#or at least making them entirely fucking public

[werew0lfhours]

Hello, internet rando here.

I stumbled across this interaction and was... Baffled. So, I'm going to throw my two cents in.

Everything Kid said was reasonable, but Bit.... I don't think you really understand how the world at large works.

Let's get the facts straight- Lily has been friends with a lot of people through the years. Lily has dated a few people. But at least six of those people have spoken out and said she isn't a good person.

If I wanted to be dramatic, I would compare Lily to Epstien. Because... Epstien was a friend's with a lot of people who didn't go to his island or knew he was a fucking monster. But I won't do that.

I want you to look at the people you mentioned, Bit. We know not much about Ethan.

Ginger was 15 and a fan who drew NSFW of Lily. This was readily available info. Lily should have stopped this. But she didn't. And she went on to date her.

Ren is in Russia and married now, not to mention, doesn't seem to interact with Lily at all now. And she was also a minor fan when they started talking.

Xain and Sketchy are.... Whatever.

Lolo is 26 and lives with her parents for reasons that allude to her needing their care still.

M'kay has seemingly never had a healthy relationship in her life.

These people being the "example" you use is telling. These are all people who haven't been around for long (Britt had been friends with her since she was a teen) and they also don't seem to know what is and isn't healthy in an interpersonal relationship. And they have shown this.

Also, look at what happened with some of the people that Lily had a public falling out with. Lily started going behind Lizzy's back to bad mouth her about really petty shit when they had broken up "amicably". That forced Lizzy to address what their relationship was really like. And Lily only responded with, "No, you."

Britt had entire logs full of proof of the things she had been through. And people still act as if Britt is some spurrned fuck buddy when;

1. She is a lesbian.

2. Lily was presenting as a cis hetero male during the entirety of their friendship.

Can you see how shitty that is?

Not to mention, Lily recently attempted to dox her by using her full legal name edited over a post on her side blog. And she also committed liable by saying she is a pedo defender.

And Josh.... She's still upset about Josh. She still makes digs towards him. To this day. They stopped being friends nearly a decade ago. That's weird behavior.

So, take all of that and place that on the most volatile and petty person you know. Would you stop publicly being friends with them, or even make it seem like you didn't want to be friends with them anymore? No? Why's that? Scared of the repercussions of not being under their thumb?

Anyway, very lame excuse all and all.

Try a new argument.

Ps. You forgot about Carousel, Blake, and InkRose. Strange.

(Also, this account is one of the funniest things I've seen lmaoooo.)

I'm ready Lily stans

Okay, I need everyone on Lily's side to do a brain exercise with me.

If Lily to always a victim and never the problem then she is lying about something if all of her friends have decided to cut her off then she is the problem. if every room you go in smells like shit then check your shoes

[notiddygothgf]

xiv

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I'm sorry.❞

★ c.w.: situationship-typical confusion, smut, cunnilingus, poorly timed confessions, phone sex, so much yearning and so much angst, oh my god.

★ a/n: oh my god. this chapter was such a MONSTER TO WRITE!!! i will say, it's like 70% angst. BUT!!! we get to see some majorrrr development. Honestly, i'm a little nervous about posting this, as I'm not very confident, but i think that's only because it takes such a bold turn. I'm gonna HOPE it translates well lol... i don't wanna say too much (other than to keep on dropping those beautiful comments that make me giggle), but... strap in lol. it's a ride.

★ w.c: 12.4k

pornstar ; chapter index

YOU HAD ALWAYS wanted to be a nurse – white uniform, slicked-back hair, the whole nine yards. You had gone as far as first aid training before the reality of your situation kicked in, of course. Realistically speaking, you had no way of financing such an endeavor. Your father passed when you were young, leaving the financial burden of raising a child alone to your mother. You wished you could say that she did the best she could, but that would be a lie. In reality, your mother spent much of her time spending what little spare money she did have on maintaining her social life. Nights at bars and parties that bled early into the morning – some days, she would be coming home and kicking her shoes off with that tipsy grin of hers just as you were getting ready for school.

So, when the two of you had a big argument and she yelled at you to “take your shit and get the fuck out of my house,” you weren’t exactly leaving much behind. Freshly 18 and completely overwhelmed by possibilities, you didn’t have the means – financially or emotionally – to build yourself the future you had always wanted. It was there that you approached the first decision that led you here – the decision to join Public Safety.

You were far too frail for the military. No, bootcamp didn’t sound appealing at all. Not only that, but you weren’t all too crazy about the principle of killing people for money. 

So, your only other option – the only other way you would be able to afford college – was Public Safety. If you worked for them for at least a year, they would pay for your college. The best part of all? There would be no human blood on your hands.

At least, that was the idea.

You had it all planned out. Hell, you even had a little binder… one that had your transcripts, hopes, and dreams contained within. One that had been collecting dust for the past few years of your career as a Public Safety officer. Year after year, those application deadlines would roll past, and year after year, your dreams drifted further and further away from you. Before you knew it, you seemed to have forgotten about it entirely.

Maybe too much time had passed. Maybe you lost your resolve. Either way, you sure as hell weren’t a nurse.

Two paths diverged into a yellow wood, or whatever the hell it was that Robert Frost said – and you sure as hell took the road less traveled by. Decision after decision had led you to your position. Similarly, it was through a series of truly unfortunate decisions that you found yourself where you were today.

That is, of course, running away the moment you made eye contact with your superior, Aki Hayakawa. You had seen him walking up the same hallway he always did – the one on the second floor, somewhere between his office and Makima’s.

Truthfully, you had been avoiding him for two days now – you hadn’t answered either of his phone calls, and you certainly hadn’t answered his “Are you up?” text. Yesterday hadn’t been hard, but today was office day. That meant that the chance of you running into him was a hell of a lot higher. 

He was walking toward you, his long strides easy, effortless—just like they always were. Hair tied neatly, coat slung over one arm, and head tilted slightly toward the colleague beside him. He was saying something, probably about a mission. You couldn’t hear it. Didn’t need to.

The moment you saw him, something in your chest lurched. Not in a cute, fluttery kind of way—but more like your organs suddenly wanted to evacuate your body.

You winced. Immediately.

Then you did what any emotionally stable adult would do: you veered.

Hard left.

The breakroom door opened under your hand with a faint creak and closed behind you just as quickly. You pressed your back to it for a second, exhaling slow. Relief bloomed through your chest like something warm.

That was a close one.

Safe.

Or so you thought.

The door clicked again.

You froze.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The click of it shutting gently. The hush of movement behind you. You could feel him…calm, still, and watching.

“Good morning,” you said, after a beat.

Your voice sounded even, maybe too even. Like you weren’t currently regretting every life decision that led to this very moment.

Aki’s voice followed close behind, low and measured. “You’re avoiding me.”

No shit.

You turned around, meeting his eyes. He looked like he always did, clean lines, sharp gaze, emotion held just behind the eyes. But something else was there too. Curiosity. Concern. Maybe a bit of frustration.

Maybe he’s overthinking, too.

“No, I’m not,” you replied quickly, lifting your mug like some kind of deflective totem.

His expression didn’t change. “You literally just took off running when you saw me.”

Dammit.

You winced again. “…Okay. Maybe I didn’t wanna interrupt your conversation.”

Aki raised a brow. Slowly.

“You haven’t answered my calls,” he said. “Or my texts. Not even the one where I asked if you were up. Something’s wrong.”

You hated how direct he was. Always had. It made it impossible to brush things under the rug.

You hesitated, glancing to the side like the coffee machine might offer you divine intervention.

He was still watching you.

Still waiting.

You took a breath and set your mug down on the counter with a quiet clink. “Do you really wanna do this here?”

The words came out more tired than defensive. A quiet admission.

Aki didn’t move. But you saw the faint shift in his expression, something soft threading its way into the angles of his face. His eyes dropped briefly to the floor, then back up to you.

“Yes,” he said finally. “Unless there’s… some reason we shouldn’t.”

There was a pause. A thick, stretched silence that seemed to fill every inch of the tiny breakroom. You looked down at your hands.

“It’s stupid,” you said.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how small the room was. How close he was. And how tired you were of trying to pretend.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” He went on, “Something’s wrong.”

God, I hate how self-aware he is.

You crossed your arms over your chest – not out of anger, just to hold yourself together. “I didn’t know how to talk to you after… the night at my apartment.”

He blinked. Just once. “That’s it?”

“The hell do you mean, ‘That’s it’?” You hissed back, fingers gripping the mug a little tighter. 

“I mean,” He sighed, walking over to the breakroom counter and leaning up against it like he owned the damn thing. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because I spent the night?”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh, eyes trained on the floor tiles.

“Jesus, Aki.” You shook your head. “I really don’t wanna do this here.”

“Why not?” he asked, and he didn’t sound smug—he sounded genuinely confused. Like he hadn’t realized just how deep that night had burrowed itself into your chest.

You glanced up at him sharply. “Because this is the breakroom,” you said, voice low and tight. “Because there are cameras in the hallway and people two doors down who love to gossip. Because I’m barely keeping it together and I’m not interested in becoming office entertainment for the day.”

His brows pulled together at that, his gaze softening, but you saw the way his jaw flexed. He wasn’t going to let this go.

You crossed your arms over your chest – not out of anger, just to give yourself something to do with your body that didn’t involve reaching for him.

He was about to say something, something serious by the look in his eyes, when the breakroom door creaked open behind you.

You both turned.

It was Fujioka from Records – mid-thirties, always a little too cheerful in the mornings, and unfortunately, incredibly observant. He walked in holding a chipped white mug and blinked at the two of you standing just a little too close in the corner by the counter.

“Morning,” he said with a polite little nod, but his tone held a hint of curiosity, his eyes flicking between the two of you like he was trying to piece together what he’d just walked in on.

You instantly stepped back, putting a little space between yourself and Aki, suddenly very interested in the stale coffee pot behind you.

“Morning,” you mumbled, reaching for a paper cup you didn’t actually need.

Aki nodded too, a little stiffly. “Hey.”

Fujioka moved around the room casually, but you could feel the change in the air—how the tension still clung to the walls even as everyone tried to pretend otherwise. You focused on fixing your nonexistent coffee, stirring an empty cup just to avoid looking at anyone.

Fujioka cleared his throat as he poured himself a mug, the sound of liquid hitting ceramic loud in the painfully quiet room. He lingered by the sugar packets longer than necessary, as if waiting for someone to resume conversation. No one did.

Eventually, mercifully, he gave up.

“Well… see you two around,” he said, lifting his mug in a lazy salute before strolling back out into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind him with a dull thud.

The moment he was gone, the spell broke.

You hissed under your breath, spinning on your heel to face Aki again. “I can’t keep doing this– this… push and pull thing. I can’t.”

“So your solution is to just pretend I’m not here?” He asked. “Instead of, I don’t know, maybe telling me that?”

Damn, he’s good.

Why does he actually sound… worried? He had the nerve to stand in front of you and actually give a shit about you.

Folding your arms protectively over your chest, you tried your best to not let it show how much his tone affected you. He was scolding you again – in that way only he could… subtly, almost imperceptibly. “I didn’t know how to tell you, and… fuck, okay, maybe ignoring you wasn’t really fair, but I… I needed space to think.”

When he didn’t reply, merely crossing his own arms in response, you added, “Distance.”

“...Distance,” He repeated back, the words sounding a whole lot stupider now that you were hearing them coming from someone else’s mouth.

“I don’t… We shouldn’t be doing this, Aki,” You sighed. “It’s not healthy. For either of us.”

His silence was fucking deafening. 

“So,” he finally said, voice careful, “You want to break it off. If that’s what you want, I completely understand.”

It wasn’t a question.

Then his voice dipped even quieter, something raw at the edges. “That is what you want, right?”

Say yes.

Dammit, say yes.

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out.

Because it wasn’t what you wanted – and, by the looks of it, it wasn’t what he wanted, either. You couldn’t even nod. You just stood there, swallowing down the lump in your throat, knowing your silence was all the answer he needed.

Aki held your gaze for a beat longer. He didn’t ask again. Didn't press. But something in his expression faltered. Subtle, barely there, like a hairline crack in ice.

He stepped past you slowly, deliberately. His shoulder brushed yours, and he lingered just a second longer than he had to. Not long enough to be noticed. Just long enough to be felt.

“When you make up your mind, give me a call,” he said as he reached the door. His hand paused on the handle. “If you need me, I’ll be there. That won’t change.”

Then he left.

No parting look. No sigh. Just the soft click of the door shutting behind him.

And then it was just you.

The hum of the old vending machine filled the quiet. The smell of burnt coffee lingered like something gone stale. You exhaled, but it didn’t make you feel any lighter. If anything, the weight in your chest settled deeper, a kind of ache that made it hard to stand still, but harder to move.

“If you need me, I’ll be there. That won’t change.”

You stared at the counter, at the same cup of untouched coffee you’d been pretending to drink.

What do I want?

The next few days at work dragged like a bad dream you kept waking up inside of. Everything was functional, fine, normal—which somehow made it worse. No one noticed the shift but you, because the shift wasn’t in the air. It was in him.

Aki didn’t avoid you. Not exactly.

He said hi when he passed you in the hallway. Nodded politely when you sat in on briefings. Never once cut his eyes toward you longer than necessary. And it was that restraint—measured, precise—that killed you the most. The way he’d returned to the version of himself you used to know before all this, before the apartment, before the softness. The version that kept things clean. Professional. Cold.

You used to admire that about him.

Now, it just made your chest feel hollow.

The week stretched out like an endless gray horizon, every day bleeding into the next without ceremony or relief. You told yourself silence would help. That stepping back, shutting down, giving space, was the only way to protect what was left, maybe even save something.

But it didn’t. Not really.

It started with the same hollow knot twisting in your stomach that you’d been trying to ignore since the break room confrontation. You showed up early, trying to drown out the unease with the routine – filing reports, restocking supplies, moving through the motions like a ghost. 

You caught yourself glancing toward the hallway, expecting maybe, just maybe, Aki would be there. Maybe he’d say something, anything. But he wasn’t.

He greeted the team when he walked in, clipped and professional, but the moment his eyes found you, they flicked away like you were a shadow best avoided. It wasn’t cold exactly, but it was… distant. Like a radio that had lost signal, static filling the space where connection used to be.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself it was fine. That you were fine. That this was how it had to be.

The next day was worse.

The office was busier, and the tension was thicker. He passed you in the hall with a nod that didn’t quite reach his eyes. During the briefing, you sat close enough to hear the sharpness in his voice as he gave orders, precise and clipped.

You remembered the night at your apartment – how he had held you like he meant it – and the ache that still lingered under your ribs. Now, all of that softness felt like a fragile illusion, shattered and left behind in the past. You hated how badly you missed it. Hated how much you wanted to call him, to hear that same low, satiny voice.

Thursday’s mission day was the worst.

You woke up with that familiar churn of anxiety twisting your stomach, a knot tighter than the day before. There was no room for confusion on missions, no space for hesitation or doubt. You had to be sharp. 

But, fuck, every time you caught Aki’s eye across the briefing room, you saw the same cold, unreadable mask he wore in the field.

He was professional, all business. No cracks. No softness. No trace of the man who had whispered “I’ve never had this before. Otherwise, I think I’d know how to handle it,” in your apartment just days ago.

He gave commands like a machine, precise and unyielding. When he passed you, there was a nod. No warmth, no recognition. You could have been a fucking stranger. A ghost haunting the edges of his focus.

He was putting up walls again. You could feel them being built, brick by brick, every time his gaze slid past you. Every time his voice dropped into something carefully neutral when you entered the room. And the worst part? You were the one who’d started it. You’d handed him the bricks.

That is what you want, right?

By the time Friday night rolled around, the question was buzzing around inside of your head.

You told yourself you were going to have a self care night. All of the week’s situationship drama had you at your wit’s end. You wanted nothing more than to sink into a nice, warm bubble bath, to clean the troubles away from your face, to snuggle up into freshly cleaned sheets in your favorite pajamas.

So, that’s exactly what you did.

You scrubbed at your face until it felt dry – aching to rid yourself of some of the week’s tension. You tied your hair back and settled into bed at the ripe hour of nine thirty.

The radio played a gentle tune, low and steady, like a soft breath in a room full of too much noise. You had your book open, but you weren’t reading shit. The words spilled past your eyes, blurry and meaningless, lost beneath the weight of everything you couldn’t shake.

No, instead, your mind kept looping back to him, replaying snippets of conversations past like a fucking broken record.

“I’ve never had this before,” 

“You missed me that much?”

“You did so good for me,”

“When you make up your mind, give me a call.”

“If you need me, I’ll be there. That won’t change.”

You thought of how fucking cold he had been to you all week. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t dealt with before. No, you wished you could say that he was being petty and taking it out on you. That’s just the thing, though – he wasn’t. For the most part, things had returned to the way they used to be.

It seemed that you were the only one who couldn’t.

You were the one who was falling apart, which was crazy, because you had been the one to call for a break in the first place. You were the one who had insisted that distance would help to clear up some of the congestion in your mind, and what did you have to show? A few sleepless nights? A boatload of stress?

God, I bet he’s not even stressing about this, you thought – briefly. Then, your mind wandered right on back to the argument in the breakroom. The way he had stopped just before leaving, eyes glancing over you like he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to let you go, either, uttering those damn words that you had been thinking about all fucking week.

“If you need me, I’ll be there. That won’t change.”

Then, the memory of his lips lingered on your spine – warm and hot and tender, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. 

“You did so good for me. I should give you a reward, hmm?” 

The quiet always brought him back. The memory of his hands tracing slow, reverent paths over your body like he was trying to map out every scar, every soft part of you, like he wanted to memorize all of it. The way he hovered just above you for a moment, just breathing you in, like he couldn’t believe he had you beneath him again. Like he didn’t want to rush it.

"Tap my thigh three times if you want me to stop."

Your thoughts dipped lower, slower – his mouth, warm and open at your neck, dragging over your shoulder, his breath skimming the curve of your spine. The way his voice dropped when he issued a command, quiet and aching, like it meant something different when he said it in the dark.

“You feel me, Baby?”

“You’re such a good girl for me.”

He had always touched you like he wanted to prove something. Like no one else had ever touched you right before. And you let him, because maybe that was the only place the two of you ever made any damn sense…

Skin to skin, breathless and tangled in the half-light.

The memory pulled tight in your gut, sudden and sharp, the ache curling low in your belly. Your thighs pressed together without thinking. Fuck.

You swallowed and squeezed your eyes shut.

Because it wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was what he did when that look shifted, when the tension cracked and gave way to hunger. That unspoken give it to me. That fierce, unrelenting pull between his control and the way he unraveled when he had you underneath him. The way he’d pin your wrists down with one hand, his mouth dragging down your collarbone with the other, low and hot and wanting.

And God, he knew what he was doing.

He always knew how to draw it out of you—how to get you trembling and soaked and desperate before he ever even got inside. He took his damn time. He liked watching you fall apart. Liked the way you said his name in pieces.

“You’ve probably fucked this pretty pussy to the thought of it, haven’t you?”

And you were remembering it now a little too vividly. The way his voice dropped an octave when he whispered in your ear, telling you not to look away. The drag of his hips against yours, slow and firm, like he wanted you to feel everything. The way he tasted on your tongue. The way he grunted when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper.

“Yes, sir.”

“You have no… fucking idea how I feel when you call me that.”

You could practically hear him now… rough and low and barely coherent, right at the edge, telling you how good you felt, how tight you were, how close he was. His fingers digging into your thigh. The heat of his skin pressed flush to yours.

“Do you have… any clue… What you fucking do to me?”

Your hand twitched where it rested on your stomach.

You were turned on. Ridiculously.

And the worst part? It wasn’t just the sex that was wrecking you. It was the way he held you after. The way he tucked his face into your neck and breathed you in. The way his thumb brushed soft circles into your hip like he couldn’t stop touching you even after it was over. The way his voice went quiet, honest, like things slipped out he didn’t mean to say.

Things like “I’ve never had this before.”

And now you were alone in your bedroom, hand inching down your stomach, chest rising and falling too fast, flushed and aching and stupid with want for a man you said you needed space from.

God, space didn’t feel like the clarity you needed – it felt like fucking torture.

You’d told yourself it was about relief, about easing the pressure in your chest, in your gut, the kind that had been building all week. But it wasn’t just about that. Not really.

Because the second your eyes slipped closed, your mind brought him back. His eyes, his lips, the way he’d made love to you only a week earlier, patient and tender and far too careful for someone who claimed not to feel shit.

Your hand moved lower, and you tried to chase the ghost of that night, the way his breath had caught, the sound he made when you pulled him closer. But it was no good. Your skin didn’t burn the way it did when he touched you. Your pulse didn’t stutter the same way. You were too aware of the absence, too aware of the space between then and now.

Your fingers slid down between your folds, collecting slick onto the tips. Slowly, carefully, you found your clit and began rolling the digits over the little nub in circles. A little faster, then, as you kept on thinking about how he’d felt, how he’d kissed you.

It wasn’t scratching the itch. It wasn’t even fucking close.

Before you knew it, the frustration crept back in. Nothing’s working.

Your eyes found your phone on the nightstand almost instantaneously. It was folded shut, sitting aimlessly atop the wooden surface, but it glared back at you.

He was just one call away, after all.

No, stop it.

You sat up, dragging a hand down your face like that might scrub the thought away, like that would ground you in something rational. Your chest felt too tight. You could still hear his voice in your head—low, steady, the way it used to sound when he was whispering things against your neck like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud.

God, what the hell am I doing?

And then you were spiraling again. Remembering the weight of him. The way he looked at you like he was trying not to fall. Like he already had.

Your eyes flicked to the phone again.

No.You clenched your jaw, swung your legs off the bed. Maybe some water. Maybe cold air. Maybe anything else.

But you didn’t move.

You sat there, breathing too hard, fingers paused on your clit like you were holding yourself back from something reckless.

God, what the hell am I doing?

You reached for the phone anyway. With the other hand, you continued to rub yourself up and down, side to side – slowly, tentatively.

And, dammit, you were weak. You knew you were weak because it wasn’t sex you thought about in your time of need. No, it was him – nothing casual about that.

I’m so sexually frustrated right now, I don’t even care.

Then, his words, a cruel echo in your mind, “When you make up your mind, give me a call.”

“If you need me, I’ll be there. That won’t change.”

Still, you couldn’t help the way you shifted your hips to get a better angle, thumb flicking through the contacts until you found that damn name at the top.

Aki Hayakawa.

Fuck it.

You clicked the dial button, and let it ring. Once, twice…

Then the line clicked.

“Hey,” He answered, voice deep and groggy, thick with sleep, “Something wrong?”

I knew he would answer, you thought. Still, it was uncanny, the way relief blanketed you. You were so relieved, in fact, that your heart wasn’t the only thing that twitched at the sound of his voice.

Whoops.

“I… No, I…” You trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words now that you finally got him on the line. 

God, what do I even say? Hey, you know how we’ve been ignoring each other for a week? Yeah, I want to fuck. Ridiculous.

God, this whole situation was ridiculous.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” You admitted, hand pausing its movements over your clit for just a moment because, fuck it all, you were nervous. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by the shifting of fabric, like he was in bed when you’d called. “My voice?” He asked. “It’s the middle of the night. Everything okay?”

It’s like I can’t stay mad at him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Was all you said, hoping he’d get the hint.

“Bad dream?” He grumbled.

Fuck, his voice is so hot, You thought. 

“No, just… thoughts,” You replied, waving your hand around like he could see it. “Won’t shut up.”

Only a partial lie.

“...What kind of thoughts?” He asked, and your heart fucking dropped – suddenly, his tone shifted, and you weren’t so confident about your little mission any longer.

I’m a fucking idiot.

Oh well.

Quietly, you breathed out the answer, like you were scared of it, “About you.”

Another pause, and this time, your heart was racing against your ribs. Your pulse thrummed in your veins, electric. You couldn’t take the words back now that they were out there – you’d officially thrown in the white flag.

Then, he replied, suddenly a lot more breathy, “Yeah?”

Fuck, you thought. Slowly, you resumed your ministrations, touching yourself to the sound of his voice even though you knew it was wrong. 

I’m going to hell, anyways. Might as well go out with a bang.

Before you could control it, a wanton whimper slipped out from your lips. Fuck.

“What are you doing right now?” He asked. The words were a silky, devilish croon, sweet like they’d been dipped in chocolate.

I’ve been caught red-handed.

Rather than answering him like you probably should have done, you stayed quiet, too ashamed of the situation to speak – which was arguably a whole lot worse.

“I was… trying to get off ‘n…” You huffed out, rolling your hips down into the bed, fingers drawing shapes and circles over the most sensitive part of you and, fuck, it wasn’t nearly enough. Arching your back, you sighed, “Get my mind off of you.”

He replied, “Did it work?”

You answered with a soft, breathless laugh, “Clearly not.”

“Needy baby,” he said, voice dipping just low enough to graze your spine, and you nearly moaned at the mere sound of it. There was a pause on his end, weighted, knowing, before he added, quieter this time, “Put the phone on speaker.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the device, pressing the button with more hesitation than you cared to admit. A soft click, then the room filled with him. That damned voice. That voice that had whispered against your neck, your shoulder, your chest, now flooding the silence of your bedroom like it belonged there.

Like you hadn’t spent the past week hating his guts.

“Can you hear me?”

You swallowed, heart stammering against your ribs. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I hear you.”

And God, did you. You heard the rough edge to his voice, still heavy with sleep. You heard the warmth threading through it despite the hour, the kind of warmth that made your stomach flutter and your chest tighten in the same breath. You felt it in your fingertips, in the back of your throat.

You heard him and, somehow, you knew he’d missed you as much as you had missed him.

“Good,” He answered, “Let me take care of you. Where are your fingers?”

Oh my god, you thought, I’m really doing this, right now?

I’m really about to have phone sex with my fucking Captain.

And you confessed, “Rubbing… circles–”

You could almost see him – seated on the edge of his bed, one hand raking through his hair, jaw clenched, brows knit with something he wasn’t letting himself say.

“Aw… poor thing. Can’t get off without being told what to do, hm?” 

Your throat tightened. He sounded like he was teasing, but there was something else woven into it. That deep, domineering tone – the one that made you want to give yourself up to him entirely.

And, just like that, you were wrapped around his finger all over again.

“Bring those fingers up to your mouth, pretty,” He said after a beat passed. “Get them nice and wet for me.”

Mindlessly, you followed his command. You pulled your fingers away from your needy pussy, out of your pajama pants, and brought the two digits up to your parted mouth. Then, slowly, you wrapped your lips around them, sucking them clean, getting them wet with your spit. You could taste yourself on your own tongue, tangy and sweet.

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel stupid. No, for the first time in a week, you felt sexy, wanted, desired.

“Are you in bed?”

“Mhm,” You hummed back, the sound muffled by your fingers. The wet digits came out of your mouth with a quiet pop. You couldn’t help but yearn for him – wish that he could have been there in person instead of over the phone, wish that it could have been his fingers, pressing down on your tongue, thick and long.

“Put the phone down next to you,” He told you.

You followed again, hand shaking slightly as you laid the phone down on the bed beside you. 

God, this is so depraved, but I don’t even care.

“Good girl,” His voice was warm, low… almost reverent. You would do anything for him so long as he kept on calling you that. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on the sound of his voice, to picture him.

“I want you to reach under your shirt,” He continued, “And tease yourself. Lightly. Just enough to work yourself up.”

Feeling an awful lot like you were blindly following his commands, you slipped your other hand up beneath the hem of your cami. You weren’t wearing a bra – because why the hell would you – so it didn’t take much at all for you to get a handful of your own breast. The skin was warm, soft, malleable beneath your touch. You gave it a tender squeeze, then massaged the flesh in your palm like you had all fucking night. 

A blissful little sigh slipped out as your thumb skittered across your nipple. The skin perked up beneath your fingertips, forming a stiffened peak. Then, as you repeated the gesture – intentionally, this time – another. 

“You sound so pretty, Baby,” He commented, and, fuck, it was enough to send warmth fluttering through your chest, your veins. You felt like you were fucking melting. “What are you wearing?”

The classic line.

“A– A cami and…” You whined, “‘n some pink shorts. No panties.”

It was true. You had planned on getting off tonight (one way or another), and had decided to ditch the panties in an effort to make things easier. 

Of course, you hadn’t banked on calling the man you’d been avoiding to get off, and you sure as hell hadn’t banked on him actually picking up.

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” His breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Why don’t you pull those shorts to the side for me, then, and use your fingers to get off, hm?”

Shaking, you reached down between your thighs. Your fingers grazed the lacy hem of the pink shorts you had on. Then, without questioning where he was going, you pulled the crotch to the side and put your fingers back where they had been only a few moments prior.

You moaned, then – quietly, but it was loud enough that he heard it. The skin between your thighs was gooey, slick, coated in your own arousal. The effect he had on you was absurd. He’d just picked up the phone, and you were already soaked.

“Just like that. Nice and slow,” He hummed. “Now, tell me about those thoughts you were having.”

You swallowed, eyes fluttering shut, chest rising with the weight of the words stuck somewhere between your ribs. Your fingers found your clit once more – like muscle memory – and rolled over the bud in tight, narrow circles.

“Was thinking about what I’d do if I saw you again,” you said softly. “Thinking about – fuck – about how good you feel inside of me.”

Well, this call went 0-100 very quickly, didn’ t it?

“I miss your hands,” you went on, “On my body, on my neck… Fuck, your fingers always feel… so good. Mine don’t feel the same.”

You heard him exhale, a sound like a quiet wind through the receiver.

“Don’t tempt me,” He replied. “Go a little faster now, pretty.”

“I keep thinking about the last time,” you confessed. “How you punished me. How you fucked me.”

Another pause. Then, his voice, softer now. “You’ve got a dirty mouth.”

You blinked up at the ceiling, lips parting. “I’m literally fucking myself to the sound of your voice, and you want to talk about dirty?”

“Never denied it. Keep playing with your chest, Baby,” He continued, “And slip a finger into that pretty pussy for me. Wouldn’t wanna keep her waiting.”

“They’re not as big as yours,” You remarked. Still, you took your hand away from your clit, drawing shapes around your aching entrance. “They won’t feel the same.”

“I know,” He sighed, like he wished he could come through the phone and feel you for himself, “But pretend for a moment. Push it all the way in, then crook it up for me.”

You did exactly that. Your finger caught on that place nestled oh-so deep inside of your cunt, that mushy spot that sent electricity flying up and down your spine. The movement caused another cry to slip out, one of his name, “Aki.”

“I’m here,” He replied. “Feel good?”

“Fuck, yes,” You breathed out. You moved the finger back and forth, caressing your walls, pulling more of those noises out of you – the ones he seemed to love so much.

“Add another finger,” Was his next command, “Let me hear you.”

You swallowed, heart thudding so loud it nearly drowned him out. The silence in your room was too soft, too full of want and everything you hadn’t said. Still, you obeyed, shifting where you lay, skin warm beneath the sheets. The second digit breached your entrance, stretching you open, filling you out just right.

A quiet sound escaped you – breath catching as your body answered before your mouth could.

“There you go,” he murmured, gentler now. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good,” You answered in kind, sliding the two fingers in, out, in again… You were still so tight, so much so that your wrists burned with the strain of moving your knuckles. Still, your fingers found that spot again – over and over, and it was enough to have your jaw dropping, sinful noises pouring from your lips like he was actually here. “Wish it were your fingers instead– Oh my God, Aki.”

And then, you heard it. The quietest sound on the other end of the line. A shift. A breath. A high-pitched, muffled whimper. Your lips parted.

“…Aki?” You asked, your voice gentle, curious. “Are you…?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice had changed – rougher around the edges, deeper. “Keep going, Baby.”

Oh my god.

He’s doing it, too.

He’s getting off to the sound of my voice. 

At the mere thought – the mere image of him laying down with a hand down his pants, stroking himself languidly to the sound of your moans, your words – you tilted your head back, exposing the column of your neck, and breathed, “God, fuck– I need… I wanna feel you moving, throbbing– wanna hear you tell me how good I am for you.”

“You’re always so good for me,” He exhaled, a shuddery, airy sound, followed by a deep, velvety moan, “And you feel so fucking good, too– every time, it feels like the first. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

You giggled – yes, really giggled – and plunged your fingers in a little deeper, until your vision was hazy. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, “Should’ve just told me. Instead of ignoring each other, we could have been fucking each other.”

“You’re the one who said you needed space,” He retorted. 

Touché.

Continuing, he added, “But no one else can make you feel the way I can, huh?”

No, you thought, You have no fucking idea.

“No one– ngh,” You breathed. “Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fuck anyone else.” Arching your back, you let out another moan – long, drawn out, and debauched. “Fuck, Aki, I need you.”

You had been stupid to believe otherwise – stupid to believe that you could possibly have stayed away from him.

No, you were addicted.

“Scissor those fingers, stretch that pussy open for me,” He uttered. “Mmh– bet you look so perfect right now, fucking yourself on your fingers like that. Wish I could see you.”

With a laugh, you teased, “Get your ass over here, then– mhm, shit–” Another arch, another shift of your hips, and your eyes were fluttering shut, “Aki-i.”

“You keep saying my name like that and I just might,” He laughed breathlessly. 

A spark lit inside you – dangerous, reckless. “Please. I’ll be good, promise. I’ll make you feel so good.” The words slipped out before your mind could stop them, raw and urgent.

“I know you will. You always do,” he said, the softness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Please,” you begged, voice barely a whisper.

“Use your words,” he teased, but there was something steady in his tone. “You want me to come over there and make you feel better?”

You hesitated, reality pressing in. It was late, too late for this. “Probably not a good idea. It’s two in the morning.”

“Fuck, it is,” he laughed, the sound warm and rough. “But I would do it if you asked me. I’d take good care of you, too.” The promise in his voice was almost enough to make you say yes.

Hell, with a voice like that, he could make a nun peel her clothes off.

“Really?” You held your breath, the thought of him closing the distance between you sending heat rushing through your veins.

“Of course,” he said simply. “Why, you thinking about it?”

Your mind raced. The loneliness, the ache for him… it was loud, relentless. But, fuck, if you didn’t get him inside of you by the end of the night, you were going to blow your fucking brains out.

He laughed again, low and teasing, like he was reveling in the sound of you begging for him, “God, you’re so bad. You want me, baby?”

You knew this was a terrible idea. You just told him you needed space—that this had to stop—and yet here you were, heart pounding, breath shallow, daring to ask him to come over.

Shit, what am I doing? The question burned in your chest, but it was drowned out by the ache deeper down, the one that made your skin tingle and your stomach twist in desperate knots. You’d been holding it in all week—those unspoken words and half-remembered touches—but tonight, the distance was unbearable. He was the only thing that could soothe the fire that had been growing inside you.

“I need you,” you breathed, voice barely more than a whisper. “Please come over.”

There was a pause, a soft exhale on the other end. “I shouldn’t,” he said, the weight of hesitation heavy in his voice. You could almost hear the struggle behind it.

Then the unmistakable jingle of keys being grabbed. Your heart surged.

“Think you can wait ten minutes?” he asked, a thread of something unreadable – Concern? Longing? –underneath the words.

You closed your eyes, swallowing down the part of your brain still screaming Don’t do this. 

You’d already come this far. 

“I’ve been waiting a whole week,” you said, voice low and shaky but honest. “Just come over and fuck me, Hayakawa.”

There it was. The name on your lips sent a shiver racing down your spine.

He laughed – soft, breathy, a sound that felt like a warm caress through the phone. “I’m coming. I’m coming, don’t worry.”

“I wouldn’t leave my favorite girl waiting,” he added, and that simple sentence made your heart feel impossibly full.

I’m his favorite girl.

He hung up before you could say more, leaving your thoughts spinning.

Your hands trembled as you jumped up, rushing to straighten your apartment like it would make a difference. You wiped the faintest traces of your day off your skin, trying to erase the evidence of any debauchery.

But you didn’t want to disappear – not tonight. Not when he was coming.

You barely recognized your own apartment as you hurried through it, your heart thudding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Every surface got a quick wipe down – the coffee table, cluttered with scattered papers and half-empty mugs, was cleared and polished until it caught the light just right. You shoved laundry into the hamper, smoothed out the rumpled blankets on the couch, and flicked off the harsh overhead light, switching on a small lamp to cast a soft, warm glow across the room.

Your bedroom wasn’t much better, but you did your best to make it look less like the chaos of your week and more like a sanctuary. You plumped the pillows, pulled the sheets tight over the mattress, and folded back the blanket just so. The faint scent of lavender from the linen spray mingled with your own perfume, a hint of something sweet and familiar.

Then you caught your reflection in the mirror and paused. You were still in the same soft, worn pajamas you’d been wearing all night – comfortable but nothing special. 

You tugged at the loose fabric of the pajama top, smoothing it over your curves. With a slow, deliberate motion, you loosened the top few buttons, revealing a sliver of skin at your collarbone. You ran your fingers over the silky material, adjusting it until it clung in just the right places – soft, but… probably sexy.

You hoped.

Your hair was a mess from the day, so you took a moment to run your fingers through it, pushing strands back behind your ears and letting the rest fall in loose waves. You traced the line of your neck, feeling the familiar ache of want settle deeper inside you.

A quick swipe of lip balm, a not-so-subtle douse of perfume and body mist – just enough to make you feel like you were somewhat presentable.

And then, after eleven minutes (yes, you had been anxiously watching the time), a knock sounded at the front door of your apartment.

Your breath hitched, and your hand shook as you moved to answer it.

When you opened the door, there he was – a great deal taller than you, looking like something straight out of a wet dream. He had on a form-fitting black tee – one that hugged his muscular arms and narrow waist, illuminating his broad chest and shoulders – and a pair of loose-fitting gray sweatpants. His hair was down, a little frizzy, and he smelled like a fresh spritz of that cologne you wished you knew the name of. Most importantly, his eyes, wild and blown full of lust, were on you.

He came. And, from the looks of it, he wasn’t in the mood to bring up old grievances, either.

His gaze swept over you, slow and steady — from your tousled hair to the sliver of skin at your midriff your pajama shirt didn’t quite cover. There was hunger in his eyes, sure. But there was something softer too. Like he’d been thinking about this. About you.

“Missed me?” He teased you, shining that crooked grin and, fuck, you couldn’t care less about what the two of you had said in the break room nearly a week earlier. 

He was here, in front of you, and all you wanted to do was jump his bones. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to your level, “Shut up.”

His mouth met yours before you could second-guess yourself. Heat, pressure, the familiar curl of want. Your back hit the door as he deepened the kiss, one of his hands bracing against the wood beside your head, the other sliding down to rest at your waist like he was holding back. Like if he let go, he’d lose control.

You didn’t want him to hold back.

Somewhere between breaths and half-formed words, you stumbled backward together – his hand finding yours, your laugh caught in your throat as you bumped into the hallway wall, then the other. His hand slipped beneath your shirt, warm against your hip, and the way he touched you – not rushed, not rough, just like he knew exactly where you needed him – made you shiver.

“You look good,” he murmured, voice low as his lips grazed your jaw. “These yours?”

You blinked, confused.

“The pajamas,” he clarified, fingers brushing over the fabric at your hip.

I knew he would like it, you thought with a smug little grin.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Didn’t exactly have time to change.”

He huffed a soft laugh, lips brushing your ear. “Good. I like you like this.”

“You came all this way to say that?” you teased.

“Nope,” he grinned, pulling back just enough to look you over, thumb brushing your cheek. “Came here to do this–”

He bent slightly and, without warning, scooped you up in his arms, throwing your legs around his waist with very little effort.

You yelped – and he laughed harder, stumbling a little as he adjusted your weight. Your arms looped around his neck, faces brushing close again, and you were kissing him before he even made it halfway down the hall.

It was clumsy. Dizzy, but fuck, it was hot.

You felt your shoulder bump a wall, and he muttered “shit” between kisses, trying not to trip over his own feet – but neither of you could stop laughing. 

Or kissing. Or touching, for that matter. 

You were pressed so close that you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the strength in his arms, the warmth of his skin through that tight black shirt. Close enough that your lips slid together like fucking puzzle pieces, tongues slipping against one another like you were fighting for dominance.

Your hands were in his hair, tugging at it, and when you whispered, “Need you to fuck me, Aki,” he groaned – just loud enough to make your stomach twist.

“Don’t say shit like that unless you want me to drop you,” he warned, voice gravel-soft, teasing, lips brushing your neck now as he made it through your bedroom door.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I might.”

But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed you again – slower this time, deeper –and the world around you spun just a little.

Oh, you were so screwed.

By the time he reached your bed, you were breathless. Your fingers tugged at the back of his shirt. His mouth was at your jaw. You felt like you were burning alive in the best possible way.

He leaned down, pressing you gently to the mattress like you were something fragile. Like he wasn’t about to break you.

He hovered over you for a moment, gazing down like he was trying to piece together something he didn’t have the words for. Then he leaned in again, brushing his lips across your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Not rushed. Like he was trying to linger in every second before it slipped away. You tilted your head, welcoming him closer, a shaky breath leaving you when his mouth found the base of your throat.

He sighed against your skin – long, slow, and pretty – like this was the one place in the world he wanted to be. 

Your fingers drifted up the hem of his shirt, tugging it off of his head, needing more of him, needing to feel all the places where he was warm and solid and real. You weren’t even sure what you were chasing anymore.

“I missed this,” you whispered without really meaning to.

He didn’t answer with words. Just exhaled softly, the sound muffled against your collarbone. Then, with a quiet curse under his breath, he sat back on his knees and reached behind his head, gathering his hair to tie it. The motion was efficient, practiced, but there was something about it that made your stomach turn over. A kind of anticipation that curled low and deep.

Oh, he’s about to get to work.

His pretty blue eyes flicked up to meet yours once he finished, like he wanted to make sure you really wanted this. Then, he smiled.

Still, he reached for you again, hands steady, gaze lingering on your face like he was trying to read you. You spread your thighs for him instinctively, welcoming, open – and he didn’t need words to understand.

No, the moment before his head dipped, before his mouth met your skin again, you knew he understood. Nothing else mattered – not the conversations, not the arguments, not the consequences.

Just him. Just now.

“Oh my God,” You gasped out, feeling his tongue ghost over your sodden slit, parting the folds and gathering slick into his mouth.

He sucked on you with the most satisfied moan, like you were a fresh-baked dessert, melting on his tongue. Then, without a word of warning, he gripped the back of your thighs with two strong hands and got to work making a mess out of you. 

His mouth was hot, warm, everything your fingers couldn’t be. And, shit, he was on a mission to devour you. He dragged his tongue up and down, up and down, until the tip of it caught on your clit. Then, like he was trying to finish the job you had started, he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth and licked over it. 

Over and fucking over again.

You leaned back, all the way back, and arched up, lifting your stomach off of the bed. You weren’t even trying to hide it – the way your body reached for him, the way you gasped softly every time his mouth skimmed over a new inch of your skin.

God, you needed this. You needed him, all along.

He lowered his head again, lips barely grazing the skin of your stomach, each touch feather-light and slow, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. The warmth of his breath against your cunt sent shivers rippling through you, igniting a fire deep inside that spread with every little lick. His mouth moved with an urgency, practiced and insistent.

Your body responded immediately, arching into his touch, the small of your back lifting higher off the bed.. The tension you’d been holding onto – the ache, the longing, the frustration – started to melt under the heat of his mouth. 

Fuck, he knew how to make you forget.

Every suck, every kitten lick was a whisper of desire, slow and deliberate, pulling you deeper into a place you hadn’t been since the last time he was with you.

Holy shit, you thought, Why is he so good at that? It’s unfair.

His hands slid up your sides, fingers tracing lazy, intimate patterns across your ribs and along your waist while he dove in deeper, shifting his head to the side to get a better angle into your needy pussy. The contrast between his cool fingertips and the heat of your skin made your breath hitch, your chest rising and falling unevenly beneath him. 

He moved with a speed that was almost unbearable, lips exploring, tasting, worshipping the apex of your pleasure.

Then, he slipped two fingers into your hole – right where yours had been only half an hour earlier – and began to move them around.

You felt your body begin to unravel beneath him, nerves alight and skin humming with pleasure from his touch. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently as if to pull him closer, to keep him where you could feel him – close enough to burn. 

“Oh my fucking god,” You pleaded, “Please– Fuck, don’t stop.”

His tongue drew expert shapes over your clit, leaving a trail of hot, lingering kisses that made your breath shudder. At the same time, his fingers crooked up, easily finding your G-spot like he knew your body better than you did. 

The ache in your belly deepened, a delicious tension tightening in your core. You pressed into him, arching higher, wanting more of the way he made you feel – wanted, alive, undone. The room shrank around you, fading until all that mattered was the warmth of his lips on your heat and the steady rhythm of his mouth, the way your moans tangled together in the thick air.

At the curve of your hip, he paused, lips pressing a tender kiss that made your entire body pulse with need. Then, as if savoring the moment, he licked a stripe from the bottom to the top, then back down again – sucking you into his mouth again and again until you were seeing fucking stars.

A raunchy moan escaped you, breath ragged and trembling, as the sensation built inside like a wave about to crash. 

His hands roamed higher now, tracing the sensitive skin just below your ribs, fingers splayed as though to hold you together even as you fell apart. You were burning alive in the best way, consumed by the torment of his touch.

But even as the fire inside you blazed, a part of your mind whispered warning, reminding you of the promises made, the lines drawn, the distance you’d sworn to keep. The tangled mix of desire and caution pulled at you, making your breath shallow, heart hammering in your chest. 

You wanted to surrender completely, to fall into the heat of the moment and forget everything else, but a flicker of doubt held you back.

“Fuck!” You cried out, “So good, just like that–”

Still, the pull of him was too strong. Your fingers tightened in his hair, nails digging gently into his scalp, urging him closer. Your body arched instinctively, craving the fullness of him, the weight of him pressed against you. The ache in your stomach was no longer just frustration – it was need. Raw, undeniable need.

His eyes lifted to meet yours briefly, dark and searching, filled with something you couldn’t name but recognized deep in your bones. For a heartbeat, the world stood still – just the two of you, caught between the pull of what was right and what felt inevitable.

Breaking away to gasp for air, he spoke gruffly, “Look at me. You close?”

“Mhm!” Was all you managed to get out. While his mouth had broken away, his fingers hadn’t slowed down one bit. No, they kept on massaging that spot inside of you, pulling the strings of your orgasm apart bit by fucking bit. 

God, you were so fucking close. 

“I want you to look at me when you cum,” He groaned.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he pressed his lips back to your pussy, trailing kisses down your neck, each one a soft promise, a whispered plea. Your breath hitched again, body trembling under the weight of sensation. The sound you made was quiet but full of everything you were holding back: longing, desperation, the ache of missing him more than you could say.

You let your fingers drift lower, exploring the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, needing to feel every part of him close. The heat of his touch, the softness of his lips against your skin, it all made your head spin. 

You told him you needed a break.

And yet, here you were, unraveling on his face, unable to resist.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ cum,” You gasped out, clawing at the sheets with one hand, tugging at his ponytail with the other, “Fuck, don’t stop–”

With a small, breathless sigh, you finally let go. The walls you’d built around yourself crumbled, piece by piece, as you surrendered to the moment. Your body melted beneath him, every nerve ending alive and aching for more. The tension that had coiled inside you snapped free, leaving you trembling and undone.

You came hard. His hands held you steady, grounding you as you gave in completely. You arched into him, lost to the sensation, to the feeling of being seen and wanted and held. It was messy, raw, and beautiful all at once.

You rode out the waves of it, hips jumping against his face, smearing an obscene mix of your juices and his spit all over his face. 

You came down slowly, the heat inside you fading into a delicious ache that spread through your limbs and settled deep in your bones. Your breath was ragged, chest rising and falling unevenly, your skin slick with sweat, every nerve ending humming with aftershocks. That desperate, raw craving that had driven you moments ago still lingered, like a spark waiting to ignite again.

It was only then that he broke away.

Aki’s breathing was heavy too, rough and uneven, his chest rising and falling. His hair was wild, tousled in all the right ways, bangs falling over his forehead, sticky with sweat. His eyes caught yours, wild and hungry, like he was burning from the inside out, like he couldn’t get enough.

He pushed himself up, slow and sure. Then, with the bottom half of his face still dripping wet, he leaned in and kissed you – with a hell of a lot of tongue, like he wanted you to see how you tasted.

I need more, You thought.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands slid over his chest, fingertips dragging lightly across hot skin, as you pushed him down onto the bed with a slow, fierce smile. Your hips settled onto his, straddling him, the heat between your bodies scorching through the thin fabric of your clothes. Like they were personally at fault for the fact that he wasn’t buried inside of you at the moment, you wiggled out of your shorts and cast them to the side. 

Your next mission? To get Aki out of those damn sweatpants and into your guts.

Your hands slid down to the waistband of his pants, fingers trembling just a little as you pulled them down, slow and deliberate. The cool air kissed the skin it revealed, sending goosebumps racing along his hips. That pretty dick of his bounced free, hard as hell and flushed a pretty shade of pink at the tip.

Without hesitation, you shifted forward, pressing your warmth against it, grinding slowly at first, testing the reaction. Then, once you looked down at him and saw the need in his eyes, you lined up with him and sank the rest of the way down

His breath hitched on a moan – a low, ragged sound that vibrated through your chest – and you felt it in your own throat.

“God,” he hissed.

“Fucking hell,” You gasped out, reveling in the feeling of him splitting you open from this angle.

Your movements grew bolder, more urgent, hips rolling with more intent as the heat between you flared higher. You braced your hands on his chest, fucking back onto his dick over and over again like you were on a fucking mission. You could hear the soft, desperate noises slipping past your lips, the rough sound of his breathing quickening.

God, I missed this.

You were both flushed, your skin slick with heat, breaths uneven and voices tangled in quiet need. Your heart pounded like a drum in your ears, the air thick with tension that wrapped around you both like a second skin. Every time he bottomed out inside of you, your nerves burned so deliciously that you couldn’t help but moan, whine, cry out for him like you didn’t have neighbors.

He shifted beneath you, hands finding your waist, fingers digging in just enough to anchor you, steady you. In tandem, you shifted your weight onto the balls of your feet, adjusting your hands on his chest to give you enough leverage to start bouncing a little harder, pressing your body flush to his, feeling the tight coil of desire building between you. You could feel how much he wanted you – not just the wild hunger in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched, and the tremble in his breath, but in the way he fucking throbbed inside of you, filling you out like you were molded to the shape of him.

Your moans mingled, quiet and needy, filling the space between you like a secret language only you two understood.

Aki’s eyes were still on you, wild and storm-colored, lashes low and damp from the heat of the moment. His hair was a mess, falling into his boyish face in loose strands, some of it clinging to his cheek, others caught behind his ear. 

You couldn’t tear your gaze away, not even if you tried. Not from the way he looked at you. Not from the way his hands settled at your hips.

And God, the way he exhaled. A sound so low and shaky you felt it in your throat.

“You look good on top of me,” He noted with a hum.

"You're… ridiculous," you murmured, but there was no venom behind it. Just breathlessness.

"Yeah?" His voice was raspy, fingers twitching slightly on your hips. “You look like you’re about to pass out and still won’t slow down.”

"I can't," you admitted. “Feels too good.”

His hands shifted, gliding from your hips to your thighs, squeezing once – slow and grounding – and you shivered. Every inch of your skin was alive, electric with how close you were. How warm his abs felt under you, how his every breath moved you with it. His sweatpants had ridden low on his hips, just enough for you to be able to fuck him without wasting time on getting them off.

You moved again, faster this time. Testing. Letting the friction build in small, incremental waves. And when your breath hitched, he breathed out a curse, gripping your thighs just a little tighter.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “So desperate for it. You’re squeezing me, Baby.”

You rolled your hips again in response, slow, deliberate. “Like you’re any better,” you whispered.

His hands slid up to your waist again, holding you steady now as your rhythm faltered from how sensitive you’d become. You tried to say something smart, something teasing, but all that came out was a stuttering moan when he guided your hips up, down, up, down.

“Doing so good for me,” he said softly, just beneath his breath, like he couldn’t fucking believe it. “Shit, this pussy was made for me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, half-choked by the way your legs were starting to tremble. “Don’t… don’t say that.”

“Why?” He hummed, the sound of it low and amused, but warm. “You gonna fall apart on me again?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really.

You were too busy fucking his brains out.

Everything was getting fuzzy. Your hands slid up his chest, over the curve of his shoulders, anchoring yourself against him. Your body moved without thought now, chasing the high, chasing the warmth of his voice and the press of his fingers and the way he let you use him without question. 

You were wetter than you had been moments ago. In fact, every time you bounced up and down, the most sinful sounds came from your bodies – squelching, moaning, fucking.

And Aki looked like he was about to break.

He watched your mouth fall open. Watched your lashes flutter. Watched your head tip back and your fingers clench and your rhythm stutter. You clenched down around him like you would die if he slipped out, even for a moment.

“Come here,” he whispered, sitting up just enough to press his forehead to yours.

You let your arms wrap around him, forehead pressed back to his. Your nose brushed his, your breaths tangled, and he held you like you were something fragile again. Like this wasn’t just a release, but something more. Something heavier.

And when your thighs finally started to give out—when your body gave that last little twitch of exhaustion—he didn’t hesitate.

He caught you. Picked you up. Shifted you back without a word and guided you against him, moving you in his lap with an urgency that made your eyes sting.

You let him. And, somehow, he slid even deeper in.

“Oh my god,” You gasped out.

Let him take over, let him hold you, guide you, let him breathe your name in that low, reverent way that always turned your bones to ash.

You weren’t thinking straight. Not about the breakroom, not about the space you’d asked for. Not about how complicated everything had gotten between you.

Right now, there was only him.

Only Aki, fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

Only the warmth of his skin and the rasp of his voice and the feeling of your bodies pressed so closely together you swore there was nothing left between you. Just tension. Just longing. Just heat.

And when he finally let go, when you felt the tremble of it in his body, the quiet gasps against your collarbone, the way he pulled you in closer.

You knew.

You could lie to yourself all you wanted about needing distance, about making clean breaks. But deep down, you were already his.

“Aki–” You cried out, fucking back onto his dick while he moved you up and down. “‘M gonna fucking cum.”

“I’ve got you,” Aki murmured, voice low and breathless, his arms wrapping tight around your back. One hand slid to your spine, fingers splayed there, grounding you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Your breath caught, staggered, stuck in your throat like a sob. You couldn’t keep yourself upright anymore.

A tremor ran through your limbs, and then you gasped, sharply, while the world tilted on axis. You came for the second time that night, and it was glorious. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, his chest, your thighs trembled, and you burst like a bubble on top of him. 

You collapsed onto him a moment later.

Your chest pressed flush to his, your forehead landing clumsily against the curve of his neck. Your hands found his shoulders, warm and solid and shaking just slightly beneath your fingers, and clung there, trying to steady yourself, trying to breathe.

But it was hard. Everything was spinning.

Your eyes fluttered open, catching his wild gaze. For a moment, everything slowed down. The tension, the chaos, the confusion all melted away, leaving just the two of you.

And then it hit you – like a spark igniting a fire you hadn’t dared admit before. 

You realized, really fucking realized, just how deep this went. 

Your breath hitched, trembling as you pressed your forehead to his neck. The words tumbled out before your mind could stop them, raw and urgent, carried on the heat of the moment.

“I love you,” you gasped, voice breaking.

His breath hitched too, a sharp intake just as his body tensed beneath you. His fingers clenched at your back, and you felt the pulse of him deep inside of you as he finally came, sending shockwaves up your spine. He finished with the prettiest, most velvety moan you’d ever heard, eyes and head rolling back while he reached his peak, spilling heat into your guts.

He was breathing hard, too – quick, uneven exhales. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your thighs, the warmth of his skin, the steady drum of his heart. 

Then, like he just processed what you’d said, he looked at you, “What?”

Your throat went dry. You swallowed hard, the truth slipping out before you could stop it. “I… I love you.”

There was a pause, long and heavy, but he didn’t say it back. You hadn’t expected him to.

But, fuck, that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I…” He trailed off.

You lay on him after, your breath still shaky, the weight of your confession hanging in the quiet between you. Your fingers traced faint circles on his chest as you tried to steady yourself, as he pulled his pants back up over his hips.

Breathe.

“You don’t have to say it back, but…” you whispered. “We can’t keep doing this.”

He stayed silent for a moment.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” you continued, voice soft but steady. “And… I think this has to be the last time. The last time we’re like this.”

“Okay,” he finally said, still sounding out of it.

“Okay?” Your voice cracked with disbelief. “That’s all you have to say? After everything?”

“What more do you want me to say?” His voice was low, tired. “I can’t ask you to stay. It would be unfair.” He sighed deeply. “My heart can’t be in it. You deserve something better than that.”

You searched his face, desperate for something real. “Is it, though? Is your heart in it? Because one minute, you don’t give a shit, but the next, you’re asking to see me, telling me you care, that I’m your favorite girl. I think you’re bullshitting me.” Your voice broke, the ache coming to the surface. “I can’t keep doing this – the back and forth, the waiting. It’s messing with my head.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. “I do care,” he said quietly. “More than I probably should. But this job… it doesn’t leave any room for that. Getting close like this – it’s dangerous. There’s no place for love in Public Safety,” He opened his eyes again, meeting your gaze with raw honesty. “Besides, you deserve more than half of me. I can’t… be what you need.”

He was breaking your fucking heart. The worst part? You couldn’t even hate him for it.

No, he was right.

There was no place for love in your line of work.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Aki. I need you to be real.” You searched his face, desperate to find some flicker of what you knew was there beneath the walls he put up. “It’s more than just Public Safety… You say you don’t feel anything, that you can’t. But the way you act– the way you look at me sometimes – tells me otherwise. Make up your fucking mind!”

He looked at you then, that usual armor faltering for just a second. He was at a loss for words, and for once, you saw the man beneath the surface – the one caught between what he wanted and what he thought he should do.

“I meant what I said,” You continued, “But, God, you’re such a fucking dick sometimes.”

“I told you from the start that this would be a bad idea,” He retorted, furrowing his brows. “Don’t act like you didn’t beg me to do it anyway– like you weren’t the one who begged me to come over here tonight. Yeah, maybe I’m a dick, but you’re just as guilty as I am.”

The sting of his words hit you like a ton of bricks, the accusation wrapped in truth. You had pushed, pressed, begged for moments like this even though the consequences loomed large. You’d been the one to open the door, to invite chaos in, and now it was crashing down around you.

You couldn’t even blame him.

You felt the ache settle deep inside – the hurt of being called out but also the frustration of the tangled mess you both had created.

He sighed, the fight draining from him. The tension in his shoulders softened, his voice dropping to something quieter, almost remorseful. “That was mean. I’m sorry. Look, I think we should talk–”

Your heart hammered in your chest, raw and aching, but your voice was firm, trembling with the weight of everything you couldn’t say aloud. “I don’t want to talk.”

“But, I–”

“I think you should leave,” you cut him off, the anger simmering just beneath your words. “You were right. This won’t work.”

“Maybe I should,” he said back, voice low, heavy with a weight you could almost see pressing down on him. He looked as if he was about to say something else, something that could change everything, but the words got stuck, lost somewhere between his heart and his mind. Instead, he simply looked at you, conflicted, torn.

He slid out of bed slowly, like he was trying to avoid the inevitable. 

He reached for his shirt and pulled it on, the fabric slipping over his skin like a barrier between the two of you. You watched him, your chest tightening, every second feeling like you were fucking dying inside.

He paused by the door, turning to face you one last time. His eyes were dark and serious, but there was something softer there too – regret, perhaps. 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered quietly, the apology so heavy it seemed to fill the room with silence.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, but it echoed through your chest, louder than anything else had ever been before. You sat there frozen for a moment, the quiet swallowing you whole.

And then the dam broke.

The tears came fast, hot, and uncontrollable, sliding down your cheeks, burning your skin. Your whole body shook as you sank into the mattress, overwhelmed by the weight of everything – the love you couldn’t hold, the future you’d lost, the man you wanted so desperately but couldn’t keep.

You cried until there was nothing left but the memory of his face – dejected, words on the tip of his tongue – when you had sent him away. 

Had he been about to say it back? You thought. No, don’t be ridiculous.

You slapped the pillow over your face, groaning into it.

If I’m doing the right thing, then why does it feel so wrong?

All you knew was that you'd sent him away, and it felt like you'd just fired a gun through your chest.

a/n: how are yall? im sorry lol. as i said over on tumblr, we're going to see more glimpses into aki's mind as the story progresses to its conclusion. will that be a good thing? stay tuned ;) as always, feel free to say hi or drop a comment telling me what you thought (if you hate me, thats okay too, feel free to let it out. this is a safe space lMKFAOAOAO). love you all!! x (dont worry, i'll do some damage control. trust the process.)

credits: einruji__ on twitter . I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @mrshayakawaa, @xxpr3ttyk173rxx

wanna join the taglist? | pornstar ; chapter index

[princesssarcastia]

listen to me. are you listening? tiktok is not uniquely anything when it comes to the internet. it is a tool and a platform like any other, used by all kinds of people—by nearly every kind of person or entity to whom it is available, in fact! and while what the u.s. government is doing right now to force the ownership of the company to change hands is bad and happening for the wrong reasons, to put it mildly—

claiming that the u.s. establishment is interested in shutting down tiktok because its been sooooo good and revolutionary for progressive/left-wing organizing is uhh. horse shit. that's not true. everyone uses tiktok. you, statistically, probably use tiktok. so do some of the congresspeople endorsing legislation that might end in tiktok being banned. so do right-wing influencers and terfs and trad-wives. just like everyone uses every other social media site.

don't fall into that trap of thinking that just because you and the people in your circle use this tool for good, that this tool is only used for good. it is actually just a tool for everyone!

here's an excerpt from a book called, The Wires of War, by Jacob Helberg which, if you're interested in why the u.s. congress is actually pulling this shit with tiktok, is a great read. this excerpt follows a section where Helberg described the role social media played in the Arab Spring in 2011. emphasis mine.

It would be several years before the 2016 election awakened the West to the ways in which the Internet could exploit the vulnerabilities of their societies. But for the autocrats in Bejing, Moscow, and Tehran, the Arab Spring was a technological awakening of their own. Seeing other repressive governments around the world crumble, illiberal regimes in Russia and China accelerated their treatment of the information space as a domain of war. "Tech-illiterate bureaucrats were replaced by a new generation of enforcers who understood the internet almost as well as the protesters," write Singer and Brooking in their book, LikeWar: The Weaponization of Social Media. "In truth, democratic activists had no special claim to the internet. They'd simply gotten there first. "

[dangoulains-devotion]

yuffie has many interesting elements to her but people refuse to move past "i find energetic kids annoying" and it makes me sad

[hollenka99]

YouTube yesterday: Hey btw The Longest Johns just released a song about Horatio Nelson's death.

Me: Cool, excuse me as I stare off into space and think about L'Manburgian soldiers' reaction to hearing about Kiril's dying to withering whenever I play the song.

[hoothootmotherf-ckers]

can people please stop filming the entire fucking world around them for public consumption? and especially random fucking strangers who you did not ask???

I work at a park and man the front desk. and I'm photographed and filmed a lot. I'm talking easily 20+ times per day. most of the times, it's parents filming me swearing in their kids as junior rangers. which. they're intending to film their kids. what they get is me and the back of their kids' heads.

there's this recurring problem that like. people forget we're real people? like yeah you're filming your kid, but you're filming me interacting with your kid. I could count the amount of times someone has asked me permission to do this in the past year on one hand. and sometimes that's after they already start filming.

Like, I'm not an actor. I did not agree to this. You could be a dick and make the argument that I'm a public figure, but I'm not. This is not a persona and my uniform is not a costume. I'm a person trying to do my job and help people and teach them about science and history. And you know what makes it harder to do that? The knowledge that anything I say or do could end up shared with thousands of people. The fact that if I fuck up the wording of this kid's junior ranger pledge, or I sneeze, or make some basic mistake, it's not just a funny or embarrassing moment for me and this one family. It could end up on tiktok.

And okay, those are the people intending to film their own kids and not thinking or caring about the collateral. What's worse is the people who film everything. A few times a week some guy walks into the visitor center, phone already horizontal in front of their face, narrating what they're doing and seeing. They come up to the desk and ask me questions, phone in my face. They take wide establishing shots of the visitor center and every visitor in it. None of us agreed to this! None of these people consented to be in your youtube video! We are not the fucking set dressing of whatever travel instagram story you're making!

I don't know where I'm going with this. This is really only the tip of the iceberg. Sometimes people ask us to repeat what we just did - swear in their kid, or explain a detail, or hand them a fucking map - so they can get a second take, and they're already filming so if we say no we look like the asshole. Sometimes we're asked innocuous things like to point out a landmark, and next week there's a photo of us in the 15,000 member Rangers Pointing at Things facebook group (yep, real thing). One time my entire 45 minute evening program was filmed without my permission and I was informed after the fact. This happens all the time, and I'm giving park ranger examples, but this happens to so many people in service work or public positions every single fucking day.

I guess just, next time you go to film in a public space, take a second. Think about who you're about to film, if they agreed to that, what might happen if a video of them went viral. there's a reason I'm not out as trans at work. And then, maybe. don't. or at least fucking ask.

[simpjaes]

HYPER-SEXUAL (s,jy)

If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need. or the one where jake is inexperienced, incredibly perverted, and borderline addicted to sex but cannot, for the life of him, land a girl.

leave feedback and reblog to give jake another boner. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 13.8k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader

CONTENT― smut, inexperienced but pervy and dominant jake, he kind of has an addiction to jerking off, im not joking like he has a boner every twenty minutes it’s probably a medical issue but, reader is really sex positive and lets jake go absolutely insane on her

NOTE― not proof read in the way it needed to be.  disclaimer: this is straight up just porn. it had a plot at one point but i deleted all of it and wrote this instead. also this is posted on my other blog [@ncteez] for mark lee. yes, i wrote it for both of them bc they both fit the shoe ok? ok.

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― jake isn’t submissive– just a loser, loads of masturbation, also loads of loads lmfao, jake’s dick is 8 inches in this one, public humiliation, dirty talk, teasing, pussy eating / face sitting, mentions of free use, unprotected sex, wayyyy way too much cum, raw grinding, attempts at deep throat, accidental face fucking, finger fucking, suffocation, riding, squirting, implications to the fact that orgasms are not the end of the fic bc they just keep going, some say they’re still fucking to this day. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Feels so good! Harder! Fuck m-” 

Jake slams his laptop shut in an exasperated sigh. Frustrated, annoyed, fucking horny. 

Always horny. To the point that nothing excites him anymore. Not his hard-on being palmed at by his own hand, not the make-shift pocket pussy he’s made out of household objects, not the porn on page one or on page seventy-three. 

Honestly, even as hard as he is now, it’s arguable that he could just start punching his cock and he’d still remain in this state until something changes. And you know what sucks more than not being able to get off? Being hard so constantly that it’s just a state of living at this point. 

It’s sad. He could be washing caked ketchup off of a plate and his cock would still lend a little jump. A reminder that his hand is no longer enough. A fucking threat that if he doesn’t sink into a pretty hole soon, he might as well just kill himself. 

The idea doesn’t seem too bad anymore, as he lays flat on his back with his cock in hand on his messy sheets. He stares up at the ceiling with another long-winded groan, wondering why he has to have such an insatiable libido and probably twice as much stamina. If he could just get off he’d have at least a little bit of time in his day to feel normal before it takes hold of his brain again. 

It’s the fact that he’s grown entirely numb to his own hand and feels like he’s going crazy because he hasn’t been able to hook-up with anyone in nearly a year. Porn is boring, he swears he’s seen just about all of the good, bad, and bizarre. Post nut clarity barely exists because there is no clarity by the time he finally gets that hard-to-reach nut. Bad luck, maybe. Awful fucking miserable luck? That’s more fitting. 

For the sake of the girls in this city, perhaps it’s good that he can’t manage to land a hook-up. Surely they’d be unable to walk by the time he gets his fill, that is if he manages to get a fill at all. And it’s gotten to the point that Jake has almost entirely given up on finding a girl at all. One that’s willing to put up with his near-constant need to get his dick wet, anyway. 

Almost given up.

A thought crosses his mind as he lazily palms himself with a bored sigh, knowing he’ll end up locked up in an asylum somewhere if this doesn’t stop. The voice of Jay in his head doing little to make his cock soften, which is…not something Jake is proud to admit.

“Dude, you gotta put a stop to this shit. This is your third laptop this year!” Jay had said to him. “It’s only June!”

Maybe Jay was right, and maybe Jake should have downloaded the new app that was mentioned shortly after the scolding rather than immediately going to another, even more, shady porn site. “Heard this one was really good.” Jay had advertised. “Even got Jungwon laid.” 

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to try another app despite the immense amount of failure Jake has already faced regarding previous attempts with other platforms. After all, if it got Jungwon laid, surely it could get him laid too. 

Maybe this one really is better.

And at the end of the day, Jake does download the app. After all, creating a profile is easy, finding a girl though? 

We’ll see.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah. Okay. Nice.

Jake stays glued to his phone all night. He really had no hope that this app would offer him anything more than what the others did. But, oh. 

The app allows specific features, most of which are not aimed towards users looking for a relationship. Dick and body sizes are out in the open, there’s sections you can fill out regarding what you’re looking for in a sexual partner, how often you’re willing to see said partner, and if you’re looking for a regular fuck or a one time fuck. 

Safe to say, Jake’s profile went a little something like this: 

you can call me jake, im 24. just looking for a girl either for regular visits or a one night stand that’s willing to deal with a guy who literally suffers from chronic-boner syndrome.

LOOKING FOR: Female PREFERENCE: One Time Only, Occasional Meetups, On-call, Regular meetups, Permanent Friends-With-Benefits, Secret Meet, Virtual Meet, Audio Meet, Rebound C…[Click to see more] PARTNER REQUIREMENTS: N/A SIZE REFERENCE: 8 ½” hard, 4” soft, 5.6” circumference SEXUAL INTERESTS: Vanilla, Free Use, BDSM, Begging, Breeding, Dom/Sub, Dominatrix, CBT, Role Play, Public Humiliation, Edging, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Virtual Sex, Group Sex, Humiliation, Cock Play, Cum Dump, Religion, Raw, Multiple Orgasms, Androgyny, Genital Piercings, Older Women, Body Art, Wax, Anal, Financial Domina...[Click to see more]

NOT INTERESTED IN: Cuckolding, Voyeurism OTHER: im not very experienced in most of these, i just watch a lot of porn

Embarrassing? Yeah, probably. 

Looks like a lot of women are into that though if his inbox is anything to go by, anyway. With him checking the app every few minutes to find ten new messages? Yeah, they’re feeling him. 

He can only imagine what the fuck Jungwon had on his profile to actually land a hook-up. Couldn’t have been any worse than his own, after all, Jake is desperate and so was Jungwon at one point. 

Apparently girls like desperate guys. 

Message after message, degrading comments and praise, all from either women clad in leather or sweet looking church girls who must have the app hidden deep within their phones. There’s barely anyone in between those two categories, actually. 

“Hi baby boy, you looking for a sugar mama?” 

“ur dick really that big? lol, what do you even mean by ‘chronic boner syndrome’?” 

“you’re so desperate to get laid, might as well just doxx yourself at this point…please.”

Arguably, these women are very forward and he has a great time sifting through the ones he’s interested in. Scrolling through all of these messages….does not help his case regarding his insatiable need to fuck something either so, naturally, he’s also 100% jerking off the entire time he’s doing this.

Still, never quite able to reach the orgasm he needs by this point.

Up until there’s a message that catches his attention. No degrading, no insults, no borderline-too-kinky insinuations. Which, given, Jake probably shouldn’t have selected the majority of the kinks just to pull more girls, but he did. 

And upon reading the message, he almost doesn’t know if this girl is real. 

“High libido, no girls around to help you out, I take it? Rough.”

One look at her profile spikes even more interest. Her sexual interests include a list of things he wishes he didn’t fit. But he does, though he’d never admit it. Inexperienced men, losers, virgins, micro-penis, big penis, praise (receiving), body worship–

Oh.

Fuck yeah.

He responds quickly, already feeling the orgasm within him bubble up as he tries to pretend he doesn’t go on a war path of responding to everyone after you, but still. Your message box with him remains in his mind as he awaits the response to his message of “you looking to help me out?” 

Every ping on his phone afterwards makes his cock twitch more, makes it dribble out little beads of pre-cum with each pass of his palm, only for him to sigh out of frustration that it’s just another person that wants to devour him whole. Which, he’ll take what he can get if his first choice never responds but still. He wants to get off to you.

He finds himself on your profile more often than anyone else’s too, looking at the same three photos you’ve posted, noting how you don’t seem super active on the app, but active enough to find him by some beautiful grace of God. 

You’re kind of perfect, honestly. Fairly mundane compared to most of the women in his inbox, but cool nonetheless. He can tell you have an eye for fashion but it seems to be more geared towards your real life self rather than the secret fetish/kink app you’ve got downloaded.

And that’s the thing. Most of these women, beautiful or not, are dressed in their best sexual attire just to message a possible fuck, while during their daily lives they probably wear conservative dresses and pant suits. Which….arguably that’s kind of hot. Then again, what isn’t hot to him these days?

You though. You have normal pictures posted just like he does. Your tits aren’t out, your legs aren’t open, you don’t have a pile of sex toys behind or beside you and yet still your pictures turn him on more than those who do. Insane how his cock twitches at just these three photos, fucking insane how he grows a near instant obsessed thinking about how you…uh, deal with the losers you seem to be looking for.  

Then again, maybe it’s the mystery of what’s under your clothes, or what’s in your stash of sex toys. Oh, whatever you’re hiding has got be so fucking hot. Naturally, he groans at the amount of sexuality you barely give. Thinking far, far too hard about it all, given the circumstances. 

Don’t get him wrong, he can get down with the hoes. In fact, he very much wants to get down with a hoe. But man, the way you stand out because you’re somehow….boring compared to everyone else?

Please.

Fucking pretty please, let him in between those thighs. 

And just as he scrolls again through your photos, that long-awaited orgasm hits him like a brick.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A mere two days later you find yourself in the inbox with the self-proclaimed boner-god. He’s since proven his size with photos involving different objects beside said penis, and even a video or two of his frantic hands jerking off to you. 

Ah, he’s kind of perfect if you think about it. At first you thought that it was just roleplay for him or something. Where he plays a guy who can’t get enough, though he clearly probably does. It wasn’t until you were woken up at four in the morning with him spamming your inbox that you suddenly realized this dude is actually as desperate as he seems. 

Normally, being spammed awake by your phone pinging consistently would bother you. But goddamn was he needing it. Just three hours before now it was mostly casual conversation with him, albeit about hooking-up, but still. The two of you agreed to determine on the following day if you were compatible enough for a meet up. He said goodnight to you, and you said it back. 

Then you woke up to three dick pics, one voice note with a borderline pathetic apology (only because you could still hear him going at it), and then like fourteen messages of him trying to wake you up intentionally. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You awake?

Dick pic #1. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You’re so pretty, sorry lol

Dick pic #2 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Wake uppppppppppp! 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Please? :(

Dick pic #3, precum smeared across his fingers as he grips it. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message:  Do you already have me silenced?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: I’d let you silence me hahaha….

JAKE_02 sent you a voice memo: “Sorry about all this, I really meant it when I said I have a problem. You should probably just block me because I’m going to end up begging to see you otherwise”

Oh, he has an accent. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: your profile says you like inexperience…..well i’ve only slept with like 3 girls, is that inexperienced enough?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like to tease guys like that? like edge them and stuff? 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: oh damn, that’d be so hot 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like it when guys beg btw? 

Etcetera. 

And, well, apparently he just has a lot to say. It’s cute how embarrassed he must feel basically getting himself off with a one-sided sext session with you as you were sleeping. At least, you hope he’s embarrassed. 

You let his messages simmer for a while, waiting to see if he sends anything else. And when he doesn’t, you respond. 

YOURUSERNAME: that was cute. 

It’s the way he’s instantly trying to respond that really gets you going. You chuckle first, knowing already that you’d probably help him out based on this situation alone. 

YOURUSERNAME: trying to wake me up because you can’t stop touching yourself? :( poor baby. 

JAKE_02: oh god please don’t say that

JAKE_02: im gonna end up awake all night trying to get it to go down again

YOURUSERNAME: that’s good to hear. so you can go for a long time then? 

Yes, you’re teasing him. 

JAKE_02: if you’d let me

YOURUSERNAME: you already got off tonight tho, didn’t you?

JAKE_02: i don’t think you understand just how bad it is. i’m already getting my dick out again

You lend yourself a sly chuckle after a deep yawn, knowing for a fact that you’re about to make him prove to you that he’s either still hard or really did get off only to get hard again by a mere few messages from you. 

YOURUSERNAME: show me?

And he does. Similar to the other three photos, only this time he sends a short video with his shorts pushed down his thighs and his cock raging hard and pathetic against his stomach. Again, he’s big, that much is true, but the fact that such a dick is always ready to fuck? To the point he’s desperate? To the point he’s embarrassing about it?

YOURUSERNAME: how bad do you wanna bury that in me?

Oh, shit. Jake could fucking die right now. You seem so willing, which is truly what he needs at this point in his sexual sickness.  

JAKE_02: i’ll come over right now. 

JAKE_02: let me come over and show you

YOURUSERNAME: let’s wait a bit for that, gotta meet officially before I let you fuck me

And you do intend to make him wait, knowing for a fact that you’re not meeting this guy tonight. There��s too much danger in that. Given how desperate he actually is, you can argue that if you changed your mind upon meeting, he very well may not care. Which, that’s something you need to worry about with any person you meet on such an app, but still.

Public meeting first. 

Always.

JAKE_02: right, right, that makes sense. 

JAKE_02: so can i see your pussy then

You stifle a laugh as if the man can hear you, he’d probably like that though. But yeah, no. As much as you know he’d enjoy that, it’s best to let him experience it for the first time in real life if all of this goes well. So, you settle with tits. 

Meaning, he has to settle with them too. 

And the photo is all but enough for Jake. The ping of his phone was far too exciting with the flash of the image sinking into his eyes. Sure, he wanted to see your hole open for him, he wanted to see your pretty hands spreading your lips for the picture, he wanted to see what he might get to fuck into someday– but…

This is good enough for him, honestly. Seeing your tits alone is hot enough, but it’s the fact that you only barely let him see. The plush skin of your lower breasts are peeking from under the shirt you're wearing, one nipple barely out, the other completely hidden. 

He moans out at it, holding his cock tight and painfully as he glares into the screen of his phone. God, he can almost taste it. 

JAKE_02: thats so hot…but….

JAKE_02: pussy….

JAKE_02: please show me your pussy

Another chuckle at how desperate he really is. You lower your phone just a bit, not at all intending to show him all of it but you do lend a panty shot with your legs spread. He’ll live with it, he doesn’t have a choice. 

And he does live with it because he cums almost instantly upon seeing just your thighs open. He wouldn’t have been able to hit climax so quickly had you already had this photo posted for all to see. It’s the fact that you sent it to him in the dms. It’s the fact that you presumably just took it for him. It’s the fact that he can almost see the outline of your folds, and the lines of your pussy that deserves to fucked open. 

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you know it was enough for him. Already you’re preparing to roll back over and get some more sleep, but your phone dings again. 

JAKE_02: tht was hot lol….um

JAKE_02: can u come to the mall tomorrow? i work at [redacted store name], u can come see that im actually very normal if u want

You stop for a second through another yawn, thinking long and hard about it. You shrug to yourself because tomorrow is a saturday and there’s plenty of public spaces to meet him in. And despite how fun it could be to tease him for weeks on end before officially meeting him, you, yourself, have been in a dry-spell lately. 

And he fits your interests perfectly. In other words, yeah, you could fuck.

YOURUSERNAME: you sure you’re not gonna take me in the back and fuck me on the spot? 

JAKE_02: ….would u want me to? 

YOURUSERNAME: no, i wanna bring you home if i think you could make me feel good

JAKE_02: hahah damn

JAKE_02: so you’ll come see me?

YOURUSERNAME: yeah, i’ll come see you

JAKE_02: ok cool :)

And then it’s silent for a long while. In fact, you’re nearly asleep again when your phone pings one last time. All you need to see is the notification to know that meeting Jake is gonna be fun. 

JAKE_02 sent you a message: for the record…i definitely will fuck you good

Sounds promising. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You knew he was cute but holy shit, he’s like, cute cute.

Fucking handsome and charmingly cute. 

Perhaps even, hot. 

You stand from around a shelf to check him out. That same accent you’ve heard previously rings loud and clear in your head, and his hair is definitely a stylistic mess, the type of hair you can imagine grabbing and tugging to guide a tongue between your legs. His eyes are pretty and piercing yet equally as filled with some sort of wonder. His hands, his body.

 Oh wow. 

On any other day, you’d think he’s just some poser emo-guy working a shitty retail job so he can buy his first guitar and play it totally out of tune. But on this day, you’re aware that this is a man with a need that you very much wouldn’t mind satisfying. 

 Seeing him go about his work tasks behind the counter is another thing. Checking customers out both through the register and with his eyes when they walk away. You know he isn’t aware that you’ve actually shown up, and it feels nice to watch him in his element before he attempts to play himself up as a totally normal, cool dude. Especially now that you can see him secretly be a pervert on the clock. 

Customer after customer, he smiles at them when he hands them their items, he offers small talk and little chuckles that ring in your ears, and every single time one of the pretty ones walks away, his head turns to watch them leave for a few seconds too long.

Anyone can tell he needs it if they watch him for long enough. 

You’re not sure why this guy is getting to you the way he is, but there’s just something about the way that he carries himself in public that turns you on. You already know for a fact that he’s a horny motherfucker. You know that behind those charming smiles and laughs, he’s got a neglected cock needing to be used. 

No one else in this store is aware of it. You’re the only person here who knows he was spamming a stranger last night with dick pics and begging to see her pussy. 

It’s hot. 

And when you approach, Jake nearly doesn’t even know it’s you at first. 

“Hi, did you find everything you–” Jake stops mid sentence. “Oh, fuck. You’re here.”  He adds, trying to primp his hair into a spot that may look a little better than it did already.

You watch as he studies you for the first time, nervously darting his tongue out and against his bottom lip just for a split second before shifting his eyes behind you, and then turning to look around to see if anyone is within ear shot. 

No one is paying attention to either of you, and no one is going to hear what you’re about to say to him. Good.

“Do you wanna see my pussy?” 

It’s a joke, mostly. Kinda. 

You chuckle at his stunned reaction. His hands move to the counter as he clutches it and continuously looks around to make sure no one just heard those lewd ass words from a girl so goddamn hot. Like, oh god, it’s you. You really showed up to see him and already he’s not acting normal. 

No, no. You’re the one acting out of pocket, not him.

“I’m–” He tries to start, but his voice cracks in a very, very, embarrassing way. You hear him clear his throat before continuing. “I’m supposed to be showing you that I’m normal.” 

You tilt your head at him playfully, leaning against the counter and pushing your tits together with your arms. You wore this shirt here for a reason, and boy are you glad you did. You watch his eyes go straight to your chest and stay there. 

“Public Humiliation.” You echo one of his sexual interests to him from his app profile. “Dirty talk.”

Jake swallows around his words in stunned silence, feeling his cock wake up immediately. Fuck, this is the only place he finds peace of mind from…that. Yet here you are, with that soft and pretty voice reminding him of everything he wants but hasn’t been able to have. Standing there like you know he can’t bend you over right now and make you stop talking.

“Eight and a half inches hard.” You continue, leaning in even closer and moving your hand to the collar of your shirt. Tugging down just a little bit. “Five point six inch circumference.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut as he leans back with a sigh, pressing his hips against the counter for some sort of relief. To think the “boring” girl on the app wouldn’t be like this? God, he knew there had to be a catch considering you were on that app to find him in the first place. 

“Please–” He groans as his ears redden, lazily opening his eyes to look at your tits again. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

“I can imagine you’d fit it in me just right, wouldn’t you Jake?” You continue briefly, noting the bulge he blatantly presses against the counter. “Can you say ‘please’ again? It’s kinda hot.” 

“Please–” Jake blatantly groans now, his voice sounding hoarse and low. As much as he wants you to keep going, he’s at fucking work. He can’t be doing this. 

“Okay!” You gleefully agree as you switch up like you didn’t just fuck him up, lending him a bright and innocent smile as you lean back and away from him. “So you don’t want to see my pussy then?”

His relieved face falls right back into that of pained frustration as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Right now?” He asks curiously, nodding his head without realizing it. Sure, he’s at work but like….your pussy is also at his work place right now.

“Yeah! Can you show me to the fitting room, actually?” You ask, louder this time in case anyone has moved around within ear-shot by now. Can’t make him lose his job, or whatever.

Jake swallows thickly with a nod, his eyes still narrowed at you but his mind racing a mile a minute at the fact that you’re really here right now, and this is what you’re doing to him? Enjoying his pain? Enjoying his suffering? Making it worse? 

Five minutes ago he was perfectly fine. You’re using his need against him and god, he loves it. Yeah, maybe he will take you to the back and try to fuck you at this point. Even if you said that you wouldn’t let him…what the fuck is this then? 

Really, he expected you to show up with an awkward hello and irritating small talk. He wanted to show you that he’s not always thinking about sex. Except he is, and it seems you want him to. You want him to think about fucking you. 

You really just walked into this establishment and asked him if he wants to see your pussy.

Of course he wants to see it. You already fucking know that. He wants to fuck it too, like, right now. 

And as he walks you to the fitting room, he has to try his damndest to adjust his growing cock. He nods to each customer as he walks by them, hands repeatedly going back to his lap to hide what he’s packing.

“Here it is.” Jake says in an unfocused voice, nearly staring a hole through you. “Now show me.” 

You dip your head in a smile, heading for the room and opening the curtain. Cheap ass store, really, most places have actual doors, but whatever. 

It’s easy to step inside and leave the curtain skewed a bit, knowing that Jake is hovering around the room, knowing that it’s probably protocol that an employee assist this space when it’s in use to prevent stealing and to prevent others from walking in on naked customers. 

You like the way you see him take peeks, trying to be discreet. You like the way he keeps his hands in front of his lap, hiding that you’ve definitely made him a mess of him already. You love the way he whispers a curse to himself when you sit against the bench in this small room and spread your legs wide open. 

You bet he loves the skirt you’re wearing for him today too. Though this wasn’t exactly planned or anything, you didn’t expect to be this turned on upon seeing him act as desperate as he sounds. You wore this shirt so he can look, and the skirt too…but looking this much wasn’t in your mind originally. 

He’s hot though. The way he needs it is hot. 

“Hurry up.” He groans, trying to make it seem like he’s frustrated but you know it’s just because he’s anxiously horny. 

And, well, you’re not actually gonna show him your pussy, but at this point you feel bad because he seems really stiff right now, almost robotic in the way he likely feels uncomfortably aroused in his least favorite place.  

“Jake,” You whisper-chuckle. “If you wanna see it, you’re gonna have to come in here and take my panties off of me.”

You hear him sigh, and see his eyes flick back to you through the small open space in the curtain. 

“You’re insane. I can’t come in there, I’ll lose my job.” He argues with a hushed tone, eyes fixated on the very panties he wishes he could remove. 

Even against his protests though, he reaches an arm in as he looks away. As if on extreme watch of other customers and employees roaming around. Probably pretending to grab a garment that doesn’t work for you, probably just doing normal, good-employee things. 

And, well, it’s pathetic really, the way he hopes for more. The way you offer more knowing he can’t get exactly what he wants. You actually feel a bit bad for doing this, especially because it wasn’t entirely in the plan. 

You really were just coming to meet him. It’s not your fault that watching him work turned you on solely because you know what he needs. So, you stand and walk towards the curtain, grabbing his arm and holding it in place. 

“Well–” You start, pressing yourself against the backside of his fingers, feeling him move his hand slightly against your clit. “Touch it then.”

He goes entirely silent but you feel the way he fumbles his hand, immediately grabbing your panties and moving them to the side just to really feel. And you let him, finding it somehow cuter in the way he doesn’t even ask. He does it like he needs to, like it’s instinctual to touch it. He feels for a second or two, probably closer to about five seconds before you step back. Really, it’s enough for him to know you’re wet, enough for him to suffer, enough for him to want more. 

Jake’s brain is on fire at it. Touching it before getting to see it? Goddamn, you’re so fucking mean.

And it’s silent for a few more moments after that as Jake keeps his hand in place, seemingly searching for a pussy just out of reach when you slide the fabric down your legs and place them directly into his hand. 

“When do you get off work?” You ask slyly now, ripping the curtain open and moving his hand for him, forcing him to shove your panties in his pocket. 

“Uh–” He stutters, swallowing again around his words before clearing his throat of the moan he really needs to let out right now. “Seven– I get off at seven.”

You nod with a smile, leaning in real close before patting his pocket. 

“I’ll text you my address.” 

And you leave without sparing him another glance, knowing that by the time his shift is over, he’ll probably pounce the second you open your door for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake suffers through the rest of his shift aggressively trying not to suck on his fingers. Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad, but to go as low as sucking the remnants for several hours just to hold him over? Truly, he’s at his wits end. 

Mostly because he absolutely does suck his fingers any chance he gets. Tapping his lips with them as he sees a customer off, licking against them discreetly, trying to make it look normal for him to have his fingers in his mouth so consistently. 

It’s not doing anything to hold him over though. 

He keeps glancing at the clock, and then at the message that reads your address. Just one more hour and he can leave. Just one more hour and he can bury his cock so deep into you that you’d never think twice about letting him do it again, and again, and again.

Oh god, really, he feels like he’s going insane as he checks out customer after customer. Every word they say somehow reminds him that he’s about to finally get laid again. 

“Can you wrap this up for me?” One customer said to him, nodding to a set of candles. 

Jake wishes you’d wrap him up in that pussy. 

“Do you have this in a bigger size?” Another customer had said to him as they held up a plush sweater. 

Jake doesn’t think you’d ever need a dick bigger than his. He’ll fill you up just right. 

“69.99?!” One customer argues. “The sign said it was 30% off!” 

Jake would sixty nine you all night long if you asked. He bets you taste sweet, you probably get really wet too. 

And by the end of the night, rain pounding on the roof, his last customer unfortunately has to hear a low groan leave his throat at their comments. He’s very quick to cover it with a cough. 

“Sorry for coming in right before you close, the rain is bad tonight and I forgot my umbrella, thank god you guys sell them! I didn’t mean to drip all over the floor like this, I hope you don’t have to stay late cleaning up my mess!” 

“I didn’t mean to drip all over your floor like this” Replays in his head, over and over again. God, he’d make you drip. He hopes you drip all over the floor for him. He’d get on his knees and lick it right up, god.

He needs to leave. Right now.

“S’all good,” Jake shakes his head after the initial moan and cough cover, trying to remain casual. “It’s my job to clean it up, after all.” He smiles, his brain stuck on the feeling of how wet you were when he touched you. Shiiiit. “Have a good night, stay dry!” 

And finally, Jake can close out his register and lock the doors. That, he does. Performing his end-of-night tasks at lightning speed with a cock throbbing so bad that he worries he might have to get off in his car before making it to your apartment. He genuinely needs to get off, especially knowing these pretty panties are in his pocket ready to be soaked in his cum. 

He doesn’t though, no. He holds off, thrusting his hips up and against the inseam of his pants with every passing second as he drives. He’s practically writhing by the time he gets to your place. Honestly, he moans with each movement because he’s sensitive. It’s so, so fucking sensitive. Everything feels good, he could genuinely cum the second you open your door if he’s not careful. 

Careful isn’t something Jake can be at this moment though, not when he lands a single knock at your door and you’re immediately opening it, looking at him with that same fucking evil smile you gave to him while he was at work. 

He looks at you and instantly lets out a frustrated moan before stepping in without another word. You feel his hands grab you much harsher than you originally thought he would, but you let him as you laugh out in a nervous chuckle. 

“Hello to you too.” You pat him on the back as his arms wrap around your middle. You hear him kick back against your door, slamming it shut before his lips hit your neck. 

He isn’t talking but goddamn you can hear what he needs to say through the way he presses his lips against you. He’s rough with it, kissing all across your exposed skin before slipping his hand right between your legs from the back as if he doesn’t have to chase anymore. 

You were going to jerk your hips back to make him chase, but his grip is too tight and he’s nearly lifting you off the floor entirely to get a feel. You were going to force him to look at you and the outfit you changed into for him, but again, he’s not having it, it seems.  He moans when he moves his lips up and against yours, hot breath desperate and needy as he finally speaks.

“Did it turn you on to torture me like that?” He nearly growls against your lips. “Got me so fucking hard.” 

You’re genuinely surprised with how he’s acting and talking. Then again, he’s desperate, that much is obvious if that monster bulge rubbing against your leg is anything to go by. Perhaps he may be desperate, but you guess that doesn’t always mean someone will end up submissive as a side effect. 

“It did.” You smile against his lips, pushing yourself forward to try and plant your feet back on the ground, chasing the ability to gain control over him. “Did you like that?”

Jake nods before shaking his head, allowing you to push forward, loving the way your hands reach for him and run through his hair before tugging. He did like what you did, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was fucking torture to stand there at work like he wasn’t losing his mind. 

“I’d like it more if we skip all the bullshit,” He starts, hand still attempting to reach the spot between your legs and lips landing at the corner of your mouth. “Could go all night.”

You nod to him, gripping his shirt and pulling him back to your living room couch and spinning him around, only to shove him back. 

“Is that a promise?” You ask, looking at the lazy way he spreads his own legs and rests his head against your couch cushions, eyes staring straight at you and cock twitching in his pants. “You gonna fuck me all night?”

“Yeah–” He breathes as if he’s in disbelief, hand reaching between his legs just to grab himself and squeeze as his eyes trail your body. “You have no idea how bad I need this.”

“Show me then,” You nod your head to his length that’s hidden under his pants. “Let me watch you first.”

Jake groans, rolling his eyes back both out of frustration and arousal, but he does as you say. His palm feels better with you watching, at least. He doesn’t feel so numb to the pleasure with you promising your body to him, at least. He doesn’t mind proving his size to you by shoving his pants down to his thighs and presenting said neglected cock to you either. 

It’s heavy, dark in color due to the blood that’s likely rushing throughout every inch of it. He feels sensitive to even the air in your living room as he twitches and aches to hear you talk again, to see you in front of him watching how he pleasures himself, wishing his hand is yours. 

“You wanna watch?” He says in a low-rumbled voice, tracing his fingers along the head of his cock and seething out a breath through his now, bitten bottom lip. “Wanna know how tight I want you to feel?” He asks now, bold and in the heat of the moment. You watch him when he squeezes the base of his cock tightly, you can almost feel yourself choke at that alone. 

“How wet you need to be to take it?” He continues, dragging his hand back and licking his palm before spitting into it. 

The wetness against his hand is horrifyingly pornographic. So wet when he reaches back down to his length, allowing you to hear it squelch and slip with ease. His breath is hitched while he does it too, which nearly has you seeing him in tunnel vision.

“Yeah…” You tune into him entirely, swallowing around the lump in your throat and feeling yourself drip already. “I can’t imagine how good–” You cut yourself short to moan at the way his other hand holds his pants down while he jerks his hand up faster and faster. “Oh god, you’re–”

“Wanna see how fast I can cum just looking at you?” He continues, hand only moving faster and faster as his grip tightens more, shamelessly grunting proudly over how he could probably cum now if he wanted to. “I told you, I can go all night.”

You pause, because goddamn. You thought he would be embarrassing, pathetic, needy. You thought he would beg, plead, and cry. But…you feel like you’re the one who needs to do that. God, you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck yet be so powerful about it. As if he’s in your face whispering, “You’re gonna let me fuck you, right? You’re gonna love it too, right? You’re gonna let me use you to take care of this little problem of mine, right? It’s what you want, right?”

If he were to say those things to you right now, you’d nod without a doubt. But…he doesn’t. He simply looks at you now, heaving out broken moans that sound too sexy to be considered pathetic. His hips chase each movement of his hand and goddamn does he fuck his fist hard.

Your mind is spinning watching him, knowing that he’s probably going to fuck you twice as hard as he fucks himself. And it’s not surprising to you at least that you can feel your own clit swell and throb for touch too. You easily move your hand between your legs, standing right there in front of him, toying with yourself as if you don’t have the power to ask him to do it for you. 

“Ah, fuck–” Jake groans, thrusting his hips up into his hand one last time before strings of his cum make a mess on his shirt. And it seems to go on forever too, spurt after spurt of it pumping out of him alongside his pretty moans and open-mouthed expression. You can feel your body react to him more than it ever has for anyone else, especially in the way….

“God–” You moan yourself now, watching him spread his legs and slouch more against your couch with a relieved sigh from his messy orgasm. But…his cock doesn’t soften. No, it stays stiff and heavy against his stomach, twitching and dribbling more and more of his cum out in little beads. 

The proof of his issue is right here, he really can and probably will go all night. And you say nothing else to him after that. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to answer you if you did say something simply because you find yourself stepping up onto your own couch, resting your knees against the back of it, and gripping his hair. 

Jake lets out a half-moan-half-hum, as expected, when he feels your hand drag his face under your skirt. You didn’t have to do that, but goddamn does he fucking love it. He loves how he can feel your knees buckle and force you to balance on the couch, loves how your cunt is just as needy as he feels, fucking adores the way you drip all over his tongue when he pushes your panties to the side and starts licking you up. 

It’s the fact that he didn’t even have to ask you to put it in his face. The slight taste against his fingers all night at work is nothing compared to the way you drown him now. He needs to do this for you. Hell, he needs to do this for himself.

“Jesus,” You breathe, rolling your hips on his mouth. He’s truly eating you like his life depends on it. You can hear his muffled hums at the taste, you can feel his shoulder shake as he starts jerking off again, you can feel the way his tongue goes deeper and deeper, licking each clench of your walls, only to pull back and suck the wet from your panties in a deep breath. 

He coos at it too, as if he’s in love with the moment, as if he truly can’t believe he’s finally got a pussy to lick. And he swallows each mouth full of your slick before muttering curses and promises against your swollen little bud. 

“Please,” He moans, nipping and licking against you. “Been so long since I’ve eaten pussy, rub it on me- fuck-” he continues to babble, heat-of-the-moment-talk coming out as far more arousing than cringe if you listen hard through your ringing ears. “Come on,” He continues, now neglecting his own cock and gripping your ass with both hands, shoving you back and forth on his face in painfully slow and harsh grinds. “Come on, harder.”

As if you can function at all right now with how rough he is about trying to pleasure you? Fucking hell, the words ignite something in you as you pull back and away from him. For a split second, you see his blown out pupils and fucked up hair as he licks his lips and presents that shining lower-half of his face to you. 

You don’t look for long though, no. Because you’re too busy pushing him to the side and forcing him to lay back on the couch instead. You resume your position afterwards, straddling the couch on either side of his head with your knees and planting your pulsing cunt right on his eager tongue. 

“You’re too hot,” You moan, feeling his hands go straight back to your ass to force more of those harsh grinds against him. “If you could see yourself right now–” Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you feel his moaned out chuckle hit you right in the clit. It’s like he knows he makes you feel good, but does he really? 

Does he truly understand how fucking good at this he is?

 “God, if you could feel how good your tongue is–” You continue, now losing yourself in the heat of the moment, feeling his fingers nearly bruise your ass with the death-grip he has on you. 

He nods his head in what little space he has as he spirals into heaven behind his eyes. The smell of you suffocates him, the taste of you drowns him, the weight of you is nothing short of sexy as hell. This is all he could ever want. A pretty girl using and abusing his face, much like he wants to do to you. But oh, there’s so, so much he wants to do after so long of having no one but himself. 

Eat you out, finger fuck you, slide his cock down that pretty little moaning throat of yours, grip that hair and kiss those tits. God, he wants to do everything right now but he can’t bear to push this perfect clit off of his lips. He cannot fathom losing the taste of you and the way you clench around the tip of his tongue. 

Oh fuck.

“Ahh- '' Jake moans open-mouthed against your clit as his brain hits a wall, his cock standing stiff from behind you as he spills out against himself again. Untouched completely, he cums without any effort where as previously it took him hours just to get off because he’d grown so fucking bored of everything. 

You’ve ignited him. His drive is higher than it’s ever been after being neglected for so long. God, he wants to fuck you so full that you can’t bear to leave him. 

“Fuck–” He continues, trying to lend licks between his jerking body to keep your arousal peaked. “See how bad I need it?” 

He finally manages to pull back, feeling you lift from his face just for a moment after noting the way his entire body is shaking. He’s not having it though, as he cranes his neck in chase of your dripping hole once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He adds now, enveloping his lips around your clit again and using both hands to force you right back down on his face. 

There, you feel the way he almost passionately makes out with your pussy. As if he’s thanking you for a second orgasm within the past ten minutes. As if he truly can’t stop wanting to fuck something, someone, anything at all.

Goddamn, what a fucking deal. All hail the hook-up app that brought this insatiable sex beast to your apartment.

“Jake–” You start, grinding down for him and feeling his hands now move to rub up and down your back. “Keep your tongue in me.” You choke out, gripping his hair to hold his face in place as you sit his tongue inside of you, short and jerky thrusts forward to bump your clit against his nose. 

He’s gotten off twice now, it’s your turn. 

And you watch as he drops his arms from you and grips your outer legs through it, letting you use his face until he can’t breathe. Both of you are seeing stars through it, your orgasm bubbling up so quickly that you can barely warn him when your hips halt in a stiffened clench and he’s finishing the job for you. 

Your legs squeeze around his head, your fingers pull his hair, and still he manages to find the space to tilt his chin up just to tongue-fuck you deeper, just to rub his nose harshly against your clit, up until he feels your quivering pussy spill all over his chin, down his throat, stealing any breath or moan he could possibly give right now. 

You’re out of breath by the time you finally slide off of his face, your hands immediately shooting to both of his cheeks as your sensitive clit drags down his stomach for the easy position change. You wince when you lick against his lips at the sensitivity, being sure to seat yourself right against his cock. 

“Hah–” Jake lends a breathy laugh against the way you lick his lips, his hands going right back to your ass and landing a sharp slap to it. “Couldn’t even get our clothes off first.”

You take a second to pull back and look at him, noting the redness against his cheeks and nose, likely from your panties consistently getting in his way and then you chuckle back at him. You’re thankful for the short break the two of you seem to be taking at the moment. Still, you lift up from him just to remove your shirt, exposing your tits in an instant solely because you didn’t wear a bra for this exact purpose. 

He’s still hard, despite two orgasms. You feel him rubbing it against you every few seconds, right up against your saliva and cum-soaked panties which, mind you, are insanely uncomfortable right now. It feels as if they’re slicing through your thigh with the force of how Jake managed to keep them shoved out of his way. 

“Just lay back,” You smile at him, allowing him a longer rest for now as you take it upon yourself to remove the barriers. “Let me take care of you now.”

Jake has hearts in his eyes as he watches you. Normally, a girl would already be falling asleep after all that, leaving him with not enough orgasms and no actual fucking. It’s not his fault he could do foreplay for upwards of three to four hours before going for the finale. Which, arguably, can and will last several hours longer. 

Still, you appear to not be finished either, with your breathless smile and gentle hands. He bites his bottom lip through a smirk as he watches you, tits on full display to keep him satiated for now as you move around on the couch to get his pants off of him. He helps a bit with a little kick, his cock still so sensitive and pathetically weeping for more. He feels lucky to have found you, almost baffled that he may have met his match. 

You lend several glances at his cock, not quite realizing the way he’s blinking at you right now. To be fair, it’s only natural to have your attention on that thing right now. You swallow around your nervousness regarding the size but equally want him to fuck you senseless with it. You already feel entirely fucked out, but…that. Oh, that could change your life, probably. You can imagine he won’t be as gentle as you expected before all of this too. Would probably shove it in all in one go and lose his mind at the feeling. 

He’s probably going to split you open and make it feel good for you too. Somehow. 

Anyway, enough of that. You’ve still got to get his shirt off, your uncomfortable skirt and panties too. 

You make quick work of it, as you stand to your feet and expose yourself entirely to him. Jake just watches, humming and moaning at each new expanse of skin you show to him. He keeps his hands to himself though, likely so used to feeling of them that they’d bring no pleasure at this moment if he were to jerk off to you doing this. And you just…look right back at him.

“Come on,” You smile at him again, lending your hand out for him to grab. “Bedroom will be more comfortable.”

Right. Bedrooms exist.

Jake follows, cock heavy and sensitive against his thigh with each step as he tries to get up close behind you. His eyes stay on your ass as you walk in front of him, and it’s not hard for him to keep his hands on it. In fact, he’s touching you as often as he can, trying to remind himself that he’s with someone right now who actually wants him. 

You seem to be willing to let him do what he needs tonight, and hopefully it won’t be the only time. 

You feel him on you, clinging so closely, hands constantly groping, lips always trying to reach the back of your neck and shoulders, to the point it’s actually difficult to get to your bedroom because you want nothing more than to turn around and shove him against the wall, all to try and take him into your mouth just to see if you can.

He doesn’t really let you think about that for too long though, because the second you get to your bedroom, he’s grabbing you from behind and lifting you in his strong arms. You writhe in his grasp with playful giggles, feeling the strong hold he has on you, keeping you in place against him as he stumbles forward with a deep inhale into your neck.

He’s quick to make his way to your bed, dropping you onto it, flipping you over onto your back, and immediately slotting himself between your legs. He hovers over you for a minute, looking directly into your eyes as his hair falls forward. 

Somehow, you’re more focused on his face than you are of his cock that he’s sliding up and down your core right now. You reach up to his hair, brushing it out of his face and feeling the sticky sweat at his scalp. 

“Could eat you out again.” Jake mentions, hips thrusting against you but eyes calm and level with yours. “Could lock me up in here and just use me all day if you want.” He continues, partially being serious about it, but treating it as if it’s some kinky joke instead. 

Because let’s be honest. If there’s any job Jake could do better than anyone else, it’s be a woman’s fuck toy. Always ready to go, always stiff and horny, always willing to please. 

“Could slide in right now and let you feel how hard I am.” His voice gets breathier as he talks, and you can tell he’s just imagining everything he wants to do. He probably worries he’ll have to go home at some point tonight only to resume his search for potential fucks to keep his need satiated. 

He probably thinks he’s going to exhaust you. 

“Could let you do all of that and more.” You respond, lifting your hips just slightly to press his cock between your bodies, throwing your legs around his waist simultaneously with the way you wrap your arms around his neck. “You want me to lock you up in here?” 

Jake nods with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if he can imagine it. 

“Do you work tomorrow?” 

He shakes his head with another sigh, focusing on the way you keep humping up against his length, sliding yourself in whatever way you can against him. 

“Maybe I’ll just have to do that then.”

Oh, damn. 

The heart eyes are back. The very thought of being in this room all night and all day tomorrow drives his cock to pulse and twitch. Foreplay can come whenever, fucking can come whenever, he can cum whenever. There’s no need for a to-do list. No need for a specific structure of rules on how this needs to happen. Foreplay, sex, sleep. Not with Jake. 

Sex. foreplay. sex. foreplay. for hours. He’ll keep you up all night if he can, fucking and sucking every part of you, into the morning hours straight into tomorrow night. 

Free use with you from now until you’re tired of him. You can do anything you want to him but for now…

“Yeah?” Jake breathes out in excitement, arching his back slightly to let his cock land against your hole, and then he pushes forward slowly. The bulbous head spreads your lips and stretches out your slick pussy with ease as he continues to speak. “Feel that?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, fingernails already digging into his shoulders at the anticipation as your legs loosen around him. He continues to push forward, inch by inch, painfully slow as if he wants you to feel the burn and stretch even while being as wet as you are. 

“Ah–” He confirms for himself as he watches your face, wincing, mouth falling open. “Yeah, you feel it.”

God, yeah. You do. You feel the weight of his size inside of you, stretching you open so good he probably wouldn’t even have to move for it to hurt. But he does move, he does continue to slide in, savoring every second of your walls quivering and suffocating his cock. 

“Goddamn,” He groans, lifting up on both arms and bracing himself as he looks down, only to find he’s only slid half of his dick into you, and already you’re about as breathless as he is. “Didn’t realize how tight you’d actually be–” 

He chokes when he says it, sliding out little by little before fucking back in, pushing just a bit more into you.

“S’okay.” You try to reassure him, but it’s more for you than it is for him. You really didn’t think a cock could feel so big that it actually hurts, yet, here you are. “I’m adjusting.”

Jake moans at your broken voice, no longer holding himself back to look at your pussy grip him when he pulls out slightly. He looks at your face instead, witnessing how you take all of it in one solid movement from him. All of it, until he can feel his pelvis rest against your clit and your entire body stiffens in a tight hug around his body. 

“Mhm,” He leans back down now, humming against your cheek as he tries to control the urge to fuck. “Taking all of it, aren’t you?”

With those words, he slides out slightly before pushing back in again, trying to force your pussy to relax so that he can stop holding his breath. One hand finds its way to your leg to hold onto, the other holding himself up beside your head, and he just…watches. 

Little by little, he thrusts. Plunging into you in short-tight snaps of his hips just to watch your tits jiggle with the movements, up until he really, really can’t hold back anymore. 

You feel his cock leave you almost entirely, only to slam right back in and cause your vision to go white with a pang of pleasure. Your loud yelp pairs well with his relieved sigh of a grunt, and it appears that this is what breaks him entirely. 

That single, full thrust, lets him fall forward and nuzzle his nose against your neck and his body just goes. Instinctually chasing the deepest parts inside of you, hitting your cervix with each thrust only to drag back and make your toes go numb at the way your g-spot feels entirely too sensitive with this alone.

And god, Jake loves the way you cling through it. The way you moan each time he bottoms out, the way your nails cut into his back and the way your legs continuously fail to stay wrapped around him. He…

Oh no.

“I can go all night–” He breathes out through his relentless thrusts, almost as if he’s pleading with you. “I swear, I’m not done–” He continues to cut off his own words with choked moans as he pulls back and leans up, frantically forgetting to apologize over the fact that he’s already about to cum again.

And you feel him try to slide out, that face he made twice before already alerting you that he really must have so much to pump out of himself at this point. You don’t mind if he’s about to hit a third orgasm, in fact, you’re glad.

Your legs hold him in place as he fights to pull out, his eyes snapping to you in realization after the second time he tries. 

“No fucking way, you– you want it?” His eyebrows fall into that of a relieved release as he, too, falls right back down against your chest and lets his hips fuck freely. 

He’s not controlling it at this point. You feel him stretch you open more through his orgasm, rolling his hips but not pulling out even in the slightest now. Moving back and forth, as if trying to stuff you impossibly full while he releases those thick ropes of cum. It…feels so good even with the way the base of his cock continues to swirl and loosen you up in a painful stretch that almost feels like he’s ripping you open. Still, the pain is gone as he shakes on top of you, in fact, you feel your clit throb at the feeling of how big he is, of how hard he manages to stay. 

He didn’t even fuck you that roughly before this, but it feels like you’re already ruined. Ruined enough to want more. Enough to need more. 

“Bet that feels good,” You chuckle against his hair, feeling each pulse of him and loving the way he pants against your ear. “Not having to pull out, knowing you can fuck me for as long as you want.”

That only pushes his orgasm to hit harder. He thought he was nearing the end of it, but instead, his body goes into overdrive as more pulses of cum shoot out of him at your words. There’s so…so much of it he can give you. And if this is what you want, he’s the perfect man to do it for you. 

“Don’t say that, oh god–” Jake mumbles through the end of his orgasm, keeping himself tucked nice and deep into you as he releases his body weight and makes you feel slightly suffocated under him. “Please.”

Well, he minds his manners well enough, you shrug under him, clenching around his length unintentionally and reminding him that you genuinely can go all night, just like him.

Reminding him that maybe you really will just lock him up in this room all tonight, all tomorrow. He seems into the idea anyway, right? Both of you just free-use sex dolls for the time being…Hell yeah.

And as Jake catches his breath, he finally lifts up, pulling you with him, and sits you directly on his lap now.

“Keep going then, don’t let it get soft.” He nearly whimpers, solely due to the sensitivity his cock is now offering and the fact that after that third orgasm, he truly is gaining the ability to go flaccid between orgasms. 

And you follow his direction, though not entirely how he wanted you to. Instead of rolling your hips, you slip him right out of you and sink your face down between his legs, loving the way his cum spills out of you all the while. You don’t even say anything, not that you’d need to. He watches you, a smirk forming on his lips as he raises an arm and throws it over his eyes. 

“Shit, You’re so my type.” He groans out of the sexual frustration that still bubbles within him. You look so good down there with his cock just inches from your mouth. God, no woman has been able to go down on him for too long despite really fucking wishing they would. 

His hips always lose control, they don’t like face fucking, he’s too big to fit, they’re gagging too much, their jaw is hurting. What the fuck ever. Look at you, blinking up at him like you want nothing more in the world than to take it all down your throat. Ah, fuck, if you did that…

His hips buck up on instinct, forcing you to hold him down with your arms as you lick your lips. 

“You really live up to your promise, you know that?” You smile with warmed cheeks as you speak, blowing air gently against the head of his cock. It’s softened up a little, but it’s no longer going flaccid. You’re sure that the second you work it into your mouth, he’s going to be blocking your airways. 

Good. 

“You say that like I’m not overwhelming you with all of this,”  He chuckles as he moves his arm from his face and down to yours. “Most girls would have already sent me home.”

You circle your lips around the bulbous head, tasting the remnants of both you and him as you gently suckle before popping off and licking your lips. 

“Well, Jake–” You look back down and lend his cock a little kiss. “I’m not most girls. Besides, most guys get their nut and leave me hanging. You’ve gotten, what? Three orgasms by now? And you’re still in my bed? Wanting me to lock you up tomorrow too? What a fucking win.”

Jake rolls his eyes because you don’t even know the fucking half of it. If he were a normal guy, he probably would have done the same thing. Maybe not to you, but to others? Yeah. The thing is, he’s not like most guys. And you’re right in saying you’re not like most girls either, considering…your sex drive appears to be just as insatiable as his.

“Fuck, let me eat you out again–” Jake groans now, needing to pleasure you again, aroused by the fact that he’s basically met a female version of himself. Even if he’s just exaggerating and making himself believe such a woman could exist close enough to him. “Let me– Ahh…”

You cut off his words, dragging a loud and sensual moan from him as you sink down. Mostly to shut him up, mostly so you can return the favor for him from earlier before letting him have another lick of you. After all, you truly do appreciate him for all of this. 

“Mmf–” You mumble unintentionally, feeling each inch of his length that you swallow up pressing your tongue further and further down in your mouth. Up until you’re entirely open mouthed on him, gagging yourself when he hits your throat only to angle yourself up on your knees to point it straight down your throat instead.

It hurts, but you close your eyes in concentration, breathing through each gag, ignoring the dribble of saliva that runs from the corners of your mouth and– you swallow.

Mostly because you can’t suck. Again and again, you swallow around him just to stimulate his length, the girth stretching your lips out to the point you feel your jaw could break, but it doesn’t and it won’t. 

Within an instant of taking his whole length down your throat, you feel his hands in your hair. Your ears are ringing, otherwise you would also be listening to him choke on his words at how you’re doing this to him. All of it. You’re taking him in full, not leaving an inch out, seemingly proving that your mouth can be fucked just as good as your cunt.

He’s in heaven, head spinning as you stimulate him through each gag and sputtered out chokes of a moan. He can’t help it when he grabs your hair, he really doesn’t mean it when he pushes your head down while pressing his hips up. Essentially choking you and suffocating you in full with a paused hold. 

You brace yourself on his hips when he does this, squeezing your eyes shut and continuously gagging from the way he abuses your mouth with just that small movement, and then– he pulls back.

“Ahh,” He groans, snapping his hips back and holding you by the hair to keep you from chasing. “You like that?” He continues, letting you breathe but not answer at all before he’s pushing your head right back down, holding you there again and fucking his hips up repeatedly into your throat this time. 

The sounds are pornographic at best, concerning at worst. You, searching for air somewhere between his thrusts, the sounds of wet sputters, drooling, whimpered groans from him, and desperate gasps and gags from you. Truly, Jake is in heaven right now. With you, specifically, you’ve brought him to heaven.

For you, it feels like he does this forever. You’re losing the ability to comprehend what breathing ever was in the first place, thankfully though, Jake can see the tears pouring from your eyes and feel the way you fall slightly limp, letting him do as he pleases before he realizes– he may actually be overwhelming you now.

He snaps his hips back quickly, pulling you up and off of the last remaining inches of his weeping cock before taking a good, long look at your gasped breath and abused lips. Tongue licking out and eyes stained. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I–”

Instantly you press yourself down on him once again, resuming your original position of sliding him in until you can’t stand the feeling in your throat, gagging and swallowing around him time and time again. You feel proud of it, proud of the pain, proud of the suffocation. 

Fucking proud to not be finished with him compared to every other person, apparently. 

“Jesus–” He groans now, his entire body slouching against your bed as he slams his head back and starts petting your cheeks. “It’s like you were born for this. For me.”

You hum around the gags, growing accustomed to swallowing him up and feeling your jaw strain. And just a few moments later, you pull up with a deep breath, a smile, and you start rubbing your jaw. 

“Maybe I was,” You try to talk dirty, wanting to drive him insane. “You taste so good.” You add, dipping down again to lick a long stripe up the underside of his balls up to his tip. “Any girl should be proud to say you’d fuck her mouth like that.”

A twitch, he rolls his eyes back and clenches his jaw. 

“How are you so…” He breathes out, reaching his hands blindly for you, only to feel you shift on the bed and essentially sit your tits into both of his hands. “perfect?”

You shrug when he opens his eyes, you’re now hovering over him, both hands covering his on your tits as you force him to squeeze and grope. 

“Maybe it’s best to not ask questions.” You tilt your head playfully. “Besides, if I’m lucky maybe you’ll stop trying to find other girls to fuck. They can’t take care of you like I will, anyway.”

Oh, you damn fucking right they won’t. 

“You can have it any time you want.” Jake smiles, relishing in your tits warming under his palms, watching the way you hover over him tall and proud on your knees. “Could play with you every day and never get bored.” 

You feel him move his hand from under yours, going straight between your legs and sliding not two, but three fingers into you with ease.

“Still so wet too,” He hums, eyes narrowing at you with that same pretty grin. “You always this horny?”

You shake your head. 

“Not usually, you just turn me on.” 

Jake feels proud of that. He doesn’t feel like the odd ball with a dick that can’t be satiated no matter how many pussies he plows through in a night. Which, again, for the past year has been a total of zero pussy. You getting turned on by that makes him feel…capable. Makes him feel like maybe he can be put to use by a pretty girl. 

Makes him feel like his need is wanted and well taken care of. 

“So, I can keep calling you?” He asks now, fucking his fingers up, loving the warmth and slide, anticipating for when he gets to bury his cock in you again. 

“Mhm.” You hum, closing your eyes to enjoy the pleasure of how deep even his fingers reach. Kind of ready for him to stop talking and just focus on what he’s doing to you.

“Even if it’s every single day?” He continues to ask, now using his thumb against your clit. “Even if I need you in the middle of the night?”

Anything he wants if he can keep hitting your g-spot like this. 

“Yes, Jake,” You sigh out of aroused frustration, now wiggling your hips to chase that stimulation inside of you. “I’ll give you the fucking key to my apartment if you want. Just let you walk right in and start fucking me.”

His fingers move faster at the image, the implication of not just free-use, but true free use. Real free-use. 

“Yeah? Wake you up with my cock sliding into you?” He urges you to keep talking, now removing his other hand from your chest and circling it around his cock. “Just walk right in and get my mouth on you while all your friends are here?”

You lend a surprised chuckle, but pay no mind to his words past the arousal it brings to you. You’d tell him about how you have a total of like two friends, and half of the time they’re too busy to show up anyway. Still, the image is hot at the moment. All of it is hot. 

“You’d let me?” He continues pressing every button both physically and mentally, unaware of how easy it is for him to talk as if it’s a normal conversation solely because it’s kind of his general state of living at this point. You, on the other hand, are not used to having a full conversation while your g-spot gets abused. “Even if you’re not home? Let you come home and find me fucking myself for you?”

Oh.

“Fuck–” You groan out at the image, feeling his fingers reach so perfectly, thinking of how it would feel to walk into your apartment just to see this pretty man chasing that tight ring of fingers his fist creates. Probably so turned on and frustrated that you’re not home…so frustrated that all he could do is drop to the floor and start fucking. “God, yeah.”

So that’s what you’re into. You love that he’s that pathetic to fuck. And lucky for you, he’s more than willing to continue to be that fucking pathetic. 

“Does that feel good?” He hums now, watching how you fuck yourself against his fingers, lifting slightly to lick against your nipple. “Can I use my cock again?” He babbles almost, brain on constant loop of you actually giving him free reign of your apartment someday so he can come and–”Please, do this on my cock.”

This is the second time he’s asked you to ride it, and you think that may be one time too many. You almost feel guilty for taking him down your throat first, but then again, you don’t. Your body vibrates knowing you’re about to split yourself open on him again, only this time having full control. 

“You want me to sit on it, Jake?” You smile, thrusting your hips down and sinking his fingers into you so deep that you physically can see his brain malfunction. 

The frantic nod he gives is somehow less powerful than how he lifts his hips, forcing you higher on your knees as his fingers slip out of you and immediately land in his mouth. 

Man, this guy must love the taste of pussy. The image of him doing that alone is insanely arousing to you as you lend him a short nod and slide back, your pussy sucking in the head of his cock instantly as if the two of you move together so well, that it was only natural to not need a guiding hand for it. 

He sinks his head deep into the mattress with the way you try to sink down on him. He holds his breath with those same fingers in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut at how tight you still are, how wet you still are. 

And he’s shocked, almost, at the way you just keep sliding down. Not letting yourself re-adjust to his size, holding your own breath and bracing yourself on his abdomen just to keep balance and you wince through the stretch. 

“That’s it.” Jake soothes your hips as you sit, clenching around each one of his twitches inside of you. “Doing so good.” He breathes out this time, trying to hold back his moan just for a moment as he awaits your moan first.

And it comes quickly when you lean back rather than against him, arms by his knees as you practically present his cock to him buried entirely into you with this position. He lifts his head and stares at it before reaching his thumb to your clit, immediately pressing hard circles against it. 

“Ride it,” He pleads now. “God, please ride it.” He loses his mind at the image, really, as you do start moving. 

Pained whimpers falling from your lips as you circle your hips, fucking just an inch of him in and out of yourself, forcing the deepest part of your pussy to take the abuse more than anything else. And you know he loves it with the way his thumb stops rubbing your clit, with the way he can’t decide on if he should look or throw his head back and fall into the sensation. 

It’s really cute to witness, and you’d lean forward to kiss him if you had the strength to do it, but you don’t. In fact, all the strength you have is currently bubbling up inside of you with a sharp, almost burning sensation. 

You know exactly what this is. You’ve practiced it time and time again alone in this bed. 

“Oh, oh shit, Jake–” You groan as you frantically start moving your hips through the full and splitting feeling of him inside of you. Your voice sounds so panicked, it almost scares him. And honestly? Had he not have finger fucked you against your g-spot previously perhaps you could last longer on him, but no. 

“What– What’s wrong?!” Jake’s voice is broken when he quickly leans up, hugging around you as you continue to ride against him, faster now, chasing, chasing, chasing. 

Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“No, no!” You moan out, shoving him back against the bed and now lifting entirely from his length before slapping your own clit, fast, rough circled motions before each slap. “Oh, shit!” You nearly yell, witnessing it squirt from your body straight against his abdomen and chest. 

Jake just watches, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

“Oh–” He stares. “Oh yeah?” 

And you’re not even done when he seemingly takes full control. Allowing all that squirt to fall out of you, ignoring your shaking legs, tipping you straight back and plunging his cock right back into that release of pressure inside of you.

“You just weren’t gonna tell me you could do that?” He grunts against your ear, fucking into you so hard and so fast that your orgasm just keeps coming. It feels too good to speak, too good to breathe. 

Even as it subsides and you’re trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you. He just keeps going, grunting incoherently against your ear, snapping his hips harder than you think he’s probably ever done before. 

Honestly, with each yelp you let out, your sensitivity goes from being unbearably painful to–

“Do it again–” He urges you. “Give me another one.” Babbling, cooing, fucking moaning all over your neck until his lips hit yours. 

Somehow, that gives him exactly what he wants as he feels your legs tense up and fall open around him. Your pelvis slamming into his so hard that it’s, quite literally, splashing out of you in loud and painful sounds. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He nods and whispers against your tongue, sucking it into his mouth before licking into yours, nearly rabid with the way he’s both kissing and fucking you, he can’t help it. He forgot words the second he felt the gush rush past his length, trying to force it out of you only for him to go harder. Like hell he’s not going to feel you literally squirt on his cock. “So fucking messy.”

At one point, you think you might have actually died. You’re not sure but you swear you saw him fucking you in third person for two solid seconds before being slammed right back into your body. The pleasure genuinely is so overwhelming that…well, suddenly you understand why girls probably think he’s too much.

But goddamn he’s…so good. Like, you remember him mentioning his body count through his one-sided sext session with you and you can argue his inexperience probably made this that much better. He’s a fucking natural. 

And as he continues fucking into you, all you can do is lend him a distant smile. You’re definitely not experiencing real life at this moment, and you know he sees it with the way he lifts and keeps his eyes on your zoned out expression. 

“Look at you.” He echoes against your walls. “So, so pretty.” 

And he just keeps doing that, whispering praises, working you through his presumed last orgasm of the night because he genuinely can’t not fill you up with his cum one last time before letting you rest. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The rest didn’t last long, but to be fair you didn’t need it to. All night, and all day. That promise was kept and Jake remained insatiable throughout all the time he spent with you.

To the point you very nearly felt strange about him leaving. Like you’d grown so accustomed to having someone literally attached to you at the dick that you knew the loneliness and silence would hit you a little too hard once he leaves. 

And, well, he does leave in a sense, but not completely. 

Though you never truly meant that offer in the midst of sex-talk, Jake seemed to have clinged to the idea of it. Lock him up, but still give him the key. 

Never in your life would have imagined giving a person the key to your apartment, and yet…there he goes. Backing out of a guest parking spot in front of your building with your spare fucking apartment key in his pocket right next to those fucking panties. 

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

average United States contains 1000s of pet tigers in backyards" factoid actualy [sic] just statistical error. average person has 0 tigers on property. Activist Georg, who lives the U.S. Capitol & makes up over 10,000 each day, has purposefully been spreading disinformation adn [sic] should not have been counted

I have a big mad today, folks. It's a really frustrating one, because years worth of work has been validated... but the reason for that fucking sucks.

For almost a decade, I've been trying to fact-check the claim that there "are 10,000 to 20,000 pet tigers/big cats in backyards in the United States." I talked to zoo, sanctuary, and private cat people; I looked at legislation, regulation, attack/death/escape incident rates; I read everything I could get my hands on. None of it made sense. None of it lined up. I couldn't find data supporting anything like the population of pet cats being alleged to exist. Some of you might remember the series I published on those findings from 2018 or so under the hashtag #CrouchingTigerHiddenData. I've continued to work on it in the six years since, including publishing a peer reviewed study that counted all the non-pet big cats in the US (because even though they're regulated, apparently nobody bothered to keep track of those either).

I spent years of my life obsessing over that statistic because it was being used to push for new federal legislation that, while well intentioned, contained language that would, and has, created real problems for ethical facilities that have big cats. I wrote a comprehensive - 35 page! - analysis of the issues with the then-current version of the Big Cat Public Safety Act in 2020. When the bill was first introduced to Congress in 2013, a lot of groups promoted it by fear mongering: there's so many pet tigers! they could be hidden around every corner! they could escape and attack you! they could come out of nowhere and eat your children!! Tiger King exposed the masses to the idea of "thousands of abused backyard big cats": as a result the messaging around the bill shifted to being welfare-focused, and the law passed in 2022.

The Big Cat Public Safety Act created a registry, and anyone who owned a private cat and wanted to keep it had to join. If they did, they could keep the animal until it passed, as long as they followed certain strictures (no getting more, no public contact, etc). Don’t register and get caught? Cat is seized and major punishment for you. Registering is therefore highly incentivized. That registry closed in June of 2023, and you can now get that registration data via a Freedom of Information Act request.

Guess how many pet big cats were registered in the whole country?

97.

Not tens of thousands. Not thousands. Not even triple digits. 97.

And that isn't even the right number! Ten USDA licensed facilities registered erroneously. That accounts for 55 of 97 animals. Which leaves us with 42 pet big cats, of all species, in the entire country.

Now, I know that not everyone may have registered. There's probably someone living deep in the woods somewhere with their illegal pet cougar, and there's been at least one random person in Texas arrested for trying to sell a cub since the law passed. But - and here's the big thing - even if there are ten times as many hidden cats than people who registered them - that's nowhere near ten thousand animals. Obviously, I had some questions.

Guess what? Turns out, this is because it was never real. That huge number never had data behind it, wasn't likely to be accurate, and the advocacy groups using that statistic to fearmonger and drive their agenda knew it... and didn't see a problem with that.

Allow me to introduce you to an article published last week.

This article is good. (Full disclose, I'm quoted in it). It's comprehensive and fairly written, and they did their due diligence reporting and fact-checking the piece. They talked to a lot of people on all sides of the story.

But thing that really gets me?

Multiple representatives from major advocacy organizations who worked on the Big Cat Publix Safety Act told the reporter that they knew the statistics they were quoting weren't real. And that they don't care. The end justifies the means, the good guys won over the bad guys, that's just how lobbying works after all. They're so blase about it, it makes my stomach hurt. Let me pull some excerpts from the quotes.

"Whatever the true number, nearly everyone in the debate acknowledges a disparity between the actual census and the figures cited by lawmakers. “The 20,000 number is not real,” said Bill Nimmo, founder of Tigers in America. (...) For his part, Nimmo at Tigers in America sees the exaggerated figure as part of the political process. Prior to the passage of the bill, he said, businesses that exhibited and bred big cats juiced the numbers, too. (...) “I’m not justifying the hyperbolic 20,000,” Nimmo said. “In the world of comparing hyperbole, the good guys won this one.”

"Michelle Sinnott, director and counsel for captive animal law enforcement at the PETA Foundation, emphasized that the law accomplished what it was set out to do. (...) Specific numbers are not what really matter, she said: “Whether there’s one big cat in a private home or whether there’s 10,000 big cats in a private home, the underlying problem of industry is still there.”"

I have no problem with a law ending the private ownership of big cats, and with ending cub petting practices. What I do have a problem with is that these organizations purposefully spread disinformation for years in order to push for it. By their own admission, they repeatedly and intentionally promoted false statistics within Congress. For a decade.

No wonder it never made sense. No wonder no matter where I looked, I couldn't figure out how any of these groups got those numbers, why there was never any data to back any of the claims up, why everything I learned seemed to actively contradict it. It was never real. These people decided the truth didn't matter. They knew they had no proof, couldn't verify their shocking numbers... and they decided that was fine, if it achieved the end they wanted.

So members of the public - probably like you, reading this - and legislators who care about big cats and want to see legislation exist to protect them? They got played, got fed false information through a TV show designed to tug at heartstrings, and it got a law through Congress that's causing real problems for ethical captive big cat management. The 20,000 pet cat number was too sexy - too much of a crisis - for anyone to want to look past it and check that the language of the law wouldn't mess things up up for good zoos and sanctuaries. Whoops! At least the "bad guys" lost, right? (The problems are covered somewhat in the article linked, and I'll go into more details in a future post. You can also read my analysis from 2020, linked up top.)

Now, I know. Something something something facts don't matter this much in our post-truth era, stop caring so much, that's just how politics work, etc. I’m sorry, but no. Absolutely not.

Laws that will impact the welfare of living animals must be crafted carefully, thoughtfully, and precisely in order to ensure they achieve their goals without accidental negative impacts. We have a duty of care to ensure that. And in this case, the law also impacts reservoir populations for critically endangered species! We can't get those back if we mess them up. So maybe, just maybe, if legislators hadn't been so focused on all those alleged pet cats, the bill could have been written narrowly and precisely.

But the minutiae of regulatory impacts aren't sexy, and tiger abuse and TV shows about terrible people are. We all got misled, and now we're here, and the animals in good facilities are already paying for it.

I don't have a conclusion. I'm just mad. The public deserves to know the truth about animal legislation they're voting for, and I hope we all call on our legislators in the future to be far more critical of the data they get fed.

[screampied]

❝ IF I WAS A RICH GIRL . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. not only do you get your panties back but you get a handsome, suave sugar daddy as a gift. gojo takes you out on a date but the lavish, exquisite food isn’t what he’s exactly hungry for. hint: it’s between your legs. oh, and you.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public themes, toy usage, gojo is a nasty menace, cunnilıngus, implied multiple ōrgasms, praise kink, mentions of brēeding, impact play, size kink, degradation, edging, manhandling.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

“s- ssssatoru,” you hiss. clenching onto your fork, you squeeze your thighs together underneath a velvet red table. it was as if every area of your nerves could barely hold themselves together as they’re continuously being interrupted. interrupted by the sheer vibrations juddering your legs apart. he’s sitting beside you, humming to himself as his eyes skim through the pricey menu. acting as if he doesn’t hear your sweet faint whines, he heard them alright. loud and clear. it’s been a while—ever since that day, you’d have been a fool to not call him from the business card he gave you. accepting his precious offer to be a sugar baby. his sugar baby. and now, you were on a date with him. not just any date though, a date where he brings along a cute new bluetooth vibrator he bought for you. it’s happy new home was located right between your pretty thighs. the setting was powered on level four and you were so so close.

this was bad . . this was really really bad, the immense pressure steadily continues to arise. the bzzzing of the toy rings through your ears to where it gets stuck in your head. everything felt slow, real real slow. the entire five-star restaurant alone was quite loud. blaring with a multitude of conversations from talkative fellow guests. the vibrator makes you whine out a tiny, shrilling squeak, and you squeeze onto his pants leg. “you’re smiling. i know you can hear m- me.”

“huhhh, oh no sweet thing. ‘s just my natural face,” and he’s got a coy grin. he was definitely smiling. “let’s try one more level,” and your legs were just about to give out the moment the buzzing intensifies. so embarrassing, you keep trying to look around, in utter hopes that no one was looking your way. it felt so good, orgasmic even. you’re on your last final hinges of pleasure before he tugs against your ripped fishnets. “hold it, girl,” he directs, planting a kiss against your neck. “don’t finish, at least wait until our food comes. let’s try usin' those manners tonight, yeahh?”

“satoru jus’ let me cum,” you whine, grabbing his wrist. you feel against his g-shock. the cold, metal material making your cute fingertips shiver a bit.

out of amusement— he hums, watching as you try to drag his hand down between your heated thighs.

seeing how desperate you were for more of his beloved touch was adorable. your expanding heat only grows and that’s when you then slouch back against the fat padded restaurant booth. the fabric of your panties felt sticky—almost adhesive like with how it sticks against your mess between your lacey undergarments. just voluntarily glued against your plushed thighs. the toy’s been wavering against your pretty clit for about a good ten minutes. the waiter took you and gojo’s order quite a while ago since then—and those long ten minutes since then felt like long ten hours. “fuck, ‘toru. can’t hold it, pleasepleaseplease.”

“hmmmm,” gojo kneads a thumb against your wrist. his touch alone made you throb more. his touch, you just wanted more of it each time. it was addictive, like a drug, like candy even.

you’re so close to your release that it’s right there. at the very tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. saliva pours into your mouth as the the inevitable pressure gradually emerges.

as people in the restaurant continue to walk by, you have to try to not be so obvious. you were failing miserably though—anyone could peer a look at you and spot the lewd expressions stretched across your face.

by now, you weren’t really trying to hide it. you were about to make a mess at a public restaurant, and maybe the simple thought of that alone made you pulse with no shame. “aw, y’r squeezin’ my wrist so tight, baby. really wanna make a mess, do ya?” and he leans right up against your neck, giving you a soft kiss. hot breath collides against your collarbone as he gives you a kiss, one simple kiss and you’re just so feral. not a single thought embedded into your mind except you were about to make the biggest nest imaginable. right underneath this table— all thanks to the stupid toy, and stupid satoru gojo, your beloved new sugar daddy. you’re nodding, tiny babbles of whimpers spewing out from your lips before he strums his fingertips against the rotating vibrator. gojo feels against the outer part of it sticking out of you, and he just wants to pull it out, making you cum himself with his tongue. he’s dirty but at least he has some kind of decorum. kind of. “so fuckin’ hot. gettin’ off at a five star restaurant like this, was supposed to be a special night but you just had to be a messy girl today, huh.”

“y- yes, ‘toru, please,” and your breathing hitches the second his frigid cold lips make contact against your skin yet again. if it was anything that could make you so weak, it was gojo’s obscene, sloppy kisses. you craved them like you craved air. “hafta cum, let me finish please. wan’ it so bad.”

with a little teasing sigh he murmurs, “okay fine,” and once he gives you the go ahead, you finally let go. the deafening music reverberating throughout the diner harmonizes over your orgasm— it was a tiny squeal but still. it silenced your own release, but you were still quite loud. you’re slump backward, feeling him turn off the toy from his phone with a simple button and he chuckles. “baby you’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” and he drags a thumb against your now soaked entrance. you’re panting, tummy heaving and heaving as your quaking legs were all sprawled open underneath the table. pried open just for him. “such a wet girl. kinda just wanna get a little taste. my own appetizer before the mea—”

“chilled alaskan king crab legs, two complementary cups of ice and herb roasted chicken—?” a waiter cuts off gojo as he’s flirting with you. with a whip of a head turn, he glances up, a bit annoyed at being interrupted. the waiter with the ordered food in hand stares at the two of you, a short petite male with a eye twitching expression. he gulped, seeing the gojo satoru and decided not to question just why his hand was literally between your thighs. “um, sorry for the delay. here you go.”

“thank you,” gojo cheeses a fake smile—yet as he watches intently as the waiter hands you both the steaming hot plates of lavish cuisine. he pops the same finger that was toying with you right into his mouth. you gaze at gojo, so filthy..

again, no shame at all—a shameless man at best. briefly, he sucks against his finger, savoring the after honeyed taste before smirking. it was as if he preferred your taste rather than the food sitting right in front of him. curling his tongue against his finger, he gives the server a coy nod. “keep the change, man.”

the waiter was stunned to see gojo reaching in his suit, grabbing out a whopping tip amount of four hundred dollars in cash—he stammers, accepting it with a grateful sheepish smile. “ah, t- thank you. please do come again.”

as the server leaves, you’re left with your own body still panting from your most recent teeth shattering release. the food was sizzling, piping hot. with hooded, partly open eyes, you dig your nails into his slacks. “you’re s- so nasty, ‘toru,” and picturing the image of him licking his finger like that . . just a few seconds ago as if it was nothing, you’d lie a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on. at least a little bit anyway. he snickers, planting a kiss against your jawline as you struggle to catch your incoming irregular breaths. “my panties are all soaked now.”

“and. let’s be real—when are you not wet, princess,” he teases, grabbing a napkin to wipe the remnants of drool seeping from the outer corners of your mouth.

gojo’s eyes were so pretty, the more you stare into his elegant, ethereal pupils— the more you wanted him. wanted more of him. swallowing, he grabs the front of your hand before kissing it. the moment his lips press against your hand, you feel your tummy swarm up with butterflies. “and don’t pout. ‘m gonna take them right off ya anyways, c’mon. let’s finish eating. got a surprise for ya back at home.”

at gojo’s mansion, secluded from other buildings to disturb his peace—his surprise for you was nothing more than his tongue.

“i need you so bad, you don’t fuckin’ understand,” he groans, and he’s making sure to take his time with you. his sweet precious time,

you’re in the master bedroom— his bedroom where it was known for having your sweet moans reverberating and bouncing off the walls. as you’re laid on your back, you let off a soft whine once he’s trailing his tongue everywhere down your body. he starts slow, making his way back up to kiss you. strands of delicate snowy strands tickle against your forehead as his lips harshly crash onto yours. you moan, sliding your tongue against his and tasting the leftover taste of what tasted like sweet, sweet tequila. he was still in his suit and tie and you wanted nothing more than to have it off. your hands roam to yank on his tie and he gradually grinds his body against you. “yeah, that’s right. ouch my body, girl. all yours.”

he’s speaking between lewd wet kisses. his voice was deep—his rhythm against your body was so passionate that it was almost carnal. you taste a bit of mint on his tongue also, separate tongues continue to dance and fight against each other all the while he’s left you speechless.

breathless even,

every few seconds he’d have to come up for air, nibbling against your bottom lip coltishly. “don’t be shy,” he whispers, watching as you hesitate to feel against his body. he finds that characteristic about you cute, how you were still shy yet slowly warming up to him. “touch me,” he repeats, his voice a bit more raspy— a bit more needy. so you do, raising your hand and you slip it underneath his dress shirt. as the cottony piece of clothing glides against your skin, he’s still compressing his lips against yours before your fingers start to roam further . . .

as they wander down the older man’s body, you feel his exact build. he was absolutely ripped, even in his early thirties—he could have easily been mistaken as a frat boy. it was no surprise, gojo practically spent his life in the gym. his personal gym anyway. you couldn’t help but take a peak at his buff biceps—only imagining what’d it be like for him to put you in a teasing chokehold.

those arms, that jacked build . .

the more you ponder about him manhandling you, the more you’re so close to making yourself more drenched. as everything progresses, you moan again. his sensual grinding against you gets more quicker and quicker over time. his hardened bulging boner rubs off on you and an arm of yours slings around his broad neck. “mhm,” he groans, feeling the soft centers of your fingertips stroke its way down toward his forbidden happy trail.

it trails and trails,

so pretty, just a beloved white trail of curled hair running down just above the horizontal border of the rest of his pubic hair. it starts near his navel and slides its way further down. a vertical strip of hair that you could never get your hands off of. as you’re still kissing him deeply, teeth gnashing amongst each other before gojo ultimately ulls away.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum jus’ from kissing you,” he lets off a throaty laugh, trying to hide his flustered state. you had him so weak. so weak but he’d never admit that. gojo brings his swollen, dripping lips towards your neck, then your collarbone, all until he goes just a bit lower. “look at this body,” he coos, pausing to take in your beauty right underneath him. “yeah, ‘m gonna take such good care of you, sweets. jus’ lie back ‘n let me love you.”

his words were as smooth as silk— the deep, resonating pitch in it bellows all around the thin walls of his bedroom. the seductively sly baritone of his voice alone makes you pulse. if it was anything gojo had, he had a way with his fucking words. gojo purses his lips, coating your tummy with a plethora of kisses. you struggle to stay still, your expensive dress he bought you a few days ago for this exact occasion now all wrinkled and creases.

but truthfully,

he didn’t care—besides, he’d always buy you another one. his favorite motto. 

as you’re lounged back, he makes you spread your legs. “mwah,” he purrs against your skin, lolling out his tongue just a bit to create a slime wet trail. it goes all the way down until he reaches near your cute navel . . then up to your half ripped panties. they weren’t ripped before the date, but they certainly were now. “you’re so sensitive today. barely did anythin' ‘n you’re squirmin’ from my touch.”

“s- satoru, please,” you whine out a pathetic breath. a hand then grips onto his tangled strands like velcro. tightly, you didn’t let go— at least not yet anyway. his hair was were messy, and that simple detail alone made him ten times more attractive. gojo’s hair as usual was a bit slicked back but still unkempt, especially now due to your gluing grip. fingers of yours massage its way through his scalp and he almost moans. with a pouty expression, you continue to speak. “you’ve been edging me all day. ‘s no fair.”

“thaaaat’s kind of rude,” he chaffs with his white brows contorting into a furrow. “was the toy not enough?” and with a shushed tone, he whistles against your clit— giving it a soft kiss, a thumb peeling down the center. “oh, right.. probably wasn’t, forgot how greedy this pussy is. ‘s my bad.”

your back arches, and you moan once he prods two long fingers inside of you—your warmth envelops around his digits easily before he pulls it out to give it a good three second whiff. “sweet,” gojo slyly says, licking against his fingers. “would have rather ate this instead,” and you moan, watching how his mouth was practically watering from your alluring taste. such a nasty man, the nastiest. gojo leans up to you, tapping against your chin. “ah ah, open that mouth baby, before i eat. don’t wanna hog, wanna make sure ya get a taste too.”

whimpering, you part your lips— sticking out your tongue before his lengthy slender fingers tug its way into your mouth.

immediately, you suck around them, lashes of yours fluttering from your blissful arousal. “m-mhm,” you slip out an inaudible gasp, feeling his free hand grab against your twitching cunt. gojo’s staring at you with the most smug expression before he pulls his digits out, sneaking a wet kiss right on your mouth. as you taste yourself, a messy cobweb string of spit departs from each mouth before he lies you back down. “fuck, hurry ‘toru.”

“now . . baby, don’t rush me,” he teases, and with your back laid against the squishy cushioned mattress, he finally digs in. your knees poke and extend outward and a sweet whine rips out rawly out of your throat. it’s almost guttural, he’s yanking out noises from you that you didn’t even know you could even produce.

once gojo starts— it’s never ending. 

he could eat you out for hours, despite how his jaw would tense and tighten. you’re moaning at the way he starts off with sloppy kisses before just straight up digging in. nose deep within seconds. it swipes against your folds in various circular motions. the rotation of his tongue was brutal— you’re whimpering, maintaining a rough grip against his hair and he chuckles. sucking deeply against your puffy slit. you throb in his mouth, and you’re already squelching. gojo groans, reaching a hand inside of his executive pants to stroke himself off.

your pleasure was his pleasure after all. he wanted to always make that clear.

gojo wasn’t lying about pointing out how hard you made him. a thumb of his runs down the vein that remains on his dick. with his eyes closed, he allows his tongue to wander through every part of your pussy. he knew just where to go. he knew the exact spots to make you scream and whine out for more.

with ease, he locates every orifice— he doesn’t miss anywhere, more so because he can’t afford to. 

gojo loves more than anything to make out with your cunt. his most favorite thing to do was to french kiss against it.

after each obscene mwah after mwah, he even allows his own saliva to help him out— despite how you were already a practical dripping faucet. careless, saturated kisses of his had you throbbing time and time again in his mouth. his head vigorously shakes back and forth, side to side as you’re practically shoving him forward. “eh—easy on the hair, pretty,” he jibes, concisely parting his lips away. gojo stares at his thumb that’s trying to insert its way in. he grows quiet, watching the scene in front of him. within long extended seconds, your pussy’s swallowing the single digit whole and you swear under your breath at how lengthy his fingers were . . even a simple thumb. gojo’s thumb stretched you out so good that you couldn’t even comprehend the feeling in words. not like you could comprehend anything anyway, you were already stupid. all from his tongue, his touch, everything. “god, such a wet girl. the nerve to be walkin’ around this soaked, ‘n she’s quite the talker today too..”

as he’s rambling with a thumb entering in and out of your cunt, he takes a moment to spit on it. it’s shimmery, he blows against it before letting off a flirty whistle. “yeah she fuckin’ is,” he praises your folds. “oooh, bet she’s gonna give me a nice squirt or two later,” and you moan once he brings his chatty lips back towards it. your pool of heat continues to grow before he lays his tongue flat. he was always a man to make a bit of a mess. your heartbeat starts to get so rapid that you heard it’s pulse right through your ears. the firm grip you have on his hair was tight. tangled crumped up fingers combing right through his hair— it makes him a bit hard. the feeling of you dragging him back and forth against his face. you could barely keep your legs open but you didn’t want him to stop. he’s practically slobbering over your pussy before he breaks away, giving you a smug grin. “like when i make out with her more than you?”

“f-fuck, ‘toru,” was all you could mutter out in shaky lips. as he’s relishing his meal between your thighs, gojo spanks your cunt twice. you’re so soaked that a few sloshing droplets hit against his skin. “ngh, you’re teasin’ me. ‘m gonna cum if you k-keep doin’ that.”

sucking passionately against your clit, his tongue flicks against the sensitive nub. that spots has you short circuiting. “nuh uh, good girls cum when they deserve it,” and the tempo of his suckling gets quicker by the mile. you’re about to break, unceremoniously grinding your hips against his mouth so much to where he chortles. as he laughs, hot breath of his fans against your pussy and it only makes you throb ten times more. 

straight convulsions, 

you’re feeling so many sensations languidly twitch against your body all at once that you could barely keep up. everything’s fuzzy so you felt like you were on cloud eight. cloud nine or whatever people call it— honestly, your mind was far too fried to even figure it out. gojo grunts, snapping you back to reality with a soft swat against your folds. “be honest with me, sweets,” gojo slicks his tongue out of your clingy walls, peppering a playful kiss against your soddened, moist folds. “do ya deserve to cum? do ya deserve to be my messy baby? tell me the truth.”

with a cute, exasperated sigh, you sob out a needy cry. “y- yesss, i’ve been good, ‘toru. been good all day,” and his sucking against your clit grows within speed. the very cartilage of his nose against his nose prods against your entrance and you feel like you’re floating. the tip of his nose was all soaked, all because of your cunt continuously scooting up against it. as he’s propped right up between your legs, a hand of his squeezes down on your right thigh before giving it a little bite. your legs, one of his favorite things to gently press his teeth into. as well as your neck, but your legs—they were just a force to be reckoned with. you were a force to be reckoned with. “satoruuuu.”

“sweetheaaaaart,” he mocks your cute dragging of your words, slurping every lewd amount of your primal arousal. you’re so cute, barely bring able to stay still so much to where he’s got to hold you in place. “but you were bein’ a bit of a brat earlier,” he hoarsely utters, rubbing his hard on against the edge of the bed. “teasin’ me, even tried ‘ta stroke me off while we were in the diner,” and with coy eyes, he gives you a cunning smirk. as you pout, he simpers. “aww yeahhh, remember that dontcha?”

continuing to rut your sloppy cunt against his face, he playfully nibbles against your clit — you whine, biting down on your lip before spreading a plump thumb against your folds like jelly.

“dunno if she should be messy just yet,” and he’s such a tease. as he speaks, his eyes avert towards your pussy, clearly wanting you to understand he was talking to her and not you. at least not right now. you could hear the playfulness underneath his tone. your heart’s racing— it’s so intense, your legs were quavering within his hold. struggling to maintain decent breaths, you end up finishing anyway. it hits you so abruptly that it’s rude, all kinds of nerves surge through you and your mouth pries itself open. the only thing escaping out of your sweet dry throat was a desperate, wailing whimper. gojo pauses, bringing a final kiss against your pussy before smearing a thumb against his lips. “the fuck.”

“s- sorry,” you pant, but truth be told—you weren’t. in fact, if he squinted just enough, he could see the little smile trying to stretch itself against your guilty, sheeny lips. you’d only last a few minutes with his tongue, featuring his long fingers, but still. 

first and foremost, your powerful orgasm had you feral, a cooling air suddenly sets down against your skin as your legs tremble before your pussy gets slapped with a mean smack. one turns into two, then three, then four . . 

“f- fuuuck, ‘toru,” you gasp, hearing the wet swats against your cunt. you’re still sensitive, your swollen folds all dampened with nothing but your slick, soaking arousal. so wet, so sloppily wet and only wet just for him.

“we talked ‘bout this, sweets,” gojo grumbles, giving your folds an almost disappointed kiss. “but ‘s like ya never listen, guess y’r pussy needs more training,” and as you’re trying to collect as much gasps of air as you can through your full lungs, he squeezes your cunt with his entire wrist. unzipping his slacks, he leans into you before pulling you into a kiss. the entire spacey room was dim lit, velvety shaded rose petals scattered everywhere onto the crinkled sheets. gojo knew how to set the mood. as he shoves a tongue down your throat, still getting a good grip of your cunt with his palm, he then makes you flop right onto your back. “mch,” he hastily pulls away, a tongue savoring your sweetened lip gloss that smothers itself against your twitching mouth. “can’t look at ya right now. face that way, yeah. face down ‘n ass up. jus’ like i taught ya, pretty.”

with unsteady hands sinking into the bed, you do as he says. a soft whine ferociously snatches out of you once a big hand of his caresses your left ass cheek. his touch, you were always so weak for it. ever since you first met the man, your first encounter which was about approximately almost two weeks ago. you started to get deeply attached, well, at least your body was . . 

as you arch forward, you feel a soft scratchy material plop against your back. gojo doesn’t waste time, tugging down his own brand of boxers with his last name stripped in bold letters near the stretchy hem. grunting, he springs his aroused dick out, aligning himself against your achy, drooling entrance. the feeling of material was just gojo throwing a few wads of cash near your back. “bratty but gorgeous,” he scoffs, feeling you wriggle your ass against him. oh, you were gonna be the death of him. the fifty dollar bills trail and slide down your spine— the view of it was so sexy, he wanted to savor this moment. you’re his favorite girl, he already knew it. a hand of his grips near your hip. “needy ‘lil thing. just gotta move that ass against me,” and as he’s speaking, he gifts your ass with another impolite spank. “ugh, pussy’s to die for.”

“s- satoru, fuck me,” your plea came out of your mouth in such a small tone. it was cute, your knees that dug into the mattress remain to grow shaky and wobbly before nearly giving out. the size difference amused him.

the delicious size of his fat cock was pure bliss. you don’t think you could ever get used to it. every time with him always felt like the first. with two clingy big hands glued to your waist, he’s easing his way in slowly. his fat tip ploddingly opens up the outer sloppy walls of your entrance and you’re so slick for him that you’re already coating gojo from the very base down. growing a bit frustrated that it seems like he’s taking forever, you creep a hand down between your thighs to touch yourself but he only spanks your wrist away.

“girl—please, let’s not touch my pussy today,” he warns slyly, catching your hand with quick reflexes.

you moan, feeling his girth expand throughout your walls. he’s just so fucking big, your mouth stretches itself open and a tiny squeak escapes. “so wet, mhm, listen to how sloppy you get for me,” and you end up falling face forward into the bed. with your ass still up in the air, he’s easily emitting such filthy moans from your throat. your pussy doesn’t take long to constrict around his hefty length. gojo always fits nice and snug inside, you wholeheartedly take him inside, drooling from how your cunt grips around him in such a secure way. just one thrust, a single thrust from gojo and you were already limp. “thereee we go, take it, pretty.”

“i-i’m gonna cum,” you whine, speaking in an almost breathy way. fat callused fingertips of his run down your spine, sending you various shivers before he spanks your bass again. the dollar bills that lay against your back start to fall right off of you from the quick paced movements. “s- sirrrr,” and with another smack, he corrects your sweet tone so you can rephrase and address him the right way. “i— i mean satoru, fuck you’re s’big. ‘m gonna cum again.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic sweetheart,” he purrs in a rich tone, feeling you already start to gape around him. your pussy flutters from his thick entrance, and once he starts up a pace you’re frantic for more. a hand of his wraps around the back of your throat like a necklace before the ruthless drilling eventually starts. the sticking cacophonous pap pap paps against each jerking limb paps was so loud. skin against skin, body against body, you felt your jaw tighten. he’s so precise and rigorous with his sharp hips that it gives you whiplash. you’re never prepared—even if you try to be. gojo knows how to hit every part of your cunt in such a way to make you squeal out in pleasure, in ecstasy. he’s got an upward curve that wanders all inside of your caved love areas. just a few thrusts and you were already salivating. “mhm,” he huffs, hearing the stickiness your cunt sings against his base. already, it’s a wet trail coating around his dick with each time he pulls out before back in. “don’t get lazy on me, pretty. i need to see a better arch. even i can do better than that.”

with a pout at his maddening cockiness, he spanks you again. you arch your back forward a bit more and he coos, “good fuckin’ girl,” and he grabs a nice chunk of your ass. burying your head into the crook of your elbow, it takes him barely any time at all to locate your forbidden g-spot.

once he hits it exactly, the sound that escapes from your lips was adorable—it was a little shriek, it sounded so beatific and harmonious it was as if he was listening to a song. a song he never wanted to end, your sweet voice. “goddamn,” he groans, feeling your ass thwack its way back against him in salacious rapture. oh, but despite that all, he knows you’re nothing but a tease. especially with your movements against him, happily moving your hips in sync with his. you’re fucking back against him and it makes him kiss his teeth. “maybe this ‘s what ya needed all along, wanted ‘ta spoil you today but all you wanted was dick, ‘s that right, sweet thing?”

“n- no,” you lie through your teeth, your own voice muffled with how you’re speaking inside of your elbow. your voice was shaky, trembling on every dragging syllable before the bed starts to get rickety. it creates sound with you both— making its own types of lewd harmonies. gojo’s weight pressing against you makes you throb, you were feeling all kinds of pleasure at once. whimpering once more at how he’s stuffing you full of thickset inches, you try to reach down to touch yourself. 

“don’t play with me,” he catches your wrist again, an almost snicker departing from his lips.

damn, so close.

holding onto your wrist, he notices you squeeze his hand, rubbing a thumb against his fingers. “aw, does the baby wanna hold my hand?” and as you struggle to nod, he gently pins your arm back.“you’re somethin’ e-else.”

his words start to cut off a bit as he’s keeping up a decent tempo—the frame of the king sized bed starts to get jittery. all from the weight and his sloppy hips rigorously pounding into you. the bed’s creaking, it’s almost deafening with how it screeches aloud from the massing pounds of hefty pressure crushing against it. “d-don’t stop, please,” and he’s just fucking you into his pillow. even the satiny rich sheets of his pillows smell like him. his signature musky scent of his gojo satoru cologne.

. . speaking of,

his pillows even have his last name bedazzled on them. literal cursive letters of ‘gojo’ written in blue. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d roll your eyes. he’s so deep, a hand of his explores the entire curvature of your hips. your curves were one of his favorite parts of your body, he could touch you all day long if he really wanted. the loving warmth that body provided him had him wanting more—yearning for more, more of you. gojo always relishes in how you respond to just a few of his fingers of his dancing against your skin. you were so sensitive and it was a real sight to witness. one of his favorite sights. “fuck, ‘toru. right there, riiight there, fuck.”

as his hips become more sharper, he hits against that same spot that causes a short circuit in your brain. you’re gasping—holding your breath before whining, he’s so thorough. hands of yours slide underneath your barely unclamped bra, fondling against your jerking tits. “good girl, play with y’r nipples for me like that,” and he swats another discourteous spank against your ass. this time it’s harder, it stings for a second and you whimper out from the sudden contact. after he spanks it, he always caresses it, rubbing the soft palm of his hand to make the sudden sting subside. “y’r so fuckin’ hot, pussy’s gonna make me fall for y—”

and he stops his words right at that last bit. your heart flutters— or maybe that was just your pussy, but you were no idiot. you knew what he was gonna say. or maybe you were delusional and misheard what he was saying. 

gojo satoru was a filthy man, he steals out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s nothing. he was a little older, which meant that he was a bit more experienced.

quite a lot more than you by a long shot, he made you feel ways in where other men never could. couldn’t even come close. maybe that’s why you were so attracted, why you wanted more . . 

a well known businessman, but downright nasty in the sheets. he couldn’t help it, nor did he even really care. gojo had you wrapped around his rich finger, just like how you had him wrapped around yours. 

with him,

the passionate intimacy lasts for many many hours. timeless, numerous until your legs were sore, until you’re just being a cum dump for him. you’re pumped full until it’s leaking out of your cunt. so stuffed, with your panties still lazily pulled to the size, some remnants of his cum coats against it. he’s lost count of how many rounds it was— maybe four, five, or was it eight. 

all you knew was that your legs had been gave out. you were now flat on your back and he’s fucking you in missionary.

beloved, iconic missionary,

the perfect position to stare you right into your eyes. he grows a liking to grab your chin right when you’re about to cum, peeling your bottom lip down, only to then shove a tongue down your throat. speaking between breathy sentences, he groans—rocking his fit body against yours. “kiss me, baby, suck my tongue,” and as he’s swaying back and forth, washboard abs poking through his shirt, your legs lock around his slim waist. a hand of yours slides its way through his dress shirt and tux, feeling against his faint chest hair and washboard abs before you part your lips. you only then start to gradually suck against the tip of his tongue. his heart beats speedily, synchronizing with yours entirely. he’s dizzy, the static that your body produces against him makes his head throw back as he pulls away. glancing up at the ceiling, still presenting your cunt deep solid strokes—he knew you were gonna be a problem. 

his prettiest problem,

perhaps he wasn’t starting to think of you as just his sugar baby, maybe even something more . . but he buried that thought into the very back of his mind. all he really cared about was your pleasure. 

pulling away for a moment, still buried into your sopping wet cunt, he grips your chin. whispering in a weary tone, smiling at you, he sighs. “. . tell me,” and he gifts your wet lips a chaste kiss. “you wanna finish with me, pretty?”

“p- please,” you moan, your legs tightly locking around his waist, never letting go. everything was a mess— the entire room had a balmy aroma of love and passion. the both of you were sweating, beads of sweat coating each body. more so gojo, this was a mere work out for him. although, he was actually used to using his body on a daily, so physical activity never bothered him in the slightest. your stomach continues to seize from his fat length and he inches his mouth toward your neck again. his lips were so soft, gently sucking against your tender skin throughout each intimate moment.

viscous amounts of cum race down your thighs as if it’s some kind of lewd competition. as it’s slowly trickling down between your legs slowly, a hand of his slithers down your shaky limbs to feel it. to make sure it doesn’t go to waste, to make sure it doesn’t spill.

gojo satoru’s cum was priceless—quite literally probably. plugging it back in before you whine. “wanna cum with you, ‘toru.”

“can never say no to you, baby,” he hums, bringing another kiss to your lips. despite his raspy worn out tone—he’s still so gentle with your body in his hands. gojo’s zealous hips slow down a bit before his lips capture against yours again. a hand swiftly wraps around your throat, briskly oscillating back against your body before another hand grabs the headboard. you glance up, spitting the veins poke out through his sleeves that were peeling down. he’s giving you slow, sensual thrusts. “fuuuck . . me,” and his words were delayed by a few seconds. he’s mercilessly grinding against your heat so good to where it becomes sloppy. he’s so close again—he knows that feeling all too well. you didn’t know what to focus on. gojo’s length, the girth that keeps your walls sweetly captive, or his voice but it was all so appetizing. so . . flavorsome.

he couldn’t help but slow down his hips a bit. with a single hand, he reaches down to pull his leaky dick out right before he came. he shot into you already—dozens of times actually, but he felt like being a tease again.

“ugh,” he groans, feeling his base swollen itself up. as you finish on your own, your body transmitting into a shockwave of a wave of rapturing rhapsody he mimics you before a stringy amount of ropes splat right onto your folds. it’s so much, so viscous and goopy that paints the entrance of your cunt to where it’s as if your pussy was a mere canvas for him. “look at thaaaat,” and as he licks his lips, you’re shaking right underneath him. gojo leans in to kiss you and that’s when the bed suddenly jitters. it’s rumbling but he ignores it— bringing you into the nth kiss for the night. “atta girl.” he whispers between kisses.

as you’re leaning into his touch, your anklet erotically rubs down the muscles of his back in such a sensual way. with tongues tangling together in corresponding harmony, the expensive wood on the headboard suddenly breaks. it’s a ear-splitting noise, an almost creak. noticing the noise, you break away from his lips before sheepishly muttering. 

“did the bed just . . break?”

“perhaps,” gojo whispers, but he was totally unfazed. you had him pussy whipped, he didn’t even look tired.

pretty cerulean irises gaze into your all—so pretty that it almost could be mistaken for a solid pigment of green. a jade loving kind of green that you only see in jewels. his intense, needy stare longs into you for a few more seconds before he makes you flip over. you gasp, still feeling his cum ooze out of you from the inside. it was so feverishly warm, sweltering hot with bulks of his sticky seed. all that and you just wanted more, you didn’t care how greedy or needy you came across.

snickering, gojo picks up the money that’s scattered everywhere on the bed only to put them right back on your back where it belongs—

he then sticks a single fifty dollar bill between your lazily stuck-to-the-side panties before letting off a dry laugh.

“let’s not worry about that though. let’s worry ‘bout how ‘m gonna try ‘ta get you pregnant, tonight sweetheart. nowww, let’s practice that arch again one more time, my love. bend over just for me, yeah. atta fuckin’ girl.”

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

Sorry, still not over Darcy critical-failing that proposal! Not that sorry, though. I have no idea why Pride and Prejudice hits so hard when most of Austen's other novels are like "They're fine! I like them! Anyway..." for me.

But, here's the thing. Darcy is being an asshole. Darcy isn't an asshole, generally, but he's really being one about his whole Regency Era situationship with Lizzie. Like, he rolls in on day one with this giant fucking chip on his shoulder, acts like he's too good for everyone, and why? Well, he's rich, and he's got lofty connections.

Except who's he rolling with right then? His spineless dustmop of a bestie and his bestie's godawful sisters. Bingley's the sort of guy who can be peer-pressured out of being in love!

Like, you know that thing where you have a friend, and they introduce you to another friend, and that friend is such a wet sock that you find yourself reevaluating your friend because they're hanging around with this guy? Like, okay, Darcy, do you have friends, or do you have toadies? Is this your bestie, or did you find a gentleman's companion that you didn't have to pay?

Later on we meet his aunt, who's the goddamned worst.

Like, we all hate Mr. Collins, right? This woman has Mr. Collins over twice a week for a quiet evening of performative dickriding. That's the kind of taste Darcy's family has. Voluntarily spending hours with Mr. Collins on a regular basis.

There's no talking about Mrs. Bennet's lack of decorum or matrimonial grasping or entitlement without talking about Lady Catherine flying in on her broom to scream at her nephew's fiancee, right? Especially considering that her basis for doing so is a cradle engagement that she seems to have never spoken to her nephew about as an adult and a fucking rumor that she assumes pertains to Lizzie.

She doesn't even talk to her fucking nephew before spending half a day in a carriage to make a blazing spectacle of herself in front of the entire Bennet household! He finds out she did that afterwards when she tries to make him break off the nonexistent engagement that she's announced to half the fucking kingdom by that point.

I mean, unexpected point to Mrs. B, who notably did not even walk down the road to Netherfield to act disappointed at anyone.

Also hard to get on too high a horse after Georgiana's near-elopement with the country's biggest asshole! Like, oh, the Bennet sisters are embarrassing? The Bennets lack propriety?

Buddy, you hired a sex trafficker to look after your sister and then your sister almost fucked the one-man-crime-wave son of your late property-manager. And you didn't even manage to hush it all up properly! Sure, he's keeping your sister's name out of his mouth, but he's running you down like a dog in every other respect to the whole county!

Like, "Oh, look at me, I'm Fitzwilliam Darcy! I'm not going to lower myself to correcting any of The Plebes who now think I deliberately misadministered a will to fuck over The Help out of cheapness and spite, especially when all it would take is one conversation with That Fucker's commanding officer, but god forbid I ever have to go out in public with a Bennet! I might die of shame and secondhand cringe!"

So he's got all of that going on, and then he busts in on Lizzie with a proposal that's got huge "I don't consent to being attracted to you" energy and runs her entire family into the ground. This is after Lizzie's spent approximately three centuries being negged by his mannerless nightmare of an aunt, so that's at least one extra level of "Really, bruh?" in there.

And then he fucking claps back at her rejection! Instead of going "Oh. Huh. Whoops. Guess I'll just have to go marry one of the other ten thousand women lined up waiting to marry me!" he's like "What the fuuuuck did I ever do to you, you fucking menace?". At which point she checks him so hard he spends the next three months bluescreening and looking up how to be polite to people you haven't already known for five years.

So like I said, he is being an asshole here. He knows how to act right, he just hasn't bothered to do so once since posting up in Netherfield because idk, he's on vacation or some shit.

Critically! However upsetting Lizzie finds The Proposal Incident (half-hour crying jag, spends the rest of the day hiding in her room), she is at no point worried about Darcy's subsequent behavior.

This is while she still thinks he genuinely did Wickham dirty and before she's had a chance to get character references from the 500 people working at Pemberley. This is the guy about whom her dad later says "Kidding-not kidding I can hardly say no to this rich fuck, can I?" when asked for his blessing. This is after Mr. Collins literally said "I've heard no means yes these days" to her fucking face and then her mother tried to make her marry him anyway.

She preached a full on sermon about the man's shortcomings to his face immediately after saying she wouldn't bounce on his dick if it was the last one on earth and after the adrenaline crash wasn't like, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck my entire life, he's going to burn down the vicarage and frame my father for tax fraud."

Everything that she's seen with her own eyes about this snobby bastard tells her he's not going to go crying to his aunt and get her cousin's patronage revoked. He's not going to go out of his way to fuck her or her family over. He's pissed, and he was definitely playing the ass with that proposal, but he's not going to lash out over it.

So this is Lizzie seeing Darcy at Peak Asshole, with extra assholery that he didn't even do but he couldn't be bothered to tell anyone he didn't do, and Lizzie's still like "omg you're such a fucking prick, how do you even get out of bed in the morning" instead of "Well, RIP to my prospects, there's no way that man doesn't have the lot of us consigned to a convent by parliamentary decree now."

[deikshen]

Omega Shen Qingqiu who is fed up with all the courtship gifts he receives. It's okay, it's entertaining, but at this point in his life he is quite tired. His Binghe has fallen (been pushed and stabbed haha oops) into the Endless Abyss, and he is really fed up with courtship gifts and having to answer civilized letters rejecting them.

So, just to spite him, Shang Qinghua sends him a courtship gift. Just to make fun of him. It's a silly little thing, literally. A flower with two long light blue petals pressed with with the description below "Hatsune Miku Flower".

Shen Qingqiu keeps it.

Okay, so if he rejects the courtship, he's supposed to return the gifts and send a rejection letter. But damn! He knows Shang Qinghua did it as a fucking joke to get on his nerves. So, he keeps the damn flower and doesn't waste his time sending the rejection letter.

Shang Qinghua comes over for tea after that, and they stay up later than would be appropriate discussing some fandom shit. In reality, time passes and it is late at night when Shen Qingqiu kicks Shang Qinghua out of his house.

A few days later, Shang Qinghua sends another gift. The truth is that, at that moment, BOTH of them have forgotten the nonsense of courtship gifts and all that. But Shang Qinghua had gone down to the village, had seen some ugly and ridiculously colorful fans, and decided that it would make a great ironic gift for his friend. So he buy them, wrap them with the most delicate care, and send them off.

And then, a few days later, he sends a very ridiculous collection of novels he found directly to his chaotic reader friend. He does so, of course, knowing that he would not be able to carry those books on his return, taking advantage of the parcel service to lighten his trip.

So when he gets to Cang Qiong, he's suddenly being looked at horribly by the other Alphas and he's just—hey, he didn't do anything wrong!!!

Shen Qingqiu enjoys his books, uses his colorful fans exclusively to hit Shang Qinghua, and only once regrettably uses one for a whole day until he realizes it and just hits Shang Qinghua swung his fan very hard, horrified.

Shang Qinghua keeps coming to drink tea, gossip and complain almost every afternoon. He often stays up late at night. At one point, Liu Qingge just stops with Shen Qingqiu to say:

"You shouldn't be with an Alpha who is courting you without a chaperone."

And Shen Qingqiu is just: "???? What Alpha is courting me?"

When Shang Qinghua arrives a while later with some sweet buns for tea, Liu Qingge rolls his eyes and runs away.

And the entire sect believes that they are in a fairly advanced phase of their courtship. Of course, it is a very serious matter; they meet all the standards of taking it as seriously as they should. Gifts, meals, providing for him; even Shen Qingqiu looks happier, using the gifts Shang Qinghua gives him to show how he accepts his courtship, eating his snacks in public, composing new songs for him.

(Shen Qingqiu doesn't compose a shit. He plays pop songs that Shang Qinghua misses on the guqin and enjoy some music he thought he would never hear again.)

When the courtship has already lasted more than half a year, everyone is restless. Although it is true that some courtships are long... The truth is that in half a year, they should already be preparing a wedding! A small ceremony at least! But neither of them seems to talk about weddings, or ceremonies, or trousseaus, or preparations, and they are all NERVOUS.

Could it be that the two peak lords are holding such a private ceremony that not even their pack of peak lords will be invited? That was rude!

Once again, Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua still have no idea what the hell is going on with them. Why do all peak lords behave so strangely? Why do they keep insisting that they go see a fortune teller? What the hell are they talking about???

[adieutristana]

nsfw headcanons; arcane women x fem!reader

still new to writing this kinda stuff yall dont kill me. anyways, here's some general headcanons. again, i'm open for nsfw requests, just please read through the new section in my rules post!

summary; general nsfw headcanons with arcane women and their girlfriend.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, lest

tags; nsfw, fluff, everything is done consensually, some aftercare (full aftercare headcanons here), fingering, cunnilingus, strap-on use, strap-on referred to as dick, degradation, rough sex, nipple play, light bdsm (sevika, lest), anal (sevika, lest), public (mel), jinx being a brat, vibrator use (jinx, caitlyn) gun play (jinx), period sex mention (jinx), usage of words like ‘slut’ and ‘whore,’ sloppy shit, p in v (lest), dacryphilia (jinx, caitlyn), wax play (lest), breeding kink (vi), orgasm denial (mel, caitlyn), thigh riding (sevika, caitlyn), blowjob (lest), shimmer (jinx, lest)

men and minors dni.

jinx;

✧.* the way i interpreted it at least, what jinx received after the fight on the bridge was a sort of shimmer infusion. she's got that stuff running in her veins, and jinx is basically 50% shimmer at this point.

✧.* i bring this up because the amount of shimmer in jinx's system gives her certain.. perks. such as her stamina being that of twenty women combined, how fast and hard she can go. she'd have fun increasing the speed, fucking you harder and harder while you're a writhing mess beneath her and can only think of the pleasure she's giving you.

✧.* even while receiving, jinx can go all night if she wanted to. she won't, because you're not as energetic as she is and she needs to let you rest (as much as she wishes you could go all night). the girl would be so damn overstimulated, but still, she'll demand that you make her cum again, and again, and again. she can keep going; she can take it.

✧.* a tit girl. she doesn’t care how big or small your boobs are, as long as she gets them in her hands and mouth! it’s probably a result of how damn sensitive her own are- jinx will be whimpering mess just from you pinching her nipples a few times.

✧.* she’s a switch, and what position she takes at what given time is just dependent on her mood. jinx is always unpredictable, always keeping you on your toes. she isn’t much different in bed.

✧.* so fucking noisy, and the dirty talk is downright filthy. it's bad enough that at times, you worry your girlfriend might lose her voice. jinx is very unfiltered in general, so you'd expect no less from her in the bedroom. she sees no point in holding back. you're making her feel good, why should she hide that?

✧.* "oh, fuck! ngh, just like that, you're fucking my pussy soooo good," she'd babble, taking every inch of your strap with impressive resolve. her lips are parted, swollen and red from just how hard she'd kissed you. obscene squelching noises filling the room while you pound into her, her legs pressed to either side of her body. "y'hear it? do you? that's me, fuckin' dripping for you. need your dick, ineeditineediti need it-"

✧.* SIZE QUEEN. jinx is a petite girl, shorter and thinner than most. yet she'd insist on you fucking her and stretching her with dildos that looked monstrous next to her. she's a whiny, squealing mess as you ease each inch into her aching pussy, but she always takes it so well. there's nothing quite like the feeling of being pried open to jinx.

✧.* along with that, she's pretty flexible so you can get creative with positions. she'll let you press your knees to either side of her body, not wincing once or growing tired.

✧.* jinx does enjoy a variety of positions- doggystyle, reverse cowgirl, the like, her favorite positions are any where she can see your face. not only does it give jinx a rush to see your flushed, fucked-out expressions, but it also gives her that sense of connection to be able to look at you while you pleasure each other. she's the type to hold eye contact with you the entire time she eats you out, and to bore her gaze into yours in missionary.

✧.* she'd be riding you, arms wrapped around your chest as you piston the strap into her. she's whimpering and squealing louder and louder with each thrust, but her eyes never would leave yours. you're fucking her at an unforgiving pace, plastic tip kissing her cervix, but she still feels so at ease and cared for.

✧.* i feel like jinx would say 'i love you' at least once every time.

✧.* a munch. jinx loves it when you sit on her face, and she's the type to be downright offended if you don't put your full body weight on her. she'd tug you down by your hips before plunging her tongue deep into you without warning, earning sharp cries from you. every time she hears those noises, her ego grows bigger, and damn. you'd allow her that.

✧.* also loves to eat you out from under her workbench. seeing you in her chair, under her desk, in her space, so willingly submissive to her- it's thrilling to her and she can't quite explain it.

✧.* "fuck yes, toots," she'd grumble, pulling back from your wet heat for just a split seconds. "you taste so damn good. so fuckin' sweet and needy f'me."

✧.* a damn brat when she wants to be. she loves to rile you up, it's like a game to jinx. not so amusing for you when you're trying to fill out paperwork and jinx is groaning, taking your pen from your hand and holding it out of your reach while she tells you to just fuck her already.

✧.* "come on! that stuff is so boring, and here i am, soaked for you," she'd pout, her knees parting more beside you on the couch. "you always have to be so responsible, and it's irritating. you could be putting those hands to better use, but noooo."

✧.* or something along the lines of, “i can’t feel anything! are you sure you’re fucking me? come on, do something!”

✧.* not so mouthy when your face is buried in her cunt, that's for sure.

✧.* very into marking. placing her claim on you. almost every time, without fail, you’ve got a new array of hickeys splayed across your neck, chest, hips, and inner thighs. also very into writing on you, with permanent marker. she’d write ‘JINX’ right above your pubic bone, draw little hearts around your nipples, draw an arrow on your inner thigh pointing to your cunt that reads ‘JINX WAZ HERE!’

✧.* a crier, especially when you overstimulate her and when she orgasms. she gets embarrassed every time and tries to explain it away, but it’s just her body’s way of processing all of those sensations. poor girl can’t hold it in :(

✧.* being with jinx, it's gonna be either her tongue, a strap, or a vibrator pleasuring you, unless you can convince jinx to cut her nails. not likely, since she takes pride in their length. sorry :(

✧.* jinx isn’t afraid to get messy. she’ll be rubbing her sticky cunt against yours, having already squirted twice- her lips swollen from your kisses, thighs and lower stomach covered in sweat and cum. but she just can’t stop grinding against you, it feels so damn right.

✧.* along with that, jinx is definitely into period sex. the first time was a whirlwind, with jinx insisting she doesn’t mind and eating you out anyways. if anything, you being on your period makes jinx want to please you more so that you forget about those pesky cramps.

✧.* squirter, and her juices are tinged pink from the shimmer running through her body.

✧.* oh, you already know the prosthetic finger vibrates. she wouldn’t tell you the first time she used it, just say something like, “i’ve got somethin’ special for ya toots! what is it? well, i can’t say just yet! but you’ll love it. i know you will.”

✧.* the way you gasp as soon as you feel the vibrations against your clit and buck your hips into the metal gives jinx all that she needs.

✧.* definitely into gun play as well. seeing your pussy stretch to accommodate the barrel of her gun, the way your eyes widen and you gasp when her finger brushes over the trigger… oh, it’s art. jinx could fully get addicted to it.

vi;

✧.* A MUNCH.

✧.* it probably sounds far-fetched, but vi could cum just from eating you out. from tasting your sweet juices, the scent of your heat, the way your face contorts in pleasure, the trembling of your thighs in her hands, the obscene noises that spill from your lips, how it feels when you cum in her mouth- vi gets lost in it every single time.

✧.* it gets to a point some nights where you’ll almost have to pry vi’s face from between your legs.

✧.* likes to switch and doesn’t have a preference when it comes to top or bottom. i take her as the type who would do both during most sessions to balance things out, she gets some and you get some!

✧.* dirty talk is crazy when she’s domming, but when vi is subbing she can barely string together a coherent thought, especially not a full sentence. she tries to talk to you, tries to let you know how good you’re feeling, but it comes out more as a choppy string of moans and ‘please’s.

✧.* “oh, that feels so- haaaah, please, mm-”

✧.* vi is strong, stronger than most. meaning she can pick you up, fuck you while holding you up against a wall, or she could use that strength to slam your wrists into the mattress above your head while her free hand works at your heat. the possibilities are endless!

✧.* not necessarily loud, but she doesn’t hold back when it comes to noises either. always some form of grunting, groaning, heaving. or whimpering, when she’s on bottom.

✧.* her tits are so sensitive. she’ll try to act like it’s nothing when your hands brush over her hardened nipples, but oh gods when your lips form a seal over one and you start to swirl your tongue around it, vi loses her mind. she’s threading calloused fingers into your hair, trying to push you impossibly closer to her.

✧.* loves giving strap- she likes to receive too, but she’s more partial to giving when it comes to strap-on usage. it just gives her a rush, being on top of you, making you take her. it’s a bit of a power trip for vi.

✧.* “yeah, fucking take my cock- ngh… such a good girl for me, such a good slut.” she’s a panting mess, pounding into you from behind. your asscheeks are sore from the swats she’s given them, and you can feel vi filling you to the brim with every thrust. yet it’s intoxicating.

✧.* vi is just so smitten with you, she’ll do almost anything if you ask nicely. any position, any toys, any kink you want to try out. she’s a lover girl at heart, and aims to please above all else. all you have to do is say the word.

✧.* due to her sweet nature, vi would be so attentive during rougher sex with you. even as she’s tossing you around, coaxing what must be your fourth or fifth orgasm out of you, calling you pathetic and needy, she’d be looking out for you. one second she’s degrading you, the next she’s asking if you’re okay and if you need a break. additionally, she does internally wince when she talks down to you, though she tries to hide it. she knows you know she doesn’t actually think of you like that, but she does hold back because she can’t bear the thought of going too far with it.

✧.*despite liking to be rough from time to time, especially if she knows that you like it and you ask for it, vi also does enjoy slow, sweet lovemaking to keep things balanced. she likes being able to pleasure you, to worship you, show you exactly how much you mean to her through her touch.

✧.* “shh, baby,” she’d whisper, kissing down the valley between your breasts, towards your sternum and stomach. “i’ll make you feel good. so good. just lay your pretty self back and take it. can you do that for me, love?”

✧.* her favorite positions are probably doggystyle and 69. doggystyle gives her room to manipulate your body, a prime angle to pound into you, room to pull your hair and force you to look back at her while you’re coming undone on her dick. 69 is ideal for eating you out, but you both get off, so it’s even better. she’d be trying to stifle moans while her tongue is lapping at your clit, sending vibrations through your core when she can’t hold back anymore.

✧.* one orgasm is never enough when it comes to vi. she wants to give you more, and more, and more. her hand would be soaked and her fingers beginning to prune from just how much you’ve already given her, but she still swears you can give her one more (those words are almost always a lie).

✧.* creamer, and there’s SO much of it. the first time you made her cum you didn’t say anything, but you questioned to yourself whether this is a normal amount. but you quickly grew to love it- seeing vi make such a mess, shaking and whining.

✧.* can somebody say BREEDING KINK. no, it’s not scientifically possible for a woman to get another woman pregnant. but vi will be damned if she doesn’t try.

✧.* pistoning her strap into you while she has you folded into a mating press, grunting and panting with her hands on either side of your head. “gonna fill you up just right,” she’d say, breathless. “please, vi-” “shh. i’ll give it to you, you’ll be such a pretty mama, fuck- take it. take it all.”

✧.* while she enjoys getting her tits played with, i definitely see vi as more of an ass girl when it comes to you. she loves eating you out from behind, slapping your ass during sex, even slapping your ass in public when you’re just trying to pay the poor street vendor. she just can’t get enough of the feeling of plush skin in her hands. the shape, the sensation.

✧.* a head pusher. practically shoves your mouth into her pussy while she’s bucking into your face, groaning and panting while your tongue laps up everything she’ll give you. the proximity does something for her, but she also just… can’t help it. it’s reflex at this point. you hit just the right spot, and her strong hand is flying to the back of your head to push you even further.

✧.* RIDE HER ABS. that’s all i’ll say.

mel;

✧.* such a devoted and sweet lover. also a switch, and she truly doesn’t mind what position she takes at what moment. usually mel lets you decide, she trusts you and the pace you set.

✧.* she’s devoted to your pleasure, but she also won’t deny herself any; not by a long shot.

✧.* however, there are times when she’s had a frustrating day at work. the councilors wouldn’t listen to her, her ideas weren’t getting anywhere, she felt a mental block growing stronger with each passing second. every minute she was in that room was like torture, and all she wanted was to get home.

✧.* so the second she does, she’s asking you to lay down so she can lower her pussy onto your face and lose herself.

✧.* “please, love, make me forget- oh, shit! aah!”

✧.* mel doesn’t really curse much, so a good signifier that she’s feeling good is when you hear her swearing. she’s always so poised, so refined in the way she speaks. careful to converse in a manner becoming of a councilor, of a medarda. so when she’s making those pretty sounds, laid back with three fingers deep inside of her and you hear her swear, you know you’ve got her.

✧.* “right there, hah, mm…” she’d moan, grabbing at one of her breasts to anchor herself. “that feels so- fuck! oh, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

✧.* she’s not necessarily loud either, just the right volume to assure you that she’s feeling good.

✧.* mel’s stamina is pretty average. she knows how to pace herself, so it’s really up to you and how long you want to go for.

✧.* she prefers lovemaking and being doted on in the bedroom rather than rough sex and being denied. that’s not to say she’s opposed to trying out something more hardcore, but generally, she prefers to feel cared for in the moment. touch her, love her, worship her.

✧.* however, when she’s topping, she could deny you for hours. it’s something to do with the power she’s holding over you.

✧.* “mpph, please, just let me come, aaah.. i’ll be so good, mel.” you’d whimper, writhing beneath her touch. “shh. you’ve been so good already, but you can hold out a bit longer, can’t you? that’s my strong girl.”

✧.* partial to body worship. take your time with her, slowly removing her clothing to tell her every little thing you love about her body. her soft skin. the swells of her breasts, her lean muscle and smooth thighs. she’ll be gasping, petting your hair and praising you, letting you know what feels right. every touch from you feels like a promise, and you’ll do damn right to keep it.

✧.* TRIBBING. she especially loves being on top when it comes to scissoring, so that she can set the pace and get both of you off just right. it checks off all of mel’s boxes- proximity, close connection, being able to see your pretty face, and the fact that you both get pleasure from it.

✧.* “oh, gods, love,” she’d grunt, grinding her wet cunt into yours. strings of arousal connecting the two of you, rutting into each other. “don’t stop, unngh- that’s so good, so fucking good.. faster. faster.”

✧.* although she’s refined and poised, mel is not above fucking you in public. you’d be at a gala together, champagne glass in hand and trying to converse with others; some of the most important figures and families in piltover. yet all you can focus on is mel, the way the white dress she chose hugs the curves of her hips just right, and the slit that runs up the side. you try to be subtle, but mel is observant. she notices. and this is one of the few times where she’s a bit more rough.

✧.* “just couldn’t wait?” she’d ask, her fingers pounding into you in an empty room just outside of the crowded hall. “almost struck a deal, a good one, before you started undressing me with your eyes. it’s distracting, love.” “i’m sorry, baby,” you’d whimper, so fucking close to your peak. “sorry isn’t going to cut it. but you’re so pretty… so wet, too. i’ll be merciful.”

✧.* mel likes to set the mood. candles, maybe some soft music crackling over a stereo as well. as i keep saying, she’s a romantic! she wants you to see the effort she’s putting in for you, to know just how much she cares. all of this is worth it to her, you’re worth it.

✧.* just one is rarely enough for mel. if you’re more the one-and-done type, she won’t try to coax more orgasms out of you- but for her, she can go several rounds. back to back to back, coming undone on your fingers and mouth and strap and loving every second.

✧.* always holding onto you somehow. her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she rides you, one arm around your waist to steady you while she fingers you against a wall, the like. however, mel’s favorite is holding your hand, interlacing your fingers together. it just feels so intimate, so loving. it’s also grounding in a way, she can squeeze your hands as the sensations grow stronger, or as a silent support while you teeter over the edge of climax.

✧.* aside from times like i mentioned earlier, mel isn’t really a fan of quickies. there are some exceptions, but she prefers to take it slow within the confines of a place she knows is safe. she wants to take her time to truly appreciate you, and she can’t do that if she’s got a time constraint.

✧.* says she loves you every time, probably multiple times. the intimacy of it all overpowers her. some people may think that saying ‘i love you’ over and over makes it lose meaning, but on the contrary, mel means it more each time she says it.

✧.* “oh, oh, gods… mm, i love you, right there…”

sevika;

✧.* have fun trying to move at all after sleeping with sevika.

✧.* she’s a top-leaning switch. she won’t deny pleasure herself, but she won’t ask for it either. she’s more than happy to just fuck you again and again, her pleasure being derived from the sight of your head thrown back in ecstasy and the sound of your pleasured screams.

✧.* sevika loves just about anything, but she’s partial to the strap. it gives her a rush of power, being able to split you open and fuck you so deep, so right. definitely gets one of the biggest dildos she can find to insert into the strap, just so she can make you lay there and take it.

✧.* rough, experienced, and doesn’t hold back when it comes to degradation. she’d pull her cock almost fully out of you, just leaving the tip- before slamming back in, drawing a borderline pornographic moan from your lips. “fuck, doll, you sound filthy. can’t even talk right now, can you? fuckin’ slut, losing her mind already.” she’d drink in all of your noises, your labored breathing and the way your eyes roll to the back of your head. “gods. i’ve never been with someone this fuckin’ desperate. i almost pity you.”

✧.* can and will manhandle you. she’ll be pushing your chest further into the mattress while fucking you from behind, yanking your hips into hers as she thrusts into you. smacking your ass so hard the sound nearly echoes through the room. she’ll flip you on your back, nearly throwing you down on the bed just to continue her relentless rhythm. she wants to absolutely ruin you. so let her.

✧.* she wants to leave you sore and tired for the next day, so that every time you try to even take a step you’re reminded of exactly what, or who put you into this position.

✧.* sevika’s stamina is admirable. exhaustion weighs heavy on her during the day, her work cut out for her. running around handling zaun, tying up loose ends silco left, and making sure jinx doesn’t get herself into too much trouble wears her out quickly. but somehow she still has so much energy when it comes to fucking you. she could go all night if you allowed her, without so much as yawning.

✧.* she’ll grab your chin to force you to look at her, holding direct eye contact while she fucks you. she wants to see every expression of yours, she wants you to see her face while you cum.

✧.* “who’s makin’ this pussy feel good?” she’d demand, grunting as she grabs a fistful of your hair. you’d yelp at the sensation, your voice breathy and bordering on whiny. “aahh! you! you, mmph- sevika, you’re making it feel so good…”

✧.* also lowkey (highkey) really into anal… being able to please your tight asshole and feel you clench around her fingers as she keeps rutting into your cunt. yeah

✧.* it’s not often that she does, but sevika likes to have you tied up. your wrists tied to the headboard of her bed, the wood creaking while she rocks into you and holds your thighs apart. it’s picturesque almost, you look so damn perfect and pliant. and all for her.

✧.* the ropes are rough and frayed, something similar to what would be used on a ship. it’s not much, and they look like they’ve been used before- they’ll definitely leave marks on your wrists once you’re done. not to worry, sevika already has ointments for once you’re done, and she makes sure to space things like this out. she loves the sight of you bound for her, but not enough to over exert your poor skin.

✧.* she loves hearing those gorgeous sounds you make for her, but sevika does have neighbors and she’s not above shoving your discarded shirt or panties into your mouth if she feels that you’re being too loud. “hush. gonna wake the whole neighborhood at this point, doll. or is that what you want?”

✧.* when she does allow you to top, she’s pretty quiet. a stark contrast to how breathy and gruff she is while pleasing you, but she’ll still make noises! just at a low volume. yet her words do still hold some of that domineering edge.

✧.* your tongue would be delicately splitting her wet folds, teasingly licking up her slit before it brushes right over her clit. a shiver runs up her spine and she groans, a breathy noise that only serves to motivate you more.

✧.* “shit, baby, like that…” she’d breathe out, her chest beginning to heave up and down. “faster, baby. more. like you mean it.”

✧.* creamer, but she’ll squirt if you coax enough orgasms out of her. when you first found this out, she was on the edge of her fifth orgasm, panting and grunting before her walls clenched around your tongue. you then felt a wet warmth splash onto your face, and your gaze flickered. something downright predatory awoke in you, making you desperate to see that again and again.

✧.* “come on, sevi, just gimme one more, mm… that was so fucking hot,” you’d murmur, bringing your face close to her glistening cunt yet again. “another? i think- aah, i’ll break,” sevika breathes out. “good.”

✧.* RIDE HER THIGH. she didn’t even know she was into it at first. you’d be kissing her, panting into her mouth as you strip her of her shirt- before pulling away. “i wanna try something,” you’d say, before lowering yourself onto one of her bulky thighs. beginning to rock your hips, your clothed clit bumping against her thigh while a sharp gasp is pulled from you.

✧.* sevika’s eyes are opened to a whole new realm of possibilities. her hands are flying to your waist to help guide you along on her thigh, feeling your arousal leak through the cotton of your panties. “fuck, dove, you really are a whore.” she says, a low chuckle following. “i wouldn’t have thought of this, but you’re just too damn eager… look at you, soaking me. you’re lucky you’re so pretty.”

✧.* before you know it, sevika is asking you to ride her thigh regularly!

✧.* sevika’s neck is her weak spot. kiss up the expanse of it, suck dark marks into her pulse point, and she’s a damn mess. she’s tilting her head back so you have easier access, melting from you just touching her neck. it’s kind of adorable, honestly.

✧.* switches up the second you’re done- is so sweet and loving during aftercare. making sure that you’re okay and taken care of before she even thinks of doing anything for herself, making sure she didn’t go too far and you’re not too wrecked.

caitlyn;

✧.* switch with a slight preference for topping. she’s been in control most of her life, usually having the upper hand and hardly ever not getting what she wants. she doesn’t expect much less in the bedroom- that, and she loves seeing you fall apart beneath her, knowing that she’s the one responsible.

✧.* caitlyn has long and strong fingers, perfect for reaching all the spots that you’ve never been able to reach yourself. the second her middle finger brushes against that spongy spot that makes your vision blank, her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth is open in a ‘ah, gotcha!’ expression.

✧.* “yeah, darling? you like that? should i keep going, hm?” you’d nod frantically, panting and flushed beneath her. “then keep being good for me. you can do that, can’t you?”

✧.* BRAT TAMER. you might be able to get away with being mouthy with others, but never with cait. she’s a patient woman, but you learn after a while of being with her how to push her buttons just right. wearing that very patience thin with every word and sway of your hips. you’re giggling, until caitlyn is pushing you against a wall and clawing at your clothing, ordering you to spread your legs.

✧.* “i thought this was what you wanted? what you were begging for, not even a minute ago?” she’d grunt, slamming her purple strap into you at an alarming pace. ragged gasps and moans are pulled from your parted lips, and hot tears begin to stream down both of your cheeks. caitlyn would let out a low chuckle, tutting. “what, you’re crying now? come on, it’s not that bad. just a little lesson for you.” she’d coo.

✧.* there’s also been several times when you haven’t been able to behave yourself in her workplace, and she’d whisk you to her office to bend you over the hard wood of her desk, fucking you right then and there.

✧.* part of caitlyn delights at the sight of your tears. it’s exhilarating, in a way. seeing you so desperate, so wanton, knowing it was her who took you apart so expertly. seeing you so bared and vulnerable for her is a moment she wishes she could frame every time.

✧.* caitlyn can be such a temptress. she’s beautiful, anyone can see that- and she uses that beauty to her advantage. you’d come home from a long day of working harder than you ought, to be greeted by your girlfriend in white lace lingerie that leaves very little to the imagination. she knows you can’t resist, and she’s internally celebrating the moment you pounce on her.

✧.* “how was work, love?” she’d ask, voice low and smooth. “you look like you’re starving. maybe i can do something about that?” she’d muse, fingers teasing under one of her thigh garters.

✧.* when subbing, caitlyn is loud. she’s not screaming out in pleasure, but she doesn’t hold back any noises. she wants you to know how good you’re making her feel, to hear it on her lips and in her choppy words.

✧.* likes clitoral stimulation best, i think. don’t get me wrong, she thoroughly enjoys the feeling of penetration- but something about having her pretty clit played with until she’s an aching mess is just better.

✧.* also likes to be praised when she’s on bottom. tell her how beautiful she is, tell her that you’re taking her just right and she sounds so pretty right now. not only does it provide an ego boost, but it makes caitlyn feel so loved.

✧.* she’s a bit embarrassed to admit it, but she likes being on the receiving end of orgasm denial. so fucking close, her body strung thin like a bowstring. each nerve ending nearly on fire. but she can’t cum, not until you give her the green light, and it drives her insane.

✧.* “please, i’m losing my mind,” she’d cry out. “i need- mmf- i need to cum, pleasedarlingillbesogood,”

✧.* not opposed to quickies, but doesn’t opt for them. however, there are occasions where she’ll steal you away just before you have to leave for work, her fingers working as quickly as she possibly can to get you off- giving you something to think about the rest of the day.

✧.* something about your hips draws caitlyn in. maybe it’s the plush skin against them, the way they’re perfect for her nails to dig into, the feeling she gets when they rut against her, the rush she gets from gripping them to guide you as you grind against her thigh, or the way they sway when you walk. she can’t quite pinpoint it, but she also doesn’t care to.

✧.* “fuck, darling, keep moving,” she’d breathe out, gripping the tops of your hips as your wetness spreads over her thigh- folds glistening, head tilted back as lewd moans fill the room. “you look beautiful like this. so damn perfect, like you’re made for my viewing…”

✧.* she enjoys pet names a lot, but i think one of caitlyn’s weaknesses would be just addressing her by her name. especially if you usually call her by pet names outside of the bedroom. it feels so intimate, so personal.

✧.* “such a good girl for me, caitlyn,” you’d whisper, holding a bullet vibrator to her wet clit. “look at this pussy, so desperate for me. i can’t get enough.”

✧.* her favorite places to have sex are her bed and her desk. simple, but they work- her bed is a sanctuary, and it’s comfortable. optimal. her work desk serves many purposes, but her favorite is pleasuring each other.

✧.* caitlyn’s eyes are hypnotic, her gaze piercing. she’s big on eye contact during sex, demanding that you look at her the entire time. even as you’re fighting to not let your eyes snap shut or roll to the back of your head, the commanding tone in her voice keeps you grounded. it’s an ego boost, but it’s also a way of connecting to you.

✧.* gets rough when she’s especially stressed, which is often. she’s an enforcer and one of piltover’s most powerful figures; caitlyn is basically a walking manifestation of stress. slapping your tits, grabbing your chin, degrading you, shoving her fingers into your mouth and down your throat to shut you up.

✧.* that’s not to say that she doesn’t enjoy gentle love making from time to time- she absolutely does. she loves those nights where you take your time with her, truly conceptualize your affections for her. just how much you love her. she just gets carried away in the moment more than she’d like to admit.

lest;

✧.* switch with a preference for subbing. she will dom you if you ask her to, but most of the time, lest likes to lay back and bask in the feeling of you touching her. the scent of incense thick in the air, hair freed from her scarf and fanned around her as she lets out soft moans.

✧.* her voice is so smooth, so calming. the kind of voice you could fall asleep to. lest isn’t necessarily loud during sex, but she gets pretty vocal. and her noises, her words sound almost heaven sent.

✧.* “oh, keep doing- aahh!- that, darling…” she’d breathe out, her tone soft and buttery with desperation. “i need it, i’m so close-”

✧.* lest is definitely experienced, so she knows well and good what gets her going. she’ll tell you as well, guiding your hands to exactly where she needs them and describing in vulgar detail what she wants you to do to her.

✧.* “play with my tits with one hand, stroke me with the other,” she’d breathe out, placing your hands over both her perky breast and twitching cock. “pinch my nipple, hard, run your thumb over the tip- oh, fuuuuck…”

✧.* the tip of her dick is easily the most sensitive part of her body. it’s so sensitive, it’s almost comical- but lest can’t help it. you know how to pleasure her exactly the way she needs. as soon as you take it into your mouth, teasing your tongue over the head before taking her full length, she’s already fighting the urge to buck into your mouth. it draws sharp gasps from her throat, her fingers gripping at the bedsheets.

✧.* but her tits aren’t meant to be neglected, either. plump and soft, sitting so pretty on her. her nipples are definitely pierced, usually adorning gold bars with dangling chains. play with them, suck on them, place clamps on them. she’ll eat all of it up, praising you all the while.

✧.* definitely enjoys being tied up during the act, and she’d likely want to try shibari at some point. she has the nice ropes: purple woven silk, soft against her wrists and ankles. the feeling of being bared open before you, completely powerless and at your mercy can’t compare to anything else.

✧.* i think lest is really into wax play, but can’t participate as much as she’d like to because wax is a pain in the ass to get out of fur. she’ll gasp at the feeling of hot, sticky wax on her tits and stomach, a shiver running through her body involuntarily. you like to indulge her from time to time, relishing in her every reaction. again, it just can’t be as often as you’d both like because of the aftermath :(

✧.* lest can’t exactly finger you since she uh… has claws. but she’s so skillful with her mouth, the thought of what you might be missing doesn’t even cross your mind. she’d take your clit between her lips, teasing over the bud with her tongue before sucking. brushing her silky hair over her shoulder and angling her jaw so she has even more access to you, drinking in every sound you make.

✧.* “you taste amazing, darling,” she’d murmur. “stay still, mm.. you want to cum, don’t you?”

✧.* lest could grow addicted to just eating you out. the feeling of your release on her tongue is a high she never wants to come down from. she’ll draw orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from you on just her tongue.

✧.* praise her!! tell lest how good she’s doing, how beautiful she looks between your thighs and how lucky you are to have her. it only makes her more eager to please you.

✧.* “gods, you’re beautiful,” you’d whisper, “that feels amazing, you’re amazing, you’re perfect-” before feeling her tongue slip from your clit to your wet hole, prying you open.

✧.* LOVES to be pegged. she’s also partial to cowgirl, but lests’s absolute favorite is doggystyle. she craves the sensation of you slamming into her hole, gripping her plump asscheek with one hand and yanking on her tail with the other. she’d let out a sharp yowl, her chest almost collapsing into the mattress at the feeling. but it feels so fucking good, even though it’s sending pain up her spine.

✧.* “oh, yes, yesyesyes,” she’d babble, so bravely taking every inch of your strap. “don’t stop, go harder- fuck, ow!” she gasps, her soft tail in your grasp as you pull. “sorry,” you’d wince, slightly loosening your grip. “no. keep holding it, it- aahh! feels damn good.”

✧.* she cums pretty quickly when you strap her down. she’s a bit embarrassed about it, but she just can’t help it. your strap rubs against her g-spot so perfectly, your rhythm is exactly what she needs and you fill her up just right.

✧.* alternatively, lest loves when you ride her. seeing your face while you’re on top of her, claws digging into your hips while she bounces you up and down on her length… oh, it’s gold. and the sight of your tits bouncing is always a welcome bonus.

✧.* sometimes lest will have her pipe with her while you ride her, in which case she’ll allow you to shotgun hits. your breaths mingling with one another and lips almost touching as magenta smoke is passed between the two of you. it only serves to further heighten your senses, bringing you even greater pleasure.

✧.* “you’re divine,” she’d breathe out, hips rocking into you with fervor. “take it. take everything, just like i know you can. you’re a damn work of art.”

[bunny-jpeg]

captain mactavish loved to see virgins squirm on his cock. johnny mactavish was a notable womb buster and virgin breaker. he loved to leave the pretty bonnies panting for more, he loved to leave them fucked out and whiny. pathetic little things under him. he loved watching the cute little things on base run to find emergency contraceptive because even if captain mactavish tried to use condoms, it was nothing like filling a bonnie full of his cum.

you were his favourite though, the kind of woman that left johnny panting for more. you made him more feral than an upright man. he was a captain and yet when you walked by, his cock got leaky with want.

he man handled you like you were a toy. bruise your soft hips and fuck you until he was trying to get you to taste his cum in the back of your throat. johnny spent too much time with the structure of the military, he was battle-worn so to lose control in your pretty pussy was a luxury that he knew he couldn't go without. there were a dozen pretty faces on base, but none of them lingered in johnny's mind. so when he got you on your back in his room and his strong arms planted on either side of you. his cock rubbed up against the front of your pussy, his words filthy, "we gotta get 'em reacquainted, hen. been gone too long, she probably misses me." his words curled around a base part of your brain that was fueled by sexual need. you whimpered a little bit, you were caged under your captain. he was painfully big and as a result of your many encounters. not even your toys from home could relieve the itch under your skin. your captain was the only person that could make you cum. and johnny was more than happy to shoot every last of his swimmers into your cunt. at least he'd be certain that no other man could have you. when he got his impressive length into you without too much noise from you. he licked his lips. those blue eyes of his were heavy with a sexual want and you thought you found heaven. especially when he leaned back on his heels and lifted your hips until your were bent in a way that your knees were to your ears. you soaked cunt on full display for him.

"captain." "don't worry, bonnie. i got ya. just stay there, hook your arms under your knees so ya don't fall over." his words were heavy, almost caring as if you couldn't feel his hard cock in your stomach. he held onto you tighter and started to move against you heavily. you kicked out your legs a little bit and you felt heat flood your cheeks as he fucked you. the bed squeaked under the both of you as he placed sloppy kisses on your skin. he couldn't wait till he got some time off with you, he took you back to his flat in glasgow and got to mark your pretty skin. he wanted to see how bruised he could make your neck before you two got stares in public. as if they couldn't smell his cum on your skin. shore leave sounded nice about now, pull a few strings and surprise, you're with johnny the entire time. that was the luxury of being a captain. if you thought about leaving him, then he'd pull every string he could get his hands on to get you back in his circle. but from the blissed out expression on your face as he fucked you, you weren't getting anywhere fast. at least not until johnny puts a baby in you. he heard you talk about not wanting children, he had already made the decision for you. it wouldn't be hard, you put your faith too much in birth control and johnny was not about playing dirty. everything had a failure rate, it was only a matter of time. especially when his cock head was pressed up against your cervix. and it made you drool against your covers when you turned your head to the side. he could feel your pretty cunt flutter around his achy cock. the idea of him being with the only made you'd ever be with excited him and made him thrust against you faster. you whimpered and arched your back. he knew when you came then your brain would go flat lined. and he was right, you clutched onto him as you came. back arched and you squeezed your eyes shut. you didn't even form words, you just made a sharp noise that made johnny feel really good. the sight of you made him cum quickly as well. a thrust of his hips to make sure that his cock was getting comfortable with our spongy little womb. a promise of things to come.

before you could muster the strength to go find a way to make sure you didn't get pregnant, johnny was already one step ahead of you. his cock was hard once more and you were on your stomach, back arched to let johnny fuck that sweet cunt once more. even if you tried to claw at the sheets in some half-assed attempt to escape, johnny would always over power you. you're not getting away that easily, so just lie that and let your captain do all the hard work.

"don't sniffle there, bonnie. you'll look a lot better with some baby fat on your hips." <3

[billiereid]

Jealousy: Haikyuu! x Reader

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years or older. Minors, do not interact.

Featuring: Tetsuro Kuroo. Kenma Kozume. Kotaro Bokuto. Keiji Akaashi. Fem!Reader.

Contains: Posessive behavior. Jealousy. Fingering. Oral sex (F receiving). P in V sex. Edging. Praise. Exhibitionism. Public sex.

Summary: The boys all know that you love them. Your relationship is special and important, and you've never given them any reason to distrust you. But even still, everyone has insecurities. Everyone gets jealous sometimes. Here's how they react when that jealousy starts to flare up over you.

Author's Note: This is written post-timeskip. All characters are written to be adults.

Tetsuro Kuroo

Kuroo is one possessive motherfucker. At least, compared to the rest of the people on this list. 

He’s happy to always let you have your space, your friends, anything you need.

But the moment he feels like another guy might end up in first place?

Absolutely the fuck not.

There was no reason for Kuroo to worry. He knew it. You knew it. But the moment one of your coworkers started giving you a ride home, he decided things were getting a little too friendly. 

And he would never demand 100% of your time, your attention. That just wasn’t the kind of guy Kuroo was, and it wasn’t realistic anyway. You were a person. You deserved to have your friends, your family, your space, your fun. 

But you were his. And he was going to make sure it was drilled into your head before the night was over. 

“Please, Tetsu–” you all but whined. You didn’t know how long you’d been underneath him at this point. Your entire body was flushed with pleasure. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even come up with words. You had gotten so close at least a dozen times. A dozen edges that felt like a hundred. 

All because of his hands.

Kuroo had his fingers buried inside you now. He’d had them on your clit just minutes ago, though after edging three times it certainly felt like hours. Now, he had your two favorites stuffed inside you, pressing against all your inner buttons and making your head spin. 

“Aww, baby’s being so patient, aren’t you?” Tetsuro purred on his knees in front of you, his free hand pinning your hips to the bed with a bruising grip. “What do you think, princess? If I let you come right now, ‘re you gonna make a mess all over me?”

You knew what he wanted, knew that he wanted you to squirt. But you had only ever done it once for him, and it was a long time ago, when you were both a little too tipsy to care about having to change the sheets afterward. But now? Now, you weren’t sure if you could. 

“You’re still thinking too much, babygirl,” Kuroo said, his voice low and nurturing despite the filthy squelching sounds that his fingers were making inside your ruined pussy. “Eyes on me, princess.” It was a command disguised as a gentle coaxing. Your eyes, glazed over with pleasure and the effort to hold back your orgasm, finally met Tetsuro’s. “There’s my pretty girl,” he purred. 

The imaginary cord inside of you was wound so tight over and over, and you could tell it was about to snap, permission or no. 

“Whose are you, sweet girl?” Kuroo asked. He needed to hear you say it–to make you say it.

Your eyes widened a little bit as you realized, he really might not let you come. “Tets–”

“I said, whose are you?” he repeated. When you still couldn’t seem to find the words, his eyes darkened in that dominant way that only his could manage. “Answer, or I’ll edge you again.”

The edges of panic crept into your mind. You couldn’t handle being edged again. You were already so sensitive. “Yours! Yours, Tetsuro, I’m yours,” you chanted frantically, hoping that this time he’e actually let you come. 

“That’s fucking right,” Kuroo praised. “Now, come. And make a mess all over this fucking bed.”

Kenma Kozume

Honestly, Kenma’s not usually a jealous person. 

He knows you love him, and you’ve never given him a reason not to trust you.

Just like anyone else, though, there are little insecurities. 

And rather than getting possessive or angry, he just finds himself reminding you of all the reasons you keep him around.

It should’ve been such a simple interaction, really. 

You’d left your wallet on the train when you were on your way home. Someone had found it and had been kind enough to meet up with you in a coffee shop and return it. Kenma had even agreed to go with you, even though there wasn’t much he could’ve done in the way of protecting you. He had seen the entire interaction happen. There was nothing suspicious. You hadn’t even touched the man who came to return your wallet, hadn’t seemed to flirt or even bat your eyes in his direction. 

But he was tall. Extremely tall. Not that it normally mattered. But he also might’ve been handsome to some people, Kenma guessed, and his voice kind of sounded like warm butter when he spoke. And he was so kind, and your smile was so pretty when you looked up at him. But your smile was always pretty, especially when you were looking at Kenma. And it didn’t matter. 

But it did. 

Kenma wasn’t even really aware of what he was doing. But he spent the rest of the day doing whatever you wanted, his entire focus on you. He took you for lunch, then ice cream. He took you to your favorite little used bookstore, and he even stopped for a coffee on the way home.

And now, as the sun was setting outside your shared apartment, he was kneeling on the floor in front of your couch with his lips attached between your thighs. Kenma suckled sweetly on your clit, fingers kneading the squishy plush of your hips. His tongue dipped inside to taste your wetness before his lips returned to your clit. You’re his, you’re his, you’re so his. 

He wasn’t really sure if he was convincing you or himself.

Kenma fully moaned against your pussy as he tasted you, completely enraptured by the sight of your back arching in response to the pleasure he was giving you.. His tongue always made you dizzy. Your hands carded through his hair, continuously brushing it out of his face for him as he devoured you.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. The desire practically rolled off of you in waves. The buildup was completely delicious, making time seem to slow down around you. 

“So good… So perfect…” you told Kenma, looking down at him between your thighs. Your voice was husky, dripping with your need, and the words poured out of your mouth before your brain could even think to stop them. Not that you would’ve stopped him anyway. Kenma was perfect, and you were going to let him know that. 

Kenma whimpered under your praise, his tongue flickering over your clit in that way he knows you love so much. Your back arched again–fuck, you were pretty when you did that. 

“Baby… please, don’t stop…” you begged, your voice little more than a breathy moan as you got closer to that high you needed so badly. 

But he pulled his lips away. Your head fell back against the sofa cushions, and you let out an extended whine. “Not yet,” Kenma said, his breathing heavy and his voice raspy. You watched him let his pants and boxers fall to the floor, his dick hard and aching like you’d never seen before. 

You whimpered again at the sight. “Kenma,” you whined, “I was so close.”

“I said, not yet,” Kenma said again. His cock slid through your folds, coating himself in your liquid arousal. “This pussy is mine. And I’ll do what I want with it.”

Kotaro Bokuto

When Bokuto gets jealous, he just gets unbelievably sad. 

He’s not usually a possessive guy.

But he just loves having all of your attention. 

So sometimes, when you’ve had your attention on another guy, he just needs to be reminded that you love him, too.

Was he fucking pouting? 

You’d been out with your boyfriend all day, seemingly having a good time. And then you struck up an extended conversation with the barista at your local coffee shop, someone you’d become very friendly with because of your frequent visits. He’s a little too cute for Bokuto’s comfort. 

Really, he wasn’t trying to be short with you. It was just a few comments that came out harsher than he intended. Some indifference here, some feigned boredom there. It was a recipe for disaster, you thought. And you couldn’t figure out why. You’d been having a perfectly normal day together. Actually, it was one of the better days, because there was no practice, no travel. Just the two of you, going out grocery shopping.

It wasn’t until after you got home that you realized what exactly was going on. When you were watching TV, Bokuto laid his head in your lap, his arms clinging to your waist, his face buried into your stomach. You laced your fingers into his hair and called him cute, and you saw the tiny, proud smile that he tried to hide by nestling further into your belly.

That was how you ended up here. 

You straddled Kotaro’s lap, his cock buried inside you to the hilt. He was sitting on the bed, his back propped up against the headboard. “Fuck, you feel so good,” you said, starting to move your hips in your need to relieve the pressure low in your belly. “You fit me so perfectly.”

Bokuto’s hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh on your hips. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you rode him, your pace slow and deliberate, as if making some sort of point. But fuck you were so gorgeous, your tits bouncing ever so slightly as you rode. Your hands perched on his shoulders to keep your balance. Your eyebrows pinched together. Your lip was caught between your teeth. Tiny little whimpers were escaping your lungs. Everything about you was so beautiful and gorgeous, and you were undeniably his and–

Oh, he thought. 

But the thought didn’t stop him, didn’t make him falter for even a second. His hips started rising to meet yours with every thrust, forcing you to ride him faster. “That’s it,” Kotaro said through his teeth, one of his strong hands sliding up your side and gripping your breast. “That’s it. Keep goin’, yeah? Keep fuckin’ yourself on my cock.”

Bokuto’s lewd ramblings made you dizzy as his dick hit just the right spot inside you and kept hitting it. You let out absolutely the most sinful moan as you got closer to the high you wanted, the one you needed him to give you. “Fuck, don’t stop… Need more,” you moaned, leaning your forehead against his. 

“I’m not stopping. You close?,” Bokuto says, still flexing his hips to fuck up into you, forcing his own pace over the two of you. You nod in answer. “Yeah, that’s it. Come for me. That’s my girl.”

Keiji Akaashi

Akaashi is an overthinker. 

So while he isn’t necessarily jealous or possessive, he definitely does overthink things a lot.

And he isn’t afraid to call you out when he thinks you’re being a little too friendly with someone else.

Not that he thinks you would ever leave him. He’s just going to remind you why.

Thinking back on it, you could see why Akaashi did what he did. 

You’d been out to dinner. Not just any dinner. Your anniversary dinner. He had made a reservation. You’d gotten dressed up. He was ready to wine and dine you all evening, to spoil you all night the way you deserved.

And then he showed up.

Some guy you’d gone on a couple of dates with before Keiji was even in the picture happened to see you from across the room. And the idiot had the audacity to come speak to you like Akaashi wasn’t even there. 

And he wasn’t angry at you. God, no. Akaashi let you handle things your way. You were short in your responses, and when you finally introduced Keiji as your boyfriend and mentioned it was your anniversary, the guy finally left the two of you alone for the night. 

It didn’t stop him from overthinking the entire evening though. 

If things had been the other way around, if one of his exes had shown up on your anniversary date, he would’ve told her she was ruining his date. He would’ve said she needed to learn to read the room. He would’ve kissed you right in front of her for good measure. 

He supposed that wasn’t what would’ve actually happened. And he supposed you probably just didn’t want to make a scene in the middle of the restaurant. So he wasn’t really angry with you. God, he was never angry with you, especially once you flashed him that pretty smile…

After dinner, he brought you out to the parking lot, supposedly to drive you home. But he smirked and guided you into the backseat, where he pulled you onto his lap and kissed you like you were the only oxygen in the entire world.

It wasn’t long until you were a tangle of limbs and tongues and teeth. Akaashi had pulled your dress and bra down, your pebbled nipple caught in his mouth. He had pulled his cock out of his pants and shoved it inside you, pushing your panties aside and thrusting into you in one fell swoop. 

God, you were pretty like this. You were pretty always, Keiji couldn’t deny that. But your face was heated from the pleasure. Your dress was hiked up around your waist. One of your tits was hanging out of your dress. And fuck you felt so good wrapped around him, your hands perched on his shoulders as you awkwardly rode him in the back seat of his car. 

“Keiji…” you whined, the tone of your voice betraying just how good it felt to have him inside you. “I’m… so… close…”

Akaashi only hummed his approval against your nipple. He wouldn’t dare stop now. Not when you were right on the cusp of coming on him in the middle of this parking garage. Fuck, you were so hot. He kept rolling his hips to meet yours as you rode him, his tongue delicately swirling around your nipple. 

What you didn’t see was Akaashi locking eyes with the man who interrupted your date earlier. Your eyes were screwed shut and your head was thrown back in as you reached your peak. So your ex knew it was you, but you never got a chance to see him. 

As the guy walked away, Akaashi let go of your nipple and replaced his mouth with his hand, his thumb circling your peak. “That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s my girl.”

[rafes-slut]

Thighs obsession

Pairing: Rafe cameron x girlfriend

Warnings: rafe being obsessed with his girls thighs

Summary: rafe is obsessed with your thighs and he has to touch them and kisse them at all given time to do so

────୨ৎ────

Rafe Cameron had an obsession—an all-consuming, insatiable fixation on his girlfriend’s thighs.

It wasn’t just a casual appreciation, not a passing glance or an occasional touch. No, it was something deeper, something primal. Rafe needed to have his hands on them, his mouth on them, his entire body pressed against them whenever he got the chance. It wasn’t just about the way they looked—though he’d be the first to say they were perfect. It was the way they felt beneath his touch, how soft they were, how warm they got when he left his mark.

And he made sure to do that often.

1. Movie Nights

It started innocently enough. At least, that’s what she told herself. She and Rafe were curled up on the couch, a random movie playing, one she’d barely been able to focus on for the past thirty minutes because Rafe’s head was resting comfortably on her lap.

His fingers traced absent patterns along the inside of her thigh, his touch featherlight, teasing. He wasn’t even watching the screen, completely enthralled with her instead. Every so often, he’d press a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the bare skin of her thighs, his lips dragging lazily over them.

“You’re not watching the movie,” she murmured, fingers threading through his hair.

“Don’t need to,” Rafe mumbled against her skin, his voice thick with something heavy. “Got a better view right here.”

He turned his head, biting down just enough to make her gasp. She could already feel the bruise forming, another mark he’d be satisfied to see when she changed later.

2. The Club

Rafe was possessive. Everyone knew that. And it became glaringly obvious whenever they were out in public.

She had worn a dress that night, one that barely skimmed mid-thigh, and Rafe had not been pleased. Not because he didn’t love the way she looked in it—God, he did—but because it meant everyone else would see what was his.

So he made sure to remind her.

The club was packed, loud, full of bodies pressed together, but Rafe didn’t care about any of them. His focus was on her, on the way she was sitting in their booth, one leg crossed over the other. His hand found its way to her knee, slowly dragging up her thigh, squeezing, kneading, making sure she felt every bit of his frustration.

“You like making me crazy, don’t you?” he muttered in her ear, lips brushing the sensitive spot below it.

She shivered but didn’t answer, only smirking when he sinked on his knees pressing a lingering kiss against her thigh.

3. Waking Up

Mornings with Rafe were dangerous.

Mostly because he was impossible to get out of bed, especially when his favorite pillow wasn’t the one on the bed but rather her thighs.

She had woken up to find him sprawled across her legs, arms wrapped around them, face pressed against her bare skin. His breathing was slow, steady, but as soon as she moved, his grip tightened.

“Stay,” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling against her.

“Rafe, we have to get up.”

“Don’t care.”

She sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, and that was when he finally looked up at her, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Unless you want to give me another reason to stay in bed…”

His teeth grazed the inside of her thigh, and she sucked in a breath.

Yeah, they weren’t getting up anytime soon.

4. Arguments and Apologies

Fighting with Rafe was inevitable. He had a temper, a stubbornness that rivaled hers, and sometimes things got heated.

But his apologies? They were just as intense.

He had her pinned against the wall, frustration still burning in his eyes, but his lips were on her thighs, moving over every inch of bare skin. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he pressed kiss after kiss, soothing over the marks his earlier grip had left.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured against her skin, nipping at her thigh just enough to make her whimper.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned, looking up at her with darkened eyes. “You love it,” he accused.

She did.

And she loved him, thigh obsession and all.

Rafe Cameron was relentless, but when it came to her thighs, he was absolutely insatiable.

[noellevanious]

its beyond fucking sad like. tumblr as a site. as a function. is great. it arguably still holds a pre-internet 3.0 concept up and keeps it alive (blogs as a community tool). It functions completely uniquely from other social media. parts that haven't been eroded away by idiot companies playing hot potato are still great (i can still look through all of my posts with my archive tool, or make a new blog theme entirely).

All that had to be done was Not Dip Their Toes into the Transphobic Pool. Which isn't a hard request. It's literally just "respect the people that want to be trans and be happy and tell people that are slinging harassment at them to Fuck off".

Sure, they also need to not let the site erode more and more into this ugly little amalgam of a barely functioning ad-ridden Twitter wannabe that requires at least 2 different mobile add-ons to even function properly. But like. I'd happily support them monetarily if they weren't the most cartoonishly Scummy site.

Like I'm still on twitter and it's a cesspool. But there at least it's funny that "Cis" is considered a word that Musk wants censored for "Spreading hate speech".

Here I have to confront the fact, every few days, that whoever moderates the site will happily either Delete Trans/POC blogs without hesitation, or, if we wanna be generous, nobody moderating the site Gives a Shit and just lets Transphobe/racist hategroups run rampant on the report system.

And don't fucking forget what happened to Avery/Rita! I don't want to spread word about her without her approval, but I will say, people have no fucking clue how bad things got for her after what happened, and the fact that she's put up such a strong face when she was literally in the "Public's" Eye as a Trans Woman the CEO of a website stalked and harassed even after he personally demanded all of her blogs be Permanently erased, is beyond the pale of what should be asked for her, or any trans or poc person.