker of mischief dancing in her eyes. With a subtle lie, she responded, “Hm.”

That was the lie.

Sakusa hummed in understanding, accepting her unspoken truth. His  gaze never leaving hers.

*****

“The setters are undoubtedly the favorite,”

In the bar where they met again,  what the point was of saying such a thing in front of him? Well, women— he knew where the last stop of this conversation would be. A subtle hum was his answer he took a sip of his beer.

“Kageyama Tobio from Schweiden Adlers and Miya Atsumu from your team are on the constant topic,”

Sakusa hummed.

“But Miya-san is undoubtedly the darling of the fans,” she commented.

Under his breath, Sakusa muttered about the familiar call he had just heard. There was no professionalism in that referring, and Miya-san was too much when he was plainly Sakusa Senshu.

His eyes on her, studying every inch of her face in this topic, studying every fiber of the muscles in her face in every second he braced himself as they entered this topic. He didn’t feel like competing with the hot setter or the whatever-darling of the public, but why should she talk about Miya Atsumu in the first place, though?

Another thing to underline during this conversation was that possessivity in his eyes had become thicker as time grew. And she was not unaware that there was a loud displeasure in his silence as he listened to the whole pleasant description that she delivered so neatly about the blonde idiot— oh obviously it tickled the jealousy hiding behind the possessivity in his gaze.

Amused, she asked, “What?”

His tone remaining in a collected demeanor when he asked, “You seem to be enjoying yourself,”

She cocked an eyebrow, still amused, “Excuse me?”

“Well, he is comfortable in the spotlight— he loves it, I bet,”

“I told you, he’s the darling of the public. Reporters are competing with each other to get an interview with him,”

“Which include you in it,”

“Exactly,” she said. Her eyes on his, “I make a living by who I interview, and it could be Miya-san.”

Sakusa’s possessive nature immediately surfaced, and a frown creased his brows. He almost clicked his tongue when once again he heard the referring. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Sakusa finally spoke up. 

“Do you really want to do an interview with him?” His eyes on hers, watching.  

“I mean, he’s a great player,” she started, taking the snack they ordered before. His eyes trailing her every movement and stopped in her eyes when she swallowed, ready for another mess she was about to make in him. 

“Miya-san is an outstanding player to begin with. I was looking at some stuff about the MSBY Black Jackals and came across something about the best high-school setter in Japan who had participated in the Youth— ah, the setter of Schweden Adlers also went there if I was correct,”

“I was in youth too,” His competitive nature fired up.

“Yeah, but you’re not a setter, Sakusa Senshu,” She replied, her tone calm and collected. Not bothered at all, purposely.

Her pointer played with the rim of her glass, tracing it as she continued, “I’ve done an interview the Adlers’ setter,” her pointer tapped gently on where she stopped, her tone smiley, and when he shifted, she was actually smiling as she said, eyes tracing the memory of that interview, “he was such an angel.” and she returned to his eyes, a moment before she took a sip of her beer and looked away.

That was the most bothering part.

When she finished, she said, “I think I might have to try harder for an interview with Miya-san.”

He did not like Miya-san, and he swore to let that damned Miya-san knows that he hated him with every fiber of his wellbeing.

“I’m telling you, he’s just an idiot, a simpleton,” he prompted his head with his hand and watched her. 

“And hot,” she added. 

He hummed in agreement and asked, “what about me?” 

Her eyes hesitating, inferior to the piercing gaze of Sakusa’s dark eyes since the last time she referred to Atsumu as Miya-san. And despite still continuing with what she believed was right for her to be doing, her fingers playing with her beer glass told him that she wanted to run from that question, knowing that this time if she wasn’t careful enough, her mouth might betray all her efforts to be in control in their little game of pushing gears.

“What?” 

“I didn't get any of those things coming from you?” he elucidated, his voice low. His stare locking, sharp yet tenderness lurking behind his dark eyes, possessivity an evident truth.

“Like... just, hey, Sakusa Senshu, not Sakusa-san obviously, is such a good guy. Or that I am good at my play, since Miya-san obviously takes all the crunchy parts for himself.”

Her eyes widened, and she burst into laughter, unable to contain her amusement. 

In that moment when time ticked in the clear ringing of her laughter, Sakusa kept his gaze locked on her, taking in the lovely sight of her laughing. 

He was actually intent on playing a little annoyed, but all the walls he had built collapsed when her laughter broke out. And like someone had sprinkled intoxicating smiling powder, he echoed her laughter through a vulnerable smile as his eyes traced all of her.

This time, however, he did not forget to tell her, “I like your laugh,” he said, “since the first time.”

When she finally recovered from her laugh, and when her eyes were tender in silence staring into his, Sakusa is to play the annoying little jerk that he wanted. 

“Though you still hate my laugh and I am not as hot as Miya-san,” he said.

It took a while for the response to come, and for that she smiled as she said, “Well, I think you’ll have to live up with the fact that Miya-san is hotter than you,”  

Sakusa scoffed, childishly retorting with, “yeah, just like the fact that he’s just so amazingly stupid.” 

She giggled. He was ready to sip his beer when he said, “Just tell me if Miya-san is free and up for an interview. If you’re willing to lend me a hand of course,” 

He turned, almost wincing, “Seriously?”

She shrugged.

Sakusa stares at her for quite a while, only to sigh then shake his head. He then turned away, and took a sip of his beer. When his eyes returned to her, he was surprised to find her waiting for him. Her gaze was warm, and welcoming. The significant warmth that bloomed in his chest at that sight almost had him wincing, and his heart was struggling to get away, desperately begging to be released from his body to jump into her palms.

For a while they were immersed in silence, this was the part where they ran away from their egos and immediately declared what was obvious between them. Through their eyes, in the protection of the loud silence, they were free to express what they had delayed through words.

Then in a moment of vulnerability, when her eyes flickered, her hand reaching out without hesitation, as if familiar with all of him. Sakusa automatically closed his eyes and let her, betraying his ego just once would not make him die. In fact, he would probably die if he dared to stop her hand from going where she wanted of him.

He felt it somewhere in his hair, and opened his eyes to see her hand pulled back, dropping something he couldn’t catch somewhere on the floor. His eyes returned to hers, “What is it?”

Before him, the woman smiled as she said, “I already threw it down,”

Sakusa frowned.

“Just some stuff,” she said.

Sakusa immediately left to search for any trace of it. His eyes only briefly on the floor to return and conclude, “you just want to touch my hair.” 

He didn’t miss the way she smiled, and somehow she didn’t even try to hide her smile anymore. But even then, she was still the stubborn woman he knew would say, “No.”

Sakusa stares: taking her in, considering, making sure. Making sure that she was lying. Then the next second was about his hand reaching out to him, his fingers hesitating as they came into contact with her forehead, bringing his eyes back to her briefly before he brought his fingers to just lightly brush her bangs. The blush on her cheeks wasn’t of the alcohol, it was for him.

"Is there something in my hair?" she asked.

Sakusa looked up at her when she said, “No. I just want to touch you.”

Something flushed in her face, the look in her eyes wavered, probably of the alcohol. Clearly it was the alcohol because Sakusa, on the other hand, was also fighting so hard to resist the huge urge of kissing her right away. He shifted, immediately. He was about to take a sip of his beer when he said, “I’ll let you know if that stupid fox is up for an interview.”

“Hm?”

He returned, her head tilted while looking at him in confusion, innocence.

“Miya,” he said, still having enough urge to emphasize, “your Miya-san.”

His eyes did not leave her, locking onto her even as he sipped his beer.

Later when this whatever-date ended, she was drunk enough to be left home alone, so, after calling a taxi, Sakusa decided to tag along and make sure she got home in one piece.

Arriving at the apartment where she lives, Sakusa makes a little dash to open the door for her. And even though she preceded him with her hand opening the door smiling, being familiar and friendly to the taxi driver in the thanks she said, he waited for her. His hand outstretched to help her up, he leaned down. And instead of taking his hand to help herself with, both her hands were brought to cup his face and she warmly brought her face close to his, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek after tracing all the way before it with her warm breath.

“I had a great time.” Her voice was just above a whisper, and somehow fucking unrealistic. Then she pulled away, enough to stare and say, “Thank you, Sakusa-san.”

Her hands are still there on his cheeks.

The world stopped, and Sakusa froze. No, he didn’t. He didn’t freeze. Rather, his entire body was warm. He was so warm and he knew that his face was probably as red as a fuji apple.

Rather than using his hands to help herself out of the car, she helps herself out of the taxi, missing how Sakusa follows her with his gaze, everything she’s done since the moment after she said his name in a familiar calling. Don’t blame him, blame her for making him lose his cool, his composure, his damn self-control– are they something now? Like… what? Was that made her his girlfriend, no?

Sakusa immediately said, “I’ll call you later.”

The woman paused, turning to face him again. She blinked and shook her head, “Not sure If I’m sober enough not to say some incorrect things,”

“You’re correct, I promise,” he replied.

 Her smile unfolded, vulnerable.

*****

Sakusa had never considered that Miya Atsumu was his rival since she had left her trace on his cheek that night. Her kiss was definitely a sign of the new thing they were bonding over. Although no cringe-worthy words like I love you, or stupid confession session happened, they were two adults who loved each other and that was enough. Honestly, after that, Miya Atsumu’s name disappeared from his head.

But today was a different story. At an MSBY Black Jackals match, and she interviewed Miya Atsumu with a beaming face full of enthusiasm, the story took a different turn. Miya Atsumu earned his place on the top list of his rivals— and he swore, from the moment he saw how his hand touched hers as he reached for the mic for whatever he was going to do after that, something in the back of his neck snapped.

He no longer had enough good mood left to linger there, shoving Bokuto Kotaro’s hand off of his shoulder as he walked away, coldly ignoring Hinata Shoyo. Far enough away to exclude himself from the boisterous crowd filled with media, his fingers typed out a message to her, a meeting in a place away from everyone’s attention, where there was no Miya Atsumu.

After the message, he waited in a corridor at the back of the gymnasium leaning against the wall, his arms folded in front of his chest. Greeting the footsteps he heard from afar, his eyes shifted, taking in her arrival which started with how she stopped to reply to what seemed to be a very important message, until eventually their gazes met and her steps quickened towards him. No fair, she was so cute.

“Sakusa Senshu,” she should know that right now is not too good a time to call him that way.

Sakusa straightened up to meet her, seeing the smile on her face that broke out sincerely when she said all the praises for him and congratulated him on their victory. His heart warmed at the thanks for a good game, but he was defeated by the intoxicating jealousy. Then without thinking, he blurted out, “I see you finally got to do an interview with Miya,”

“Oh, yeah. Well,” She smiled, nodding. “I didn’t expect that he would stop in front of me either.”

Sakusa scoffed, “Really? Aren’t you the one who’s purposely lining up on the first row to get his attention?”

Eyebrows raised, she frowned, “Huh?”

Sakusa scoffed, “In the end you are only after Miya.”

And her answer that came had only made everything worse, “Well, everybody’s after Miya Atsumu Senshu after he serves us a good game and I was just one of many reporters looking for the star of the match and I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that he was the MVP of this match. He scored 3 aces— and, Sakusa Senshu, I don’t think I need your help to interview Miya-san—“

“You clearly don’t need my help for that,”

Sakusa didn’t care about the hint of confusion in his gaze, his words flowed like a stream of water, “Did he get your number after the interview? Oh, I bet he insisted on shaking your hand,"

“Excuse me?”

Sakusa returned to say, “Which hotel did he ask you to meet at?”

Her brow furrowed deeply, “I don’t like the direction you’re going. This is dangerous,”

“Not as dangerous as you are,” Sakusa cut in quickly, “and I don’t like how easily you go to one person after being satisfied toying with the other.”

“Toying? What are you—“

Sakusa approached, towering over her as his sharp eyes locked onto her, “Yes, toying. You seem to be really enjoying yourself, huh? Knowing you had me under your little fingers while you made your way to another man– what do you want, really? You want me, you—” Sakusa paused, his feelings churning at his dead-end words. He began again, “—you kissed me and I don’t know if you’re greedy enough for someone else or if you were just after Miya from the start,"

There was a silence that made Sakusa even more uneasy. After the answer comes, she laughs, and that’s not really not good. “We’re  just doing an interview,” she said, “After all, weren’t you the one who said that you’ll let me know if Miya-san is up for an interview?”

“No, you’re not going there right away,” Sakusa shook his head, adamant, “you missed the part where you had to tell me if you were greedy enough to want me and Miya at once,”

She  frowned, "What are you talking about?"

Something on the back of Sakusa’s neck snapped, and he was sure that was the last thread of his despair, of his patience, and of his rationality, all at once. 

“My feelings for you are so obvious—”

“No. That’s not—”

“— in fact even blind pig could tell that I stare at you like I would go crazy if I didn’t—”

“—what I mean—”

“— but you had the balls to play with it like it was nothing!”

“No—what?” Something flushed into her eyes, “Repeat yourself,”

Sakusa immediately responded, “no. You heard it.”

Her brow furrowed, “What did you say? Playing with your feelings? And what else was it- toying?" She leaned closer, her gaze challenging, “Try telling me If I wasn’t the one kissing your cheek— and what, playing with your feelings? Do you even know what you're talking about?"

“That’s where all the trouble started,” Sakusa exclaimed, almost snapping.

“What are you talking about, Sakusa?”

All formality, warmth, and respect left her words as she called him by his last name.

“You kissed me and left with Miya, which hotel he asked to meet you at, huh?"

“Sakusa, that one’s—”

“Or did he manage to touch you somewhere before you came to me?”

“Are you really up for the rest of it?”

“And here I am, getting only the scraps of the trace of his hands on you,”

“Sakusa!”

“My feelings for you are real!” He snapped, missing and not caring how she flinched, and subconsciously pulling away when he approached her closer.

“They are fucking real! Ever present, not a past tense! They’re always there to put up with all of your cooing, and tell me I’m hopeless but I sit and dream of the way my hand would traced your face and stupid me for thinking that you would have just a slightest bit of mercy towards me and my feelings but fuck you because my feelings are real for you—” 

“So are mine!”

In the seconds she let drown in silence, she gave him a chance, and his silence was too long for her to deal with. However, before it was too late he quickly pulled her  as she was about to exclude herself from him. The slightest jerk of his grip brought her back to him, into his eyes.

“Did you mean it?”

She did not answer, deliberately silent to punish him. And rather than having any intention of saying anything, she wanted to leave.

His grip tight against her will to break free. Then a little tighter than before, he pulled her, bringing her back to his eyes that were almost overflowing with all the unspoken truth that had been trying to be silenced. His tone broke as he said, “Tell me you mean it,”

Her eyes leaving him while her hands tried harder to break free but he was clearly too strong for her to handle half-heartedly. Her eyes returned after her last attempt was a repeated failure, “You know what, I didn’t. I didn’t mean any of the thing I said—”

The next second, her breath caught in her throat when he had locked her waist possessively.

“You liar,” And though his tone cold, his eyes vulnerable.

Their lips collided in a heated embrace, tongues intertwined and hands exploring every inch of each other’s bodies. In this kiss, where all the feelings that were previously taboo in words, all poured. Sakusa’s grip tightened as he pulled her closer, his breath hot against her skin. It had been a long time coming, this moment that they had both been avoiding for so long. But now, everything seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in each other. The world around them ceased to exist as they were consumed by their love for each other.

For so long, they had both fought against their feelings, denying the attraction that burned so deeply within them. But now, with every brush of their lips, every touch of skin on skin, they knew that it was all worth it.

Sakusa, melting in vulnerability under her touch, kissed her like there would be no tomorrow for them, like this was the last day that the world would exist. There was despair in every trace he left on her, but he didn’t rush her, he made sure every touch was enough and providing. Before they knew it, they had stumbled upon the wall, but his hand was quick to get behind her head.

They were fragile, succumbing to this moment.

Her hand gripped somewhere that she could grasp of his jacket, only to fail as she was too lost in their kiss, then she went to trace somewhere on his neck, squeezing on the skin which he responded to with a hum. Her other hand went somewhere on his stomach— really, he didn’t want her to stop touching him, he didn’t want her to be finished with him, he didn’t want this kiss to end. He wanted to forever drink from her scent, fight for air with her, dance with her lips against his, and feel her knuckles tracing every inch of his body. It was only after what seemed like forever, with their breath catching, that they finally let go of each other.

Panting against his mouth, she said, “I think now’s the right time for…”

Sakusa immediately connected the last word, “hotel? Yeah. Me too.”

His hands were on her waist and behind her head, caging her possessively, as he caught his breath, while hers were on the back of his neck and somewhere on his stomach. Again after that, unbidden, they went hand in hand to welcome each other into another kiss that this time was softer, unrushing, something calmer and warmer.

But then just suddenly, Sakusa abruptly pulls away from the kiss, having her whining for the sudden loss of contact. His words come quickly after that, “Now? I’ll have to go first, though,”

“Later, then,” she said, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him to meet her again at the end of her words, “when you’re done.”

Sakusa smiled before their lips collided. This time, both hands curled around his neck, reciprocating the possessivity that had only been shown one-sidedly before, not wanting to be outdone. Unfortunately, this kiss doesn’t last long, interrupted by a familiar voice out of nowhere, a calling that Sakusa will only hear from a particular party.

“Omi-kun!”

Immediately, still drunk in their feelings, they pulled away from each other, trying not to leave a trace to each other when Miya Atsumu got there for Sakusa. They’re lucky they had enough time to part and to slightly wipe the remnants of the kiss.

When Miya Atsumu got there, he immediately greeted Sakusa with his amusing calling. And he who was also familiar with the reporter also greeted her. But later, rather than listening to Sakusa’s words, the hot setter of Jackals was now preoccupied with his own search and it took him a single glance to understand what happened on the scene before he got there. Then right before he lead the way, he turned, “Omi-kun,”

Sakusa frowned, “What?”

The blonde setter’s face was convincing when he said,“you got lipstick on your mouth.”

Sakusa spontaneously touching his lips, to halt and realize when the setter giggled. When his gaze returned, he heard him, “Gotcha!”

*****

It’s funny how at the end of the day, Sakusa was the one who got her all for himself in a very hotel room. Sakusa Kiyoomi, the one’s filthy of his words, accusing her of having Atsumu taking her to a hotel, was the very man having his mouth and hands all occupied once the door to the room closed, blindly tracing over their way to the bed.

Arriving somewhere near the bed, his kisses shifting, tracing every inch of her face, then down, stopping by her lips, then down to her chin, and away down her neck, nuzzling, kissing, sucking, nipping, and licking at the vulnerable spot on her neck that enlightened him with sweet sounds that are her responses to his good work.

Sakusa gets the determination to play longer there, he loves hearing her voice. And as he continues to explore her neck with new things his lips can do to satisfy her desire, he hears her, “you know, before, when Miya Senshu came,”

Sakusa responded in a hum, not stopping. Wicked thought flashing when he heard that name mentioned. They are making out and she dared to mention that very name– no, he’s going to show her who owns her. In the next second, he had her moaning his name when he licked that sweet spot, sucking on it expertly.

Though she stretched herself even more, giving him more access to do as he please, he was wrong to think that she’s stopping,  “I didn’t use any lipstick,” 

He hummed, still nipping, kissing her neck. “Yeah,” he managed to answer before moving to the other side of her neck.

“And you fell for that one,” she tugged on his hair just enough to make him stop. His eyes on hers, vulnerable, thick with love and lust. In that short pause, he took his time to gaze into her eyes, grateful that they had finally ended up the way he had always imagined. He heard her say, “idiot,” 

Sakusa hummed and then kissed her again. His hands quickly guided her arms to lock around his neck, along with how his hands went tracing down her curves, stopping somewhere in her waist for a gentle squeeze.

His kisses continued down her neck, sucking, small bites or gentle licks that made her giggling in amusement, but when his mouth suddenly sucked hard on the crook of her neck, his name left her mouth as an exclamation.

He chuckled, satisfied with her reaction as he returned to kiss her. In between kisses, he said, “but you like it, don’t you?”

She whines and he chuckles. His hands went to undo the remaining buttons of her shirt, and by the last few remaining buttons, he pulled away her kiss.

He went on to kiss her shoulders, stopping by her chest, and the other shoulder before helping her out of her shirt. Following the shirt that he discarded somewhere on the floor, was her hands that went to undo her bra, his eyes wide with anticipation. And when it completely left her body, his face flushed in redness to the sight of the way she shyly presented herself to him. His gaze long admired her breasts, alternating with his eyes, as if studying what was going on and what he should do with it— obviously though, the hunger he had on his gaze was enough to tell that he wanted to feel them with everything.

Slowly, he brought his hand to touch her breast and watched her reaction. Her eyes were on him at first touch, and when she nodded, he immediately brought both his hands to squeeze them, slow and sensual at the first few, and gradually greedier through each attempt. When she moans, Sakusa gains new determination to repeat what he did. Then he switches to his mouth, dominating.

Sakusa is professional in his work on her breasts. 

He gives them equal attention when he plays with them. When his mouth was busy playing with one, then his hand would keep the other company. Simultaneously gently squeezing the mound as his mouth sucked on her nipple and the mound of the other, greedy for what he could take in. He was like a hungry little baby being served his last meal. But more than that, he knew what he had to do. He licks, sucks, and swirls his tongue on her breast just right the way she wants him. He puts her on cloud nine with every single thing he does to her, not to mention the sounds he makes in response to her moans.

“This isn’t your first time, right?”

On the edge of the bed where he had laid her down, Sakusa, who was about to return to her neck, halted midway at her question. He looked at her with furrowed brows, “What?”

Somehow in his gaze, there was enough dislike- disappointment. And before he could say anything, her hands cupped his face as she said, “Just asking, pretty boy,” 

His frown fading, replaced with a warm dusting on his cheeks as he welcomed her in. A kiss on his lips to soothe him, or an apology for her accusation being so sharp, which brought all over the place below his lips until he finally had to stretch his neck and give her room to go down, tracing him with her kisses.

Her name was warm on his lips, a shudder when she left light kisses in the crook of his neck, and a satisfied hum when she was softly nipping on it.

“Mark me,” he commands.

“Hm?”

She paused, pulling away just enough to ask him, “are you sure?”

He turned, greeting her as his hands tightly hugged her waist, and said,  “yeah, as yours.”

Meeting his eyes, she smiled, then leaned in to leave a vulnerable kiss on his cheek. Then her mouth descended, tracing his chin, under, and his neck, with feather kisses. A moan slipped past his mouth when he felt her sucking on a spot behind his ear, as her fingers moved sensually massaging the back of his head. Her name was in his mouth as she continued to repeat it on several other spots on his neck. His hands moved greedily grasping and squeezing her waist as she sucked his neck, just enough to leave a mark.

“Yes—ahh….” 

Again, repeating it somewhere else on his neck and he called her name in a whimper. She giggled, and went to kiss the marks she had left gently.

Her fingers went to trace the mark, “They are visible,” his eyes met hers.

“And?”

“They’re somewhere you can’t cover with your jersey, Sakusa Senshu," she said.

His hands trailed down her back, pecking them sensually. When he gave a light squeeze on her back, he said, “Just let them think that my girlfriend is a pervert.”

“Girlfriend?” She frowned, amused. 

Murmuring, Sakusa jerks her closer to him, “what are you then?”

She chuckled, “yeah, girlfriend. And clearly they don’t know that the boyfriend asked to be marked as hers,”

"What then?" He retorted. He went to kiss her shoulder and arm.

Coming back to her briefly, he heard her, “don’t make me famous, please.”

He chuckled and went to kiss her collarbone gently, tracing. But while he was so lost and determined to left more trace, she pushed him, then said, “Let me,”

Then her lips were on his chest, tracing them with soft kisses, licking it with her hot, wet tongue, and as she played with his nipples, he moaned her name, his hands tracing her back greedily, possessively.

Her kisses are brought down and her eyes open with anticipation as he gets further down. His hands in her hair, not missing a second of the moment when she goes down for him. His moans a shudder as her hand brushes over his clothed cock, rock hard for her name on his lips. His hands scratching the back of her head and press her to kiss his stomach more. At the sensation that was heating up and making his chest tight with anticipation, she pulled away almost too suddenly for him to even react. Her eyes returned to how she had held him, neck stretched to meet his gaze.

Finally, she said, sighing, “I really am hooking up with a Black Jackals member,”

They stared at each other for quite some time in silence. His hand went to reach her face, stroking it gently. His heart swelled with love and affection seeing how she closed her eyes, melting under his touch, and returned to look at him warmly, mirroring the affection and love he had for her. Finally, he said, “as long as your feelings are real,” voice barely a whisper.

“They are,” she responded immediately.

She pulled away to release her embrace, and brought her hands to start unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. His chest tight with anticipation as her hand traced his cock while looking up at him. But what makes him throbbing with desperate need is when she goes down to kiss him while locking gazes with him. He’s hot, red, and overcome with need.

Then she strips off his briefs, giving room for his hard, angry cock. In her palm, he couldn’t calm down and instead gets greedier with need. He hissed, subconsciously jerking his hips towards her hand. His moans were a series of disjointed, imperfect shrudders of pleasure, and she quickly cut it off.

Her hand on his stomach, calming him. Then when he looked down, her gaze laced with teasing.

“Relax, big guy,” she said, her voice soft. And he did calm down, completely surrendering to her mercy.

Her hands moved to start playing with his length, leaving kisses on the red tip as his hand ran through her hair, tugging them from time to time. Then other kisses went down his entire length as her hands moved to continue pumping him, and in the end, she made sure to meet his gaze as she gave him a long, hot lick on his length. His cock twitched, his greed firing. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “That was so hot.”

She smiled, giggling. She seems to be enjoying herself as she plays with his cock. Her other help to further lower his pants down, letting him get off of it to rush back and submit himself to her hands. The remnants of his sanity leaving his body in each of her strokes, he was on cloud nine.

“Relax, it’s just my hand,” she whispered, her voice cold and evil.

“Fuck! Your hand… your hand feels… s’good…”

She increased her speed, only to turn him down as he was so close chasing his high, starting over with slower pumps—  this definitely wasn’t the first time she’d done this.

In the midst of his thoughts being solely occupied with his cock in her palm, and he let out a satisfied moan at her work, he managed to say something.

“What about you?” He hissed when he saw the way she pumped his cock in her palm, expertly destroying him.

“What?” He asked, his gaze on the innocent.

“Is this your first time?” 

Their gazes met, and she was not surprised as he was. Her hands remained focused on working him out just how he wanted.

Then her answer came at last, a, “Yes,” as she gave a nasty lick to his cock that almost had him losing his mind, “you are,” 

When her hot mouth captures the entire of his long-hardened length, aching and desperate for her touch, keening for it, his world momentarily disappears from his senses. Suddenly, she is everywhere filling him up. In his hearing, above and below the surface of his skin, lingering on his tongue, everywhere in his entire being filled with her.

Each pump, each of the ways she sucked him deeper into her mouth, taking him flying higher in pursuit of his high. She knew exactly what she was doing when she was working on him, and like someone whose senses were filled only by her every second she was destroying him with her mouth and hands, Sakusa clearly couldn’t hear how desperate his moans sounded with every minute the intensity of her touch felt less and less like enough.

He was desperate as he whines for more, closer to his high, subconsciously helping himself with small thrusts into her mouth and hands.

“Please… please… please…”

She had him going crazy, completely losing his mind in her unforgiving touch. Under her touch, there was never enough. Every time the high felt so close, it was like he had to try harder to beg to be delivered there immediately. His breathing ragging, racing with all the incoherent, uncharacteristic utterance that slipped past his mouth the further she took him. He couldn’t feel anything, just her, and the powdery bliss of her hands and mouth rubbing against his length.

He was at the end of his rise, almost arriving at the place where he could see stars, when her mouth and hands worked doubly fast and intensely in their work down there— oh god, was this heaven? He swore he moaned as loudly as that one of a porn he had once accidentally watched in high school and he now knows why that time the actor had to moan so disgustingly. His eyes rolled to the back of his head he swore he could see his skull. Her name came out of his mouth like a prayer, a mantra dominated by all sorts of begs.

One long suck, and his eyes returned to her at her mischievous hum and he was done, coming in a long, thick white rope inside her mouth. His first orgasm struck him like a tsunami. 

He braced himself towards her, hands gripping on her shoulders, eyes locking with hers. He jerked his hips deeper into her mouth as he chanted her name desperately, and she rolled her eyes whilst taking all of him in. However, he doesn’t stop yet, his first one is probably quite a lot for her to handle and she coughs.

Worried, Sakusa immediately pulls himself out of her mouth while soothing his throbbing length with short, fast pump. He grimaced, groaning, then he returned to her, with enough worry and guilt, cupping her face and asked, “are you okay?”

She was still coughing, her hand somewhere on her mouth, yet she still managed to lick the remnants of his cum on her hand and on the tip of her lips afterwards, a wicked sight that shot right to his cock. Sakusa almost whimpered as the sensation that came over him made him hard again.

“That was pretty fast,” she commented. She smiled at him, her eyes mirroring his own.

Sakusa sighed, “Yeah, you worked really hard for it.”

“It was fun,” she winked.

Sakusa’s voice was low, and his gaze dangerous when he said, “you naughty little demon.”

She laughed at his words, quickly adjusting herself to immediately releasing her bottom without being asked to. He came hard to the sight as she lay down for him, clearly under his mercy. Her face flushed with shyness as he took all of her in, trailing every inch of the full picture of her raw beauty in his gaze.

“Stop gazing,” she said.

And Sakusa immediately stopped, his gaze returning to her eyes as he descended.

“Is it wrong for me to look at you?”

“No,” she replied. Her hand went to move the pillow away, not needing it. She caught him in line with her legs, blushing when she saw him kiss them gently and attentively. Her heart swelling with love and affection at what she had just seen, and when his eyes returned to her, his hand briefly took hers.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers.

“Because I’m naked, and at your mercy,” she retorted. 

Sakusa shakes his head, contrasting with how his hand slowly, sensually, strokes her leg, going between them.

“You know, even though I really want to fuck you right now, I want you to feel comfortable,” Sakusa said, eyes never leaving her through each strokes. 

Her brow furrowed, catching his words amusingly, “I don’t know whether to be pleased, touched, or honored of what I just heard— is that your confession?” She asked.

“Don’t try,” he warned, his dark orbs piercing through her, “I mentioned every damn word pretty clearly just now.” 

Silence falls upon them, and in the silence, the temperature in their bodies rises along with the tension that is also mounting. Within each touch, Sakusa gives the message that she is his, that no one else has the right to mark what is his and he is quite competitive and determined in this regard. One last touch and he gave her a light squeeze and gentle look in her eyes yet his tone a command, “spear your legs.” 

She spread her legs for him, shyly at first.

“More,” he said.

And more.

“More,” 

“I think that’s—“

Sakusa’s eyes are on her, sharp and coldly piercing, demanding, “More,” his low, deep voice sending shivers down her spine, and something down there throbbing with need. Her eyes narrowed in desperation as she whimpered his name, she felt a quick wetness down there.

“Sakusa-san…” 

Her breath caught in the back of her throat when his mouth cupped her pussy quickly, kissing her in the way he kissed her lips, something that made her mind go on an instant error. Her moan a naughty, reciprocated with a satisfied hum that makes her slowly tighten up. How could she not? His tongue and lips know what exactly they are doing, licking, sucking, then slightly swirling a circle that makes her breath catch in her chest.

“Don’t stop right there— ahh…. Don’t… please don’t….”

He hummed, working his tongue like an expert who never failed in his first try. For a moment, just a moment, she thought that he might be lying about this being his first.

Her hands reached for his, locking his fingers with squeezes every time he did his thing, finishing her with a pleasure that left her only craving for more. His name in her mouth a barraging of desperate whine, needy moans, and though he let her press his head deeper into her welcoming cunt, each time he denied her when she was so close to be done.

“Please… I want to cum,” she whines, eyes glossy with need, despair, lust, and love.

He hummed. 

The next time his name slips out of her mouth in a whine, he slips a finger into her hole, and his name is a satisfied cry as he pulls them out and pumps them in along with his tongue at work on her clit.

Her ragged breathing, needy moans, and words of praise, as well as his name almost a prayer in her mouth becomes music to Sakusa’s ears.

“Sakusa-san… Sakusa-san… don’t stop don’t stop….” She mindlessly muttered.

And when two of his fingers fit themselves into her holes at once, his name a pleased shuddering, begging him not to stop.

Sakusa knows better and does exactly what she wants, gladly satisfying her while pumping himself at every sound she makes on his work. He comes once again just for her voice and the sweet taste of her juices in his tongue— it sounds pathetic and exhausting, but even then, his cock was still too excited to the thought of her.

With increased speed and intensity, his fingers and mouth bring her to the star she’s been desperately wanting to see, and his name a barrage of satisfied cries interspersed with sweet moans. His fingers creamy when he pulls them out, and he licks them in her watch.

His other hand was still pumping himself lazily as their eyes locked together in silence, drowning in the love and lust thick in the air, begging for immediate repayment.

The first to break the silence, she said, “that wasn’t really the fuck part.”

Sakusa smiled, “I know right,” he said. “I’ve been pumping myself.”

She chuckled, “Oh, I bet you really want to fuck me.”

“I’m rock hard just because you call my name, is that a good enough answer to make you let me fuck you?”

Their gazes locked together.

“Or should I just keep pumping myself on my own with you watching me?” He asked.

Sakusa waits quite some time for her answer, and his hand doesn’t stop pumping his still hard and very excited length. His heart racing, and honestly, he’s at the limit.

“Why would I watch you pump yourself?” She said finally, spreading leg open for him.

Sakusa smiled. Still pumping his cock lazily, he brought his length closer, lining against her entrance.

Sakusa doesn’t immediately insert his length into her, he lets the tip in for a while, then pulls it out, kissing her awaiting cunt with the tip and repeating it a few times until she says, “don’t tease.”

Sakusa smiled, not stopping what he was doing, this time locking his gaze with hers.

“Sakusa…. Please…” she begged, face flushed red, desperate.

“Please what?” He didn’t stop, “I didn’t recall that you’re desperate to be fucked.”

He enjoyed the sight of how her breathing was ragged and her gaze was pleading. Her hands reaching for him desperately, and though he won’t stop teasing her until she begs for it, he didn’t leave her alone and catches her hand in his.

“What is it, babygirl?” He cooed, tone gentle, fingers intertwining with her own. “What do you want, hm?”

“Please… I want to feel your cock inside me…”

He groaned.

“Fuck me, Sakusa-san, please,”

Her words shot right through his hard rocking cock. He groaned as she giggled, realizing she got him again. This time, though, he let it be. 

“Fuck, I want to fuck you so bad…”

The next second was their moans coming together in satisfaction as he finally slid himself into her cunt. His hand fell down to hold the weight of his body beside her head, the other still locking with hers, squeezing each other in bliss. 

“Fuck! You’re so tight!” He hissed, having trouble going deeper with his size inside her tightness, not yet used to him.

Underneath she softly whimpered. Her hand looping on his arms, clinging to it, squeezing like her life depends on it. 

“F-fuck— Just a little more,” he peered down, then left a kiss on her forehead, “ahh... just a little more and I promise it’ll feel good.… f—shit! You’re so tight— is it hurting you? Are you okay?”

When she didn’t answer, Sakusa called her name, panic evident in his eyes. His hand went to guide her back to his eyes, “Hey,” his voice soft. “Talk to me,” he said, “are you okay?”

She smiled, chuckling, “Yes… I am okay.” 

His eyes on hers for quite some time, searching for something that spoke of doubt or fear to find nothing. His hand then went to wipe her sweaty face, his touch gentle.

“It’s… started to feel good now,” she said

Sakusa hummed, obeying with a few slow thrusts as he helped himself in. His free hand immediately sought her out, spreading their fingers together to lock back  as he brought himself in deeper with each thrust. His hand tightened against her, locking possessively and protectively.

With each thrust, he gambled with what was left of his sanity not to do this depravedly in one go, but the looser and more accustomed her walls became to him, the less he could resist turning up the intensity of each of his thrust. Their moans were in sync, something that spoke of satisfaction and blind, raw pleasure, where love and lust melted into one. He drew himself closer to her as he left her hands, leaning down, longing for her warmth and she welcomed him with a hug. He murmured her name in her ear, nuzzling further into the crook of her neck, and nipping. Her hands snaking on his back, gripping, scratching sensually.

“Oh my god you feel so good, baby…” he moaned, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts.

“You want my cock to thrust deeper into you, don’t you? You want it to keep filling you, don’t you? You want it to fuck you, don’t you? Should I continue fucking you?” He rasped in her ear, 

“Yes please, Sakusa…” Her head nodding mindlessly, she moans desperately, begging, almost crying with need.

“We gotta say it, baby,” he said.

“Yes please, don’t stop fucking me, Sakusa—ohhh….” She says it clearly in his ear and Sakusa completely throws his morale after that, gone brutal in the pace he sets as he manages to hit the spot that had her moaning even more desperately in a barrage of his name.

His name a barrage of prayers, greedy whimpers, pornographic moans and everything else in his hearing the entire time his cock hitting that spot perfectly on each attempt and all praises, whatever it is:

“Oh good it feels so good Sakusa… please don’t stop…. Oh yes right there… Sakusa…..!!!!!”

She came once more, creaming the tip of his still rock hard cock with her sweetness. Sakusa groaned, his cock hard. He’s about to come once again. His hands quickly flipped her over to bend, exposing her ass to him, her hands and knees on the bed. She gasped for air when he immediately inserted his length without a warning. He groaned at the familiar, welcoming sensation. Her walls were still pulsating and still warm, the imprint of his cock still there. His hands held her waist steady on the first, intense thrust and made her gasp for air in an imperfect moans.

Sakusa positions himself better before he thrusts again, this time having her perfectly moaning. Before his next thrust, he stops and kisses her back, curing his longing for the warmth of her body. Welcoming him who traces along her shoulder with a soft kiss, she reaches towards him. Her hand scratched his head as he squirmed on her shoulder, and he hummed to acknowledge her. He briefly kissed her arm. 

When he finally pulled away, their room was again filled with their colliding moans as his waist continued to help him push himself deeper and deeper into her, deep where he remembered a spot that would make her moans in contentment.

It wasn’t long enough for him to stay in that position, as he was quickly missing her warmth to him, craving her touch. He went closer, hugging her while calling her name desperately, longingly. He kissed her back and shoulders, the back of her neck while his hands went to trace her curves as his waist continued to work to bring his thrusts home, repeatedly hitting that spot that had his name slipping out of her mouth in a mindless plea, a satisfied, pornographic moan.

He began to lose his rhythm as her walls pulsed, squeezing him in. He groaned at his name as a desperate call in her mouth when she was close.

“Sakusa-san…” she called out, desperate, glancing through her shoulder.

He responded, calling her name in each of his thrusts.

Her hands reaching out, calling out to him once more. And he greet her, kissing her fingers and letting her touch him.

“Sakusa-san….” 

He called back to her name, and said, “I’m close…” voice trailing, unable to contain himself for any longer. His rhythm was messy, just a raw need of wanting to be done, to see those stars again with her walls wrapping him.

“Me too…” she said.

He pulled her into a short, intense kiss. Then in the midst of their hazy thoughts of exploding lust, she asked breathlessly, “Are you mine?” hands still tangled in his hair, squeezing him. 

Sakusa replied, catching his breath, “yours… yeah… forever…”

And she asked again, “you promise you won’t leave me the next morning?”

Sakusa nodded breathlessly, “I won’t leave you, I’m yours…. I’m yours…. yours to take…”

Then she pulled him into an intense kiss and ended it with a desperate moan, “Oh…. So good— god I’m so close!!!”

“Yes…. Yes…. Have me with you, baby… I’m so close too…” Sakusa answered.

She responded with an incoherent hum, a proposal, “Inside please,” 

Sakusa’s mind was foggy but he managed to make sure, “Huh?” 

“Inside,” she asserted.

“Y-yeah?” he asked, breathless.

She nodded, “cum inside me, please,”

Sakusa doesn’t need to be told twice, he picks up the pace and lets her cream on him as his name slips out of her mouth mindlessly, and shortly after she comes, he follows, breaking into the rhythm of his thrusts as her name is the final fragment of satisfaction on his ride. He did not just see stars, heaven was all along in his every sense.

He fell, his body limping against her on the bed as exhaustion finally rippled their muscles. For some time they are silent, focused on calming themselves and catching their ragging breaths.

Sakusa is the first to recover, and is calm enough to bring himself to kiss her back, her shoulders, the back of her neck, and whispering a thank you in her ear, and was responded with a hum and a soft kiss.

After that there was only silence, and also love bubbling in the air as they became too tired to talk. However, when Sakusa slowly trailed his arm to cage her, he had enough urge to say, “I bet your hot Miya-san can’t do something like this,” 

“I will bet that he’s the type to last longer in bed though,” she retorted. 

Sakusa chuckled, “yeah, clearly. Atsumu’s a bed master. A professional playboy.” 

“And you?” She asked, hunching her shoulder slightly as she peeked on her shoulder. 

He welcomed her affectionately, nuzzling his nose into her cheek, “I’d say a dedicated lover.”

She hummed, a skeptical hum, then added, “Or you can also say, a jealous, possessive, hyper protective, high-guarded little brat.”

Sakusa hummed, finding his comfort in the crook of her neck.

Then she said, “Now get off of me.” 

Silence, then, “No,” he said, giggling against her shoulder. 

“You’re going to hurt my back, Sakusa-san,” she said.

“I’ll massage you later…” He gently muttered, a cute plea with a pout as he peered into her. 

She sighed, “I warned you. We’re not sleeping like this.” 

Sakusa hummed. 

She turned to meet him, and just like that he understands what she needs and gives it immediately. Another kiss on the lips. Tender, unrushing, a promise.