#poc angel

[dreamdropsystem]

fragile. sensitive. please take good care of me,, - Cassidy

close up below

[feminine-gurl9]

[dreamdropsystemarchive]

hey

its me

im the problem its me

[germcore]

Magenta has a red streak in her hair it looks cute - Shane

[mi-olaaa]

Pretty girl.. (18+)

Fem!reader, softdom!ony, bf!ony, plussize!reader katoptronophilia, you alr know what it isss! Smut so no minors.. ofc. Enjoy!!

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

↳˗ˏˋ Aot m.list..ˊˎ˗ ☆

“Hey. Look at me mamas.” Ony murmurs into your ear, so sweetly. Too sweetly, especially for the way his dick is curving up into your gummy walls, but you listen, looking in the floor length mirror in front of you, watching how sinfully delicious he looks to you. “Onyy— fuck, i can’t” Your whines echo around the room, your head drooping slightly.

He grabs your face by your chin, gently peppering kisses, his grip on your hips tightening for a moment, as he pounds up into your dripping cunt. "Yes you can mama, this is your dick. Take it." You swear you were gonna die when he grinned so deviously at you in the mirror, the way he lowered those pretty eyes of his at you, the way his touch has you writhing under him.

You’ve been sitting on his lap in front of this damned mirror for almost an hour, looking at him bouncing you up and down by the hips, orgasm after orgasm, and he wants you to keep looking at him?

Ony's tip was reaching spots in you that you didn't even know existed, brushing up against your cervix, eliciting moans and pants from your mouth. He nips at your neck, hand leaving your chin, snaking around to your clit, rubbing circles around the puffy folds. "Baby, Ony— ouhhh please" You could feel his slender fingers on your clit, massaging the sensitive bundle.

"Please what? Use your voice pretty girl." He looks up at the mirror, watching his cock piston in and out of your pussy, and all you could do is drool. “Haah— stop teasing me please.” The moan that ripped out of your throat was pure bliss, and before you could even say it, you were squirting over his digits, some of your arousal even splattering on the bottom of the mirror in front of you two.

The clear, warm arousal of yours had him fucking into you like a madman. Ony’s grip on your hip tightened as you spasm slightly, his fingers dripping. While he had your attention on him in the mirror, he brought his fingers to his lips, licking the taste of you off of them. “Taste so fucking good mamas, need to eat you next time.” And again with that sexy gaze of his, looking directly at you this time as you nod lazily.

The way he was digging into you so deep had you damn-near screaming his name, pussy squeezing his length like a vice, milking him for all he’s got.

“Mhm mhm baby. Look at me, do what I told you, look at me.” He croons into your ear, the hand that’s not already holding you by your hips and slamming you down onto him, wraps around your torso, massaging your lovely breasts, as you come undone again.

Your moans come out wantonly, and you’re nothing but a drooling, sticky mess for him, it almost makes him wonder if it’s because you can everything in mirror? Doesn’t matter, with the way he’s filling you so good and fucking you so fast, you’re seeing stars and panting.

It’s interesting though, the way your face contorts in pleasure in the mirror to his ministrations, the way your thick thighs jiggle when you bounce on him, the tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks as your back arches so sinfully, it’s too much.

And all it does is make Ony groan, and lean down to capture one of your tears on his tongue. “C’mon mama, just one more. You think you can do that f’me?” He speaks, trying so sweetly to coax another orgasm out of you.

It takes almost all the power you have to find an orgasm in you, but you don’t have to do much with how attentive he is to you and your needs. Massaging and toying with your nipples, whispering praise in your ears, pushing all your buttons, just to see his pretty girl cum again, and you do. You come absolutely undone on his dick, a pretty, creamy white ring of your arousal at the base of his cock, all the while, he slows his thrusts, having cum into you more times than you both could count.

By the time the both of you have came to your senses, he finally pulls out of your pretty, fat pussy. Watching as dribbles of cum spill out of you, kissing your neck once again. “See, I knew you had one more in you, good job mama.” He murmurs into your panting skin, side-eyeing you in the mirror, and how you tremble slightly, looking like a deer in headlights, massaging your sore thighs, admiring the fat of them.

Too tired to do anything but nod and stick a lazy thumb up, you slump on his chest, relishing in how warm he is. Ony doesn’t bother with clean up right now, he’ll do it sometime later, all he currently cares about is getting you into bed, especially with the way you just fell asleep on him. He picks you up from the small of your back and the back of your knees, bridal-style, before getting off the edge of the bed.

Flicking off the main lights in your shared bedroom, leaving the ambient lights on, he climbs into bed, setting you down and covering you up, holding you as you both wind down, petting your head softly, and smoking a blunt before going to bed.

That dick really fucked his pretty girl to sleep.

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

Authors note: heyyyy 🤭 ion have nun to say for once.. so imma shut my fat ass up. 🙃 LOVE Y’ALL 🫶🏾

[iron-sparrow]

more on the Los Angeles fires

Seems that one of my concerns as a local ⸺ that being the focus of global/national media coverage has been primarily on the Pacific Palisades fire ⸺ is unfortunately very valid. So I am deviating once more from my fandom posts to bring just a few more crumbs of awareness to the Eaton fire, which continues to ravage Altadena, a beautiful and historically Black community overlooking Pasadena.

When I previously stated I've found national news coverage lacking, I meant exactly this; online searches about the fires in and around Los Angeles bring up so many headlines concerning celebrity homes and other tabloid crap like that. Photos of charred luxury mid-century mansions and the burning Hollywood sign (fake btw) get more clicks, I'd wager, but I implore you all to look beyond that and focus on the communities and victims who have and will continue to be impacted the most.

If you have the ability to donate or just want to spread more awareness, a GoFundMe directory for displaced Black families is available. The list was compiled and continues to be updated by AFROPUNK, or @/afropunk on socials.

You may find more donation links and resources in a previous post.

[punkrock-confetti]

Do people not know that blades from rescue bots is canonically Indian and not white or is that a secret somehow…

[spiritually-a-deer]

shoutout to all the gorgeous gorgeous poc coquettes ⁠♡ y'all are literal angels and really deserve sm more representation ♡♡

[mysharona1987]

[rosesgrownbytheseaside]

gentle reminder that there is no standard for coquette. you don’t need Dior lip oil or 1956 authentic pearls. You don’t need miu miu or Chanel.

You don’t need to have long curls or natural hair, you don’t need clear skin and no tattoos. You don’t need to constantly wearing pink, you don’t need to wear heels or bows. You don’t need a button nose or blue eyes.

Coquette is associated with feminine aesthetics and girlhood. Anyone can define that in their own words. To someone else, coquette can be a black sundress and sneakers. It can be short hair and a tattoo sleeve. It can be a face full of piercings. It can be a plus sized body. It can be any size, skin tone, gender, or person.

There is no standard to coquette. It is what you define as. Be messy, be cringy, be whatever. Just sick of especially tiktokers trying to push the standard that you must look, behave, and be able to have/afford certain items to qualify.

Coquette is whatever the hell you want it to be. 🎀

[blythe-dollz]

they hate when you serve sweet innocent deer

[dreamdropsystem]

doodle of myself. - ◇ Pure ◇

[dreamdropsystemarchive]

Dice and Molly fused a couple month ago into Hunter/Spinner.. there they are

[whenmemorydies]

The legerdemain of racism: demands for season 4 of The Bear

Alright folks, this one has been sitting on my chest like a fucking elephant for the last week. It's a long one (when are they not, I'm sorry lol), so if you'd give me the grace of your time and eyeballs, lets have a cup of tea and do this.

Legerdemain: the magic trick

In 3x07 Legacy, we're introduced to the concept of legerdemain (French for 'sleight of hand') in the form of notes and drawings, etched into one of Carmy's notebooks:

Other possible definitions of legerdemain include:

'the skilful hiding of the truth in order to trick people';

'skilful tricks done as part of a performance'; and

'cunning, deception or trickery.'

There have been important discussions on this app about the concept of legerdemain in The Bear, and how Storer, Calo and co. appear to have peppered season 3 of the show with references to their own use of the concept in breaking the fourth wall, to comment on filmmaking, on cooking, magic, and perhaps, using the legerdemain of season 3 as a distraction while they take a dish their industry further in season 4.

Have a look at the below metas for some helpful background to what I'm talking about here.

Fourth Wall/Magic Trick Metas for The Bear:

@brokenwinebox's Fourth Wall (being broken)

@brokenwinebox's The New Paradigm

@thoughtfulchaos773's meta on the fourth wall

@currymanganese's Richie's journey is not over (on Richie being the author avatar for creator Chris Storer

@currymanganese's masterful consolidation of fourth wall analysis and their speculative analysis on the role of the Faks

@ago0112's analysis of the blurring of fact and fiction during the Ever funeral service

My post Richie and the viewer.

See also this beautiful reblog thread discussing how the creative decisions involved in season 3 have elicited sympathetic responses in the audience that mimic the emotions of the characters on The Bear, possibly contributing to a division in how this season has been received generally. Shout out to @moodyeucalyptus, @vacationship and @greekyogurttragedy for this generous and thoughtful discussion. And this insightful breakdown on the treatment of characters of colour this season between @hwere and @mxmajor + this discussion on the sidelining of Black grief this season with @melfinawins , @suellenalmeida and @moodyeucalyptus.

An ache: POC on The Bear

After I finished my first watch of season 3 (which was an ill-advised binge while recovering from the flu), I felt like I had sat through a year's worth of television. This was purely for the fact that I was emotionally SPENT by the end of it (still didn't stop me from wanting to rewatch the entire thing immediately - I didn't, thank god. Shout out to my nervous system for threatening a revolt and stopping me). Anyway this is to say, I had to really stretch my memory to recall a lot of the content in this season's early episodes. One that stood out though was the beginning of 3x02 Next.

3x02 begins (hilariously) with Syd and Papa Adamu fighting for bathroom time and then Syd leaving the apartment for work. As Syd makes her way to work, we hear Eddie Vedder's cover of "Save It For Later" playing, which @brokenwinebox has referred to in the context of the fourth wall.

We then leave Syd but get a tour of early morning Chicago with documentary-style footage of an array of workers beginning their daily grinds, preparing the city for its day. These workers are diverse in lots of ways including cultural background and employment, running the gamut from food service, hospitality, newspapers (shout out to the Chicago Tribune which will give The Bear its first review in 3x10 Forever), sports, etc.

What is striking about this beautiful opening to 3x02 are the lyrics of "Save It For Later" that are playing as we see all these hardworking people pass by on our screens:

We hear Eddie Vedder sing, "run away, run away and let me down" over and over while diverse, working class folks wave at us, the viewers. And if I'm being honest, in relation to people of colour and Black folks being represented on this show, this is a good chunk of what season 3 ended up feeling like for me (and undoubtedly, for a lot of other BIPOC viewers too): racialised people waving, hailing the creators behind this show, and screaming DON'T LET US DOWN, DON'T RUN AWAY FROM US. WHY THE FUCK SHOULD WE SUFFER LIKE THIS?

And then we get the remainder of 3x02, which myself and others have described as having two too many Faks and one too many unnecessary conversations about Claire in lieu of the attention that should have been paid to Marcus and the loss of his mother. Where the fuck was Chester, who looked after Mrs Brooks when Marcus was in Copenhagen? I needed to see their sweet friendship in that episode and was actually blown away when we got none of it.

And things got progressively worse from there.

In this pre-season 3 meta on The Bear, I spoke about how part of the tragedy of Carmy's fridge spiral was the (white) saviourism of his speech to Tina ("I failed you guys") which rubbed me all sorts of wrong ways given that the largely POC crew rallied and turned Friends and Family into a success while our man was stuck in the fridge. White saviourism can also be described as the trope of the 'white man's burden' (itself named after the Rudyard Kipling poem written as a justification for European imperial conquest of the Global South).

I'm not saying that the white saviourism here is intentional or that Carmy would even identify his behaviour in this way (unconscious biases are just that - unconscious - after all). But Carm is the product of the fine dining industry which is predominantly white. His access to those fancy kitchens was predicated on the fact that his family owned their own restaurant to begin with. That access would have been dictated by privilege and power which are inextricably tied to things like race, class, gender, ability etc. Marcus got his start in the culinary world via McDonalds while his single mum busted her ass looking after him. As far as we know, Syd had no connections in the culinary world before she embarked on her career and she's got the imposter syndrome to show for it (this is part of why I will fight to the death anyone who slags her off, she's too precious to me). 3x06 Napkins gave us huge insight into Tina's journey to fine dining which was also not easy. Likewise in 3x07 Legacy when Ted Fak (?!) gives Sweeps the latter's "I know who you are" moment. I'm still waiting on the origin stories of Ebra, Manny and Angel.

These differences between Carmy's journey and those of the characters of colour on this show matter and it was heartening to me to know that the writers of The Bear thought they mattered enough that they made them canon. These stories make it clear that of all of the people at The Beef and then The Bear, Carmy is likely the person with the most race and class privilege. And sometimes, the man acted like it! (e.g. Carmy disregarding all the work put in by the largely POC crew after he got locked in the walk in, dismissing their victorious service led by Sydney and Richie in 2x10 when he talked to Tina. He'd do this again when he spoke to Sydney in 3x01 and she has to remind him that everyone helped get the restaurant through Friends and Family).

Let me be clear: I wasn't and am still not mad that Carmy becomes an entitled, privileged little shit when the shit hits the fan. This is all in character for him (he's been this way since season 1 folks - recall 1x07 The Review).

I even expected the white saviourism to shoot itself into the stratosphere in season 3 while Carmy entered Michelin Mode. Because that is how this white man has been trained (in a largely white industry) to operate in a high pressure culinary setting that prioritises the reputation (and the glory) of the EC at the cost of everyone under them. Add to that Carmy's clear trauma, his learned behaviours from dealing with an abusive mother and absent father, his discordant relationships with his parentified siblings, his psychotic ex-boss, his grief...I was certain the man was going to be a hot, dysregulated mess for at least part of this season. And he was.

BUT...

What I wasn't counting on was the overabundance of the Faks (I am still not over John fucking Cena taking up screen time on this show OR that it was Neil and Ted at the end of 3x08 Ice Chips, visiting Nat and Donna after Nat's delivery), and the overabundance of Claire content, while we had the season running away from our characters of colour.

Sydney spent most of season 3 mediating between two dysregulated white guys (Richie and Carmy - though her character didn't do this without a fight, a la "I'm not your fucking babysitter" in 3x03 Doors) and being subjected to Carmy's tirades all through service and prep, without much exposition at all about her and her motivations for staying at The Bear (we get a glimpse - a beautiful one that absolutely devastated me - just before her panic attack in the season's last episode 3x10). We even had Marcus in 3x03 Doors (this particular choice PISSED me all the way off given the absolute lack of care given to this character and the passing of his mother in the same episode) pushing both the Magical Negro trope and the white man's burden trope as he tells Carmy to "take us there Bear": a plea to Carm to make the restaurant work for the crew's sake. In 3x05 Children, we get Carmy treating Ebra like an actual Magical Negro in one of the few exchanges between the two of them this season, when Carm asks Ebra, "Am I fucking this up?" about, well - in a moment I'd like to think was fourth wall knocking - this entire season/the operation of the restaurant.

@kensatou in this brilliant gifset (of one of the funniest bits this season) also points out how the restaurant is contributing to the gentrification of its neighbourhood, further driving the restaurant and us viewers towards an increasing whitening of the world of The Bear.

Then we've got one of the most frustrating aspects of racism and misogynoir associated with this show and a seemingly bewildering response from the cast and crew in tackling it: the INSISTENCE at different points in time by some fans of the show, the cast and the crew that Sydney and Carmy are platonic and nothing more. All the cues and subtext in the show itself, be damned. I won't go through all the arguments as to why this is bullshit but will say, many folks have talked about how many m/f platonic relationships there are on this show (Richie/Tina, Richie/Sydney, Marcus/Sydney, Marcus/Tina, Richie/Nat, Michael/Tina, Carmy/every other woman apart from Sydney etc). There’s no shortage so why are folks so pressed with Sydcarmy? *cough* anti-black racism and misogynoir is why *cough*. Anyway...there's been LOTS of exposition about this on Tumblr by folks much more well-versed in this discourse than me. Just search the #sydcarmy hashtag for that brilliance.

Some (including me) have wondered why the cast and creators don’t directly address the obvious racism behind calls for Sydcarmy to only be platonic, or at the very least, just tell people calling for this to watch the damn show and see. Instead Sydcarmies were met with official denials of any kind of romantic relationship between Syd and Carmy right up until premiere of season 3. I know I personally felt that the insistence by the cast and crew to actively deny any romantic relationship between a Black woman and white man on this show was frustrating to the n'th degree. But then I jumped on Tumblr, as we do, and fell into the fourth wall, magic trick and legerdemain discussions and I got thoughts...if you're still here, I promise I'm almost at my point lol, stick with me.

Racism as the sleight of hand, white supremacy as the deception

The singular Toni Morrison famously described racism as a distraction (tres legerdemain-ish, n'est-ce pas?):

"The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of that is necessary. There will always be one more thing."

The above quote is from a talk that Ms Morrison gave at Portland State University in 1975 entitled "Black Studies Center Public Dialogue, Part 2". You can listen to the talk in full here. A transcript of the talk can also be found here.

What if, the racism driving the anti-Sydcarmy antagonism and the cast and crew not addressing it or letting it fester is the point. Racism doing what racism does: distracting and deceiving. What if the pay off from this sleight of hand is that in season 4 we get what we know is destined to happen? An outcome based on the cues and clues that are littered throughout this show for anyone with a modicum of media literacy and without the blinders that a racist worldview grants: Sydcarmy.

And what about what Morrison said next in her talk,

"The distraction is no different than bombing Cambodia to keep the Northern Vietnamese from making their great push. And since not history, not anthropology, not social sciences seem capable in a strong and consistent way to grapple with that problem, it may very well be left to the artists to do it.

For art focuses on the single grain of rice, the tree-shaped scar, and the names of people, not only the number that arrived. And to the artist one can only say, not to be confused, [sigh] not to be confused.

You don’t waste your energy fighting the fever; you must only fight the disease. And the disease is not racism. It is greed and the struggle for power.

And I urge you to be careful. For there is a deadly prison: the prison that is erected when one spends one’s life fighting phantoms, concentrating on myths, and explaining over and over to the conqueror your language, your lifestyle, your history, your habits.

And you don’t have to do it anymore. You can go ahead and talk straight to me."

Now Morrison was speaking directly to Black artists, creators and thinkers when she gave the above talk but I would argue that all creators who are telling stories that feature people of colour, or people from communities that have been systemically discriminated against for whatever reason, have a responsibility to heed her call. Speak DIRECTLY to the communities you are representing in your work. And if you are doing your damn job properly in 2024, that is ALL OF US, in some shape or form. What Morrison is asking folks to do, is de-center the white gaze.

Ok so bearing in mind the above, back to the fourth wall, the magic trick and an invitation to believe. Recall this screenshot from 3x09 Apologies:

@currymanganese has theorised that Richie is the author-avatar for The Bear creator Chris Storer. Storer is partners with Gillian Jacobs (the actress who plays Tiff, also pictured here) in real life. In essence, we are looking at some version of "mom and dad" of this show (ideally, we'd have an avatar for showrunner Joanna Calo in here instead, but I'm working with what I got). After Tiff says "Well, I know my demographic" in the above scene, Richie/Storer stays looking at the camera long after Tiff turns away from it.

Let’s be real, in any other circumstance, if two white people were looking me dead in the eye and saying they knew who their demographic was, I’d be worried lmao. I'm still worried because for a white showrunner like Storer to even begin to understand just HOW paradigm shifting what I'm going to suggest below is, would be huge.

But...what if the demographic is us? The viewership that was drawn into this show by the unapologetic and unambiguous representation of Black characters and characters of colour in season 1 of The Bear? A show that had Sydney making stew and plantains for the family meal from the jump in 1x01 System, that had Tina calling Carmy a puta while next second claiming no Inglés, that had Marcus, Sydney and Sweeps code switching to AAVE with no explanation to anyone; that had Marcus lovingly applying Palmer's Cocoa Butter (iykyk) to his bedridden mother's hands? A viewership that includes many people of colour who have been so frustrated by the sidelining of the characters of colour this season because of the show's focus on Carmy, the fucking Faks and Claire?

Now there has been some analysis on the purpose of the Faks and Claire which has lightened my heart somewhat. But the treatment of racialised characters this season still doesn't sit completely square with me.

Do Storer and Calo have what it takes to do what Toni Morrison commanded and not be confused? To go ahead and talk straight to us in season 4?

Will they make things square like Carmy alluded to in his description of what he wants his legacy to be, in 3x07?

As much as I went into my issues with this season here in this post, I am hopeful. I love this show. I love how it deals with grief. I love the symbolism and the quality of the writing, I love the acting, I love the cinematography. I love the music. This thing is a veritable feast. And I know it can be yet greater, if it heeds Ms Morrison's demand.

There's glimpses that its doing this and hopefully, will take the thread and run with it head-first into season 4: at the end of 3x10 Forever who is it that brings all of us viewers back to the idea of chosen family (what the showrunners have said the show is actually about)? Which character is seen remembering the original crew of the Beef and their trajectory to the end of season 3? Who has refused to run away from them all throughout the show (and when she did, she came back)? Whose arrival at The Beef kickstarts this whole ride in the first place? Its the CDC of The Bear: Sydney Adamu.

If Storer and Calo want to take this legerdemain shit seriously, then season 4 needs to centre Sydney as the main protagonist. It needs to return to its characters of colour. It needs to paradigm shift the fuck out of this show.

We already got Ayo directing the season premiere for season 4. I am cautiously holding out hope for more of the same next season. Listen, I know I am asking for folks to suspend maybe everything we know about systemic racism in the entertainment industry here lol. But if this season has been about the suspension of belief and distraction, maybe Ms Morrison’s words are more prescient than ever. And if these showrunners are committing to the bit as hard as I think they are, maybe the final season of The Bear is going to be its best yet.

[mi-olaaa]

Sweet like honey.. (18+)

Fem!reader, softdom!kento, oral (fem + male receiving), shibari 🤭, and a lil bit of honey 😓, black plussize reader as always! Enjoy pookies!!

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

↳˗ˏˋ Jjk m.list..ˊˎ˗ ☆

“Suprise! Slip my panties to the side.”

Nanami Kento was a very particular man, from the way he went about his day, all the way down to how he wears his ties. And that’s why, you— his ever so precious girlfriend were in your current predicament..

You see, Kento loves coming home to you. On time of course. So on the days he has to do overtime, he seeks out a different routine to have some semblance of control. He gets home worked up, needing to wind down, and here’s where you come in, all sweet like honey.

How could you deny Kento’s whims when he asks so politely to frogtie you, one of his favorite styles, arms behind your back, legs open and tied to your thighs by your ankles, looking oh so pretty and delectable, open and ready to cater to his whims. “Ken—” he cuts you off with a needy kiss, slender fingers finding their way to your pretty pussy, effectively shutting you up.

“C’mon love, you wanted to be a good girl, right? So be an angel and hush, let me worship you.” All you can hear is your muffled whines, and the loud squelching noises echoing off the walls with Kento’s every move of his fingers. He had those sinful brown eyes of his staring into your soul— as if to challenge you to do otherwise.

You don’t even catch it, too caught up with the way his other hand is gripping your hair by surprise, earning a wrung out moan from your lips and a smile from his. You stay quiet and let him tend to you, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you, just from his fingers, but you know it’s not over.

He spreads your legs as wide as he can while you’re tied up, pushing your back to the bed, hair tousled and in his face, and all you can think of is how much more sexy can this man get?? I mean his glasses are long gone, dress shirt partially unbuttoned, tie loose and slacks strained against his dick, and it doesn’t help that he’s eyeing you down like you’re his last meal.

Peppering kisses down those gorgeous, plump thighs of yours, taking extra time to kiss along stretch marks and cellulite, whispering sweet nothings before abruptly getting up, leaving you confused, but hushing you before you could speak. “I’m just grabbing some things love, don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you.” Kento rolled up his sleeves, fumbling with some things on the nightstand before returning.

In his hands he had a bottle of honey, the same one that you left on the nightstand this morning when you had a cup of tea earlier, and the way your face turned sour had him laughing as he sat back down on the bed. “Kento— what the hell do you plan on doing with a bottle of honey?” And he just wouldn’t stop laughing to even answer, all you got was another hush, and a look from him that had you dripping on the sheets.

“Just trying something i’ve been wanting to do, you’ll like it.” Is Kento’s only response, you start to open your mouth again, abruptly stopping when you feel the cool, golden liquid being drizzled over your thighs. The soft click of the cap closing and a whispered “itadakimasu..” unfortunately was your only warning of how feral your boyfriend was about to get. All of the earlier shit was just to ease you into it, get you relaxed, this? This was him blowing steam.



The noises you made as Kento all but devoured your thighs, biting and lapping at them just to see them jiggle, were funny to him apparently, he couldn’t stop grinning. All he was doing was cleaning up his mess, lapping up the honey, and you already looked ruined, heaving and writhing under his ministrations. When he finally got to your pussy, his eyes were yet again eager and burning into your soul.

You wiggled and whined to your heart’s content, but that wasn’t deterring Kento, you were tied up and his to play with, his to dive face-first into, his to tease and touch, ‘till your nipples were sore and achy. Kento made it seem like you must’ve been sweeter than the honey he just licked off you, his tongue was just berating your poor pussy, lips suckling on your clit, making the nastiest slurping sounds ever to grace your ears.

Every kiss, bite, lap and groan had shivers going up your spine, setting your body on fire with the need to cum on his face. You couldn’t take much more, with how he was sweet talking you, kind words and praise falling from his lips, while his actions were downright dirty. It confused you, in the best way possible, but it wasn’t until he stilled for a moment, groaning into your pussy, the sound muffled— that you came to the conclusion that he came in his pants.

“Shit. I’m sorry love—” He couldn’t even get the words out, you so undeniably turned on by the fact that you haven’t even touched this man yet, how you may be tied up, but he’s on his knees for you, let all hell loose. With a wrung-out cry of his name, you came, squirting and creaming on his beautiful face to high hell, soaking the front of his dress shirt, shit, you managed to get some in his hair, neither of you even knew you had it in you to do some shit like that.

Kento was at loss for words, just staring down at you, breathing heavily. “You just-?” “Yeah..” You sounded embarrassed almost, and he couldn’t have his pretty girl thinking she had to be ashamed of anything she does, he pulled you up to sit on your legs again, back in your starting position but moving you to the floor, thighs wet and glistening, pretty pussy throbbing.

Kento’s need to dig in your guts just got overridden by a new need to reward you, give you a small taste of what he’s been eating on all afternoon. “Open your mouth love, ‘wanna give you a taste too.” Without a second thought you open your mouth, he tilts your chin up, keeping eye contact with you as he unzips his ruined pants, and slides his dick out of his boxers. But before even moving in your direction, you can hear the click of a cap, and see honey being drizzled on his dick.

You’re stuck in a trance of some sorts, watching the honey slide down his dick, and onto the angry, mushroom tip. It slides down slowly, coating the entire length in its sticky sweetness, before you finally make your way to the tip, giving it a soft kiss that has Kento shuddering as you take him in. Your tastebuds are immediately met with the sickeningly sweet flavor of the honey, mixed with his dripping precum.

He bobs your head gently up and down his length, watching you with squinted eyes, taking in every veiny inch, groaning and reaching up to card his hand in your hair, jaw slacked so wide, he’s drooling.

But you kept going, growing addicted to how the honey and precum mixed in your tastebuds to produce the most wonderful flavor, sweet, with a perfect dash of salt. With the noise echoing off the walls, you were sure the neighbors heard, and if they had an issue, they could watch for all you cared. You were sucking the soul outta Kento, tongue teasing the tip, sliding down every vein.

And he loved it. Within a record time of 4 minutes, his knees were buckling and he was giving you something else to taste on your tongue other than honey.

You eased off his dick with a teasing ‘pop’, licking your lips, content to swallow his kids— and he just looked at you like he still needed to release steam, so you let him pick you up like a ragdoll again, and let him put you back on the bed, on your stomach, still tied up to high hell. Your dripping pussy, and glistening thighs were presented to him, and it’s the rope holding you in place, tightly bound but not suffocating, only emphasizing how good you looked on display, trembling all for him.

Thighs bursting out the seams of the ropes, but his excellent craftsmanship kept you bound, and spread open as much as you could muster while tied. Kento kneeled for a moment behind you, enjoying the sight of your pussy, the bright, scarlet red rope bound to you, the slight pudge of your stomach touching the sheets, even the way your ass was up and out, stretch marks adorning his favorite parts of you.

You of course, got impatient, wiggling to catch his attention, it never left you, but he was savoring the look of you. “Ken? C’mon..” He got up, delivering a harsh slap on the globes of your ass, you couldn’t see his face, but you just knew it was probably tore up. “Patience love, let me worship you.” Regardless of his words, Kento gently slid into your pretty, dripping cunt, meeting little resistance due to how long your foreplay was this time.

And as soon as he slid in, he was gone, taken over with the need to remind his pretty girl that while he may be a soft dom, it’s not because he can’t be rough. The bed creaks and groans at his pace, the speed of him driving into your pussy, just to hear her talk back to him, was a complete 180 to how you two were just teasing each other.

“Mhmn— Ken..” You gasp out, hands gripping onto nothing but pure air, partially because you forgot they’re tied behind your back. “Shh, just take it, you’ve been doing so well love, don’t make me take it back.” Kento said through a clenched jaw, watching with each thrust how it seems your whole body just.. jiggled. It had him going harder, kissing your cervix almost, just see your ass move just one more time.

Your eyes were rolled back, and Kento knew it by how your toes curled and how your pussy kept squeezing him tight, he knew you were gonna cum soon before you even knew it yourself. And of course he had to help his pretty girl out, snaking a hand under you to rub at your swollen clit, biting and kissing at your neck, encouraging you to cum.

“Just one more baby? How’re you feeling?” Whispering oh so sweetly into your ear, biting the shell of it teasingly, hand holding onto your hip for leverage and the other’s fingers still massaging your weeping clit. All you can muster to respond is a nod to Kento’s question, the foreplay and rough pace finally catching up to you, pussy aching with the need for your boyfriend to just fuck you senseless.

Kento works his ass off, giving you the meanest strokes, kissing and toying with you, and it all pays off, because not too long after settling on a pace that has your pussy damn near red and raw, you’re hurdling headfirst into your 4th orgasm of the evening, tears pricking at your eyes from how sensitive you’re getting. Kento’s fingers slow their pace on your clit before stopping entirely, so do his strokes.

He pulls out of you, his hand moving up and down his glistening dick as he cums, shooting it down your back, a small whisper of your name leaving his lips. Kento takes a moment to admire you, before you break him out of his focus with your wiggling, and pleads to be untied. He doesn’t even untie you, swiftly cutting the rope from you for a faster removal.

You lie flat on the bed as Kento massages your legs and wrists, figuring you had to be sore from the position, peppering kisses down your back, “You did so well angel, took me like a champ love.” He murmurs into your neck, kissing it.

“Yeah? That doesn’t help the fact that I’m all sticky and need a bath now.” You pout.

“We’ll wash up love, but i couldn’t help myself, you were sweet like honey.”

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

Authors note: life was kicking my ASS 😭 I’m glad I can finally start back uploading pookies ☺️ enjoy this— hopefully I haven’t lost my ability to write.. 💀 (y’all were supposed to get some baby oil action w/ this, but I’ve since then taken everything to do with baby oil out of my fics AND drafts with current events..) I hope this isn’t too long or short or like really weirdly worded either, had to rewrite almost 75% because I deleted some by accident… *insert crickets* Enjoy!!

[visibun]

Got up early enough to get that last photo that I didn't have time for yesterday. This is now my most favorite picture of myself by a long shot. [She/They]