#which that in and of itself is amazing. that what has already been 'good enough' can still be improved upon

[valentinedrifter]

Days with Somi: Expression

male reader x Jeon Somi

~13.9k words

A/N: I apologize if the plot (there's plot?) doesn't make sense because all the recent Somi pics got me dented in the head.

Thanks to @suchsweetstories for the beta read!

Enjoy.

Jeon Somi loves having sex. 

Specifically, having sex with you.

You call it her ‘love language’. Her way to shower you with affection. Which you have to admit, for someone like Somi, checks off all of the boxes.

Receiving Gifts? Being able to fuck her on the daily is a gift itself. Especially when she offers up anal.

Physical Touch? You can spank her ass and grope her tits and she’d tell you to do it again. She even encourages you to do it as much as you want.

Quality Time? She’d fuck you anywhere if she gets in the mood. Your apartment, her apartment, the fast food restaurant’s bathroom, your car in a public parking lot. The post-sex cuddles you have with her are amazing too.

Words of Affirmation? Her screams of, quote: “Fuck, yes, more–” are enough to push you to go harder. She’s also expressing her appreciation of how good you’re pounding her pussy.

Acts of Service? Either she wakes you up with a blowjob or you wake her up by eating her out. It usually ends with one–sometimes both–of you being late to work. It’s one hell of an alarm clock though.

Sex has become a pivotal portion of your life ever since you started seeing her for a couple of months now. And it’s not like you’d ever say no to doing it with Somi. You made that mistake once, and while it was…an experience, you’d rather not have to call in sick because she fucked you too hard. 

It’s the fact that sex is the only consistent way she shows her feelings for you that makes it feel a little bit superficial. 

She comes over to your apartment angry at how the latest batch of makeup she made was shipped to the wrong address? She won’t ask you for comforting hugs, she’ll tell you to push her legs over her head and dick her down till she can’t walk. 

You get frustrated over the new Return-To-Office policy your job announced because the office is an hour drive? She won’t say a word, just pull your pants down and squeeze your cock in between her tits.

You won’t lie, sex with Somi is Grade A, Top Tier, Perfection. You’ll never get tired of her body, her moans, her willingness to do anything. What you are tired of, is the absence of romance—for the lack of a better term—in your life.

Not in the physical way, no, she already gives you enough to last a lifetime. It’s that the emotional link that you feel was starting to degrade.

You want to be able to do the whole “Netflix and Chill” bit without it ending in the couch getting wet. To be embracing her as you wake up in the mornings. To spend the day doing nothing together.

And it wasn’t like she doesn’t say the words that you’ve been wanting to hear, because she does. She just says it with ‘your cock’ instead of ‘you’ a lot more than you’d like.

You’re starting to think that this is becoming more casual, something to scratch her itch, some sort of fuck buddy set up instead of as a couple. Maybe when this relationship with Somi was still at its infancy would you consider that type of deal–purely physical–because that’s what this was built on.

Thinking back, it’s how it’s always been. Even as she first approached you at the bar you two met. She ordered what you had—a shot of whiskey—and started off with small talk. You two got to know each other, and you may have had a few too many shots that made your lips a bit looser. 

That’s why when you drunkenly tell her that she was hot in that white crop top she was wearing, and that you wanted to lick the alcohol off her stomach, all she does is smirk. The next words she said sobered you straight up.

“When and where?”

And that’s how you ended up playing body shots inside her apartment. It started off innocent enough. Well, as innocent as playing the sort of game that inevitably gets you both drunk and fucked.

You two kept in touch after that night. After a week or so of trading messages and a few racy pics from her, she invited you to meet up again.

This is when the cycle began. One of you invites the other to meet up for something, you do said something, and you two end up doing each other after. Then it happens again.

Somewhere along the way feelings were aired out and you two started to see each other more seriously. At the same time, railing Somi into any nearby surface became a 9-5 job.

Yet you can’t help but want more than that.

To be honest, you might be overthinking things. Maybe you should have sat her down, talked like two responsible adults, and figured out whatever’s happening between you two—really just you—before it got out of hand.

So you do the responsible move. Ask a friend for advice. 

Although, you might have asked the wrong person.

“You’re overthinking things.” Aeri deadpans, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m not overthinking it.” You deny. “I’m just…stressing about it.”

“That’s the same thing.” 

“Look, are you gonna help out or not?” You scowl, crossing your arms.

“Fine. But you’re presenting to the boss next week.” She sighs, dramatically placing her drink down on the table. “Here’s what you do–”

The next hour becomes a weird lecture consisting of Aeri laying out an entire thesis of plans on how to woo Somi with your heart and not with your dick. You needed to note it all down just to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

After some planning and finalizing some dates, you settled on a beach trip. It was ordinary, casual, relaxing. A chance to have fun without too many shenanigans involved. You can even take her to the nearby festival that’s going to take place for some celebration too.

Of course, the trip being with Somi makes that a pipe dream. 

Day one was mostly spent on actually getting to the venue, getting a feel for the area, and checking into the hotel. 

And everything was going great. It was all going according to plan. After you take a break from all the driving you’ve done you told yourself that you’d take her out to see the tourist spots.

Said break is how you two end up at the hotel’s restaurant, enjoying the cuisine of different nations, the aroma of delicacies, the sound of the piano fluttering across the air. You had to veto room service because no breaks and no eating would happen otherwise.

“Oh my God.” The clattering of metal hitting ceramic fills the table. “I’m so full.” Somi’s slouched over the chair, hand over her stomach as you finish up your own plate.

“You did get two plates worth of dumplings.” You shrug, stabbing your fork down on a leaf. “And the crab too.”

“But it was so good.” She’s justifying, arms out across the table. “I kinda want more.”

“And make your ass explode all over the bathroom later?”

“Fuck you.” She laughs, throwing a napkin at your face. “Like you won’t be doing that later.”

“O–kay.” You exasperate, gesturing down. “Not in front of my salad.”

“Come on.” Her chin’s resting on a hand, tilting her head as she smirks. And it’s that smirk, that fucking smirk, that always precedes your downfall to the drug that is Somi. 

Ruining her is usually an eventuality, especially given that you’re going to be alone with her for the next few days. But this time, you will not falter. You remind yourself why you’re here, what the point of this entire trip was about. That this is to show her how much you–

Oh Goddamnit.

Somi’s finger is on her tank top, stretching the fabric outwards. Her tits are practically squished together, making them a lot more bigger than they already are. Then she pulls down, and you find out that she wasn’t wearing a bra this entire time. You also find out that the only thing that was on her boobs were a pair of nipple tape covering her buds.

“You sure you don’t want to?” Her finger’s moving across her top, showing you more of that milky white skin, and she knows that you’re getting hooked. “I even brought lube.”

“Somi-” Your hand springs up, slapping her hand away and pulling her top back up in one smooth motion. “I thought we said no funny business outside the hotel.”

“We’re still in the hotel aren’t we?” Of course she’s gonna pull semantics at you. “Just a little quickie before we head out for the festival.”

The line’s set, and you’re tugging it. “You just can’t help yourself, can you.” 

She’s lifting her arms above her head, emphasizing her chest, her tight clothing rising with it to show her stomach, defined and toned from all the yoga lessons she’s been doing. You unconsciously grip the table sheets.

“I just wanna show my appreciation for my sweet, sweet boyfriend-” She’s reeling you in, hard, and you inevitably let yourself be swept away. “-who set up this entire trip and drove me all the way here so early in the morning.”

You’re thinking of happy thoughts, the logistics of the rest of the trip that you have yet to do with her, the caesar salad that you’ve been enjoying. Anything to stop yourself from appreciating the view right in front of you because this is getting out of hand.

The chair screeches. “So whenever you’re done here,” Somi’s standing up, giving you a very nice view of her cleavage as she does. “I’ll be heading back up and getting myself ready.” That smirk is still on her face when she leans in. “Maybe if you’re fast enough you can have a piece of my ass.”

Your resolve is officially gone, the idea of having Somi’s sweet, tight ass once more becoming too tempting as she walks away, waving her keycard at you like it was some sort of prize. Your eyes are glued to her waist moving from side to side.

Sinker.

—

You had to sit and wave at the waiter to pay for the food. Normally you’d go right up to the cashier to do that but a particular brunette made it hard to stand up. Once you manage to get up from your seat without your hard-on in full display to the other patrons, you immediately speed walk it to the elevator. 

You’re falling back into the same repetition of Somi causing trouble, dragging you to another round of debauchery. You already tried to set ground rules by only doing it inside the hotel, but you suppose you’ll need to re-negotiate it to just being in the hotel room.

Which, thinking on it, was where you were going. Sigh.

She’s irresistible, and she knows it. Shit, she flaunts it whenever she can around you because she knows you’ll give in eventually.

Maybe you can slip in one dose of Jeon Somi’s tight ass before you move on with your plan to take her out for a romantic date. Considering the plan’s already screwed up as it is, all cause Somi—and by extension, you—decided to have some fun. 

Though, you really should stop this. Say no. Sounded simple enough. Just one word. Lay it out flat.

But the seed’s already planted. The picture of her in your hotel room, waiting, naked, touching herself, prepping for all the dirty things you’ll be doing to her; Your inhibitions get shot to pieces.

You already know what’s going to happen when you walk through that door. She’ll be somewhere in the room—the balcony, you bet—ready for you to ravish her. And for all intents and purposes, you might as well enjoy the detour.

Soon as you open the door to your hotel room, the TV’s blaring out music and the bathroom door’s open. You take your shoes off before walking up to the doorway to be greeted with the unholy sight of Somi.

Naked, leaned into the bathroom counter where she uses the mirror to glance at you, her ass swaying as one of her hands are in between her legs and the other resting on the cold marble right next to a clear little bottle.

“Hey there.” She sighs out. “Just–finishing up.” Her eyes are fluttering shut, two fingers pumping into her puckered hole, already knuckle deep at this point. Somi knows the drill when it comes to preparing herself for anal; she has it down to a science at this point.

Her hand slides over to the bottle, pushing it towards you as a silent suggestion before she ruffles her hair, making her all the more ruinable. You’re shaking your head, but you step behind her anyway, unbuckling your belt in the process.

“Always a tease.” You’re pulling your pants down, your boxers following after to let your cock feel the cold air of the bathroom.

“Like you don’t love it.” She replies, orbs blinking open, looking at you through the mirror with fuck me eyes as she pulls her hand away from her hole. “Ready when you are.”

You’re applying an ample amount of lube onto your cock, stroking to help cover your entire shaft as you move closer, resting yourself on her ass. “You’re excited.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been horny ever since we got in the car.” 

You scoff. “You’re always horny.” 

She laughs. “Who wouldn’t when you have that cock–” Your tip’s pressing against her asshole, making her unable to reply as she feels you push into her. It’s splitting her open, her tight, slick ass taking you in slowly.

“Hurry up.” She’s taking deep, steady breaths as she presses back onto your cock, adjusting to the feeling of your cock inside her, taking even more of you as you grip her hips. As you bottom out, she lets out a groan, smiling through the pain of taking your entire dick up her ass.

“You’re getting impatient.” A hand lifts up from her hip to grab one of her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. “Thought you’d wanna take your time.”

“You still gotta take me to that festival.” She moans out as you’re pulling out slowly, letting her get used to your size before you stretch her out again. She clenches around you, impossibly tight, as you slowly begin to buck into her. “And I wanna get to–Fuck, that’s it–get to the beach too.”

She loops one of her hands around her neck as a harness, pulling herself up to give you a kiss. “So as much as I want to enjoy this–“ Another sigh slips out of her, the pleasure slowly erasing any of the pain that she’s feeling. “–You need to dick me down, fast, so we can enjoy our vacation.”

You smile, dipping down to pepper kisses around her neck. “Something we agree on, babe.” Your thrusts progressively get faster into her, enjoying the feel of her ass, the lube doing wonders for the both of you as she braces herself once more on the counter.

She’s so unbelievably snug, the feel of her abs flexing on your hand as she sucks you in so much easier now, the wet, sticky, warm hole overtaking your mind as you get to pounding her asshole.

”Fucking missed this ass, didn’t you?” She’s watching you over the reflection, your gaze laser focused on the bounce of her ass. It was hypnotizing, seeing it recoil from how hard you’re ramming your cock into her. 

“I never say no to your ass.” You grunt out, gripping her hip a bit firmer, squeezing her tit a bit harder, hammering a bit faster as you enjoy hearing her whimper your name out, her hand shooting up to hold onto yours as she shifts her body to lean into you instead.

”Then ruin my ass–“ She’s grinning, squeezing her breast over your hand. Her other hand is moving back down between her legs again, circling her clit, adding even more to the bliss she’s feeling. “–ruin it for anyone else.”

You oblige, hand crashing down on her ass before you grip her again, near the small of her back this time as you get rougher, thrusts getting more frantic as she starts to sing all these filthy words out.

“God, love you in my ass. Love it when you stretch my ass out, filling me, breaking me.” She’s on a tangent, muttering out all these porn star-y lines as if she is one, and honestly? She can probably make bank if all she had to do was take dick. “Gonna–Gonna make me your whore, aren’t you? Make me take your cock in all my tight fucking holes till I can’t fucking walk anymore–”

A sharp crack airs out, followed by a chuckle, slow, breathy, enticing. Her tongue’s out, tracing her lips. “Do it again. Slap my ass some more.”

And you do it. God do you do it. Your palm’s leaving hard slaps on her skin, leaving it with red marks that gets her even more fucked up as she watches, mouth widening at how much you’re utterly obsessed with her and her ass.

“Only think about cock nowadays don’t you, you stupid bitch.” You pinch a bud, giving her another slap on the ass. Whether she tightens up from the slap or the degrading nickname, you can only guess. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re getting mine.”

”Yes, love your cock–“ Somi’s rubbing herself faster now, fingers getting desperate as you slam harder into her hole, unrelenting. “Own this ass–” Her eyes are rolling back, her entire body starts to tremble, losing herself as she grips the counter again, letting herself be used like a doll. 

”Oh, fuck–“ She lets out this scream, raw, husky as liquid starts to drip out of her, dripping down her legs all the way to the tiles. Her head slacks downward, eyes shutting, her ass somehow gets even more vice-like than you thought it could get, making you murmur out a curse, reluctantly pulling out of her ass to stop yourself from following her.

Her fingers are persistent, working her clit when you spread her ass, looking at her gaping hole. You grip your shaft, lowering it down to her pussy, slick from her cum, dragging it up and down, the feeling of her heat making you wet your lips.

She shudders when you push inside her cunt, legs still shaking as you bury deep inside her. Her ass may have been tighter, but the feeling of her pussy being so much more slicker and the way it was radiating heat makes you groan out.

“Miss my pussy too?” She purrs, using the mirror to look at the both of you. Her hair’s a mess, brown strands sticking out all over the place, tongue playfully peeking out as that damn smirk forms on her mouth while you start fucking her.

“Just getting a taste.” You’re wrapping your arms around her, locking eyes with Somi through the glass as you lean in to whisper in her ear. “Promise to cum inside your ass.”

She grins, leaning back, mouth dropping open as you start to pick up the pace, her  body rocking forward every time you get balls deep inside of her. “You better. Want that cum filling up my ass, baby.”

You’re still focused on her face, from the way her eyes are rolling back again, from how rough you pummel into her, her mouth that’s panting out moans and begging for more of you, your cock, your cum. Her gaze never loses sight of you, watching you pound her into the marble.

Then you feel it. That all-familiar stirring in your balls, making you go feral, and she can sense it too, by how she pushes back against your hips, letting her take you for a ride.

You’re holding onto her tits, squeezing the soft flesh, rolling her nipples between your fingers, tugging at them, while Somi’s grounding herself by the counter as she’s bucking, grinding her ass against you whenever she takes you all in.

Her ass is fucking unbelievable to look at, soft, firm, bouncing with this rhythm that edges you closer to the end. The slaps of her backside hitting your pelvis is all you can hear, fueling you further to bursting. That tightness in your balls is building, the feel of her wet, hot pussy sending you to the deep end before you spill inside her.

“Gonna cum, Somi, fuck–” You lock up, going for one last push to cross the finish line as you send it, deep, filling her completely with your length.

The pressure breaks, hands sliding down to hold onto her curves, locking her in place as you cum, shooting up her pussy, the few hot spurts painting her walls. Then you remember where you’re supposed to cum, and pull out abruptly. Cum’s still leaking out as you press your tip into her asshole, flooding her pucker with your load.

“That’s it.” She stills, moaning in tune with every pulse of your cock, filling her ass, rolling her hips as you thrust, stuffing her with cock, giving her every bit of your cum. “So much hot, fucking cum all inside me.”

You slump over Somi, resting your head by her nape, completely spent and she’s glowing. As if your cum was some sort of energy drink that invigorates her, looking like she wasn’t pounded into the bathroom sink. 

“So–” She plants this sloppy kiss on your cheek, a snicker coming out of her as she rests her head on yours. “My ass still as good as you remember?”

“Always.” You sigh out, pulling out of her and drawing her into your arms. “Now shut up and let me have this moment.”

Her lips curve upwards, air scoffing out through her nose as she leans into you, running a hand through your hair, damp from your past actions. She leaves another kiss on your shoulder, soft, loving.

“This is nice,” she mutters out, nestling underneath you.

You hum in agreement, seeing yourself smiling over the reflection of the mirror.

Even if you two have done this so many times, you’d never get tired of having Somi in your arms.

—

After the bathroom incident, you both took a shower—separately, of course, you didn’t want any more unpredicted scenes happening—and walked to the nearby festival. Fucking about in the short trip to the venue was something you’d expect coming from her.

“Why is the festival so far away from the beach?” Somi’s fixing her bucket hat, using the nearby window of a cafe as a mirror. “You said that it was nearby.”

“It is.” You place a hand on the small of her back, steering her away from the window where people were definitely watching her model for free. “It’s a ten minute walk.”

“That’s ten minutes too long though-” And the countdown’s at five. You’re rushing her to the crossing, guiding her out of any more trouble. “-and my feet are starting to hurt.”

“Somi, we just got out of the hotel.” You deadpan. “And how does your feet hurt in All-Stars?” You stop at the other side, turning your head to face her.

“Because you’re walking too fast, jackass.” She pouts. It’s not something you see everyday from her. “Slow down a bit, enjoy the scenery.”

You know what she meant by ‘scenery’. It was Somi-speak for ‘Let’s find a place for a quickie’. One more way to derail this break you’ve planned for weeks. And you were not gonna fall for it a second time.

“Somi.” Your voice is stern, calling her out on her bullshit. “Seriously, not outside.”

She rolls her eyes, lips jutting out just enough for it to look adorably pissed off. “It’s just a joke–”

“No, it wasn’t.” You cut her off. “I know you. And that’s not a joke.”

Some would think you’re being too harsh on her. Normally, you’d agree. But you need to put your foot down this time. The glare on your face surprises her, like she wasn’t expecting you to push back on something that’s become the norm in your relationship.

She’s a walking trouble magnet. Anytime, anywhere. It didn’t matter if it was a risky fuck in a public bathroom or getting fingered at a park. If she wants to get off, she’ll more than likely drag you to it. She usually expects you to follow through. Do whatever type of fucking on whatever surface is nearby. 

You can tell she doesn’t like hearing it. It was foreign. Unfamiliar territory that she’s stepped on. Wasn’t like you want to say it either, because you don’t. But Somi was pushing, even with that ‘hotel only’ rule-thing in place. 

Somi knows it. She had to. It’s why she hasn’t said anything. Only stared, searching, sighing. You know you’ve won when she adjusts her bucket hat and purses her lips together.

“You’re no fun today.” She says, wrapping her arms around yours, hiding her face from your gaze, and mutters something you barely heard.

“...But I get it.”

You let air come out through your nose, and relax just a tiny bit. Enough for her to know that you’re not truly mad, and maybe a tad bit disappointed. Her arms tighten their grip. She exhales, dramatic, exaggerated, theatrical.

“I hope you know that you owe me one later.” Her smirk is creeping back onto her face, the teasing coming back in full swing. And perhaps, even a bit of understanding slipping in.

“Yeah, yeah.” You shake your head, giving her an amused little smile. “Put it on the tab.”

She giggles, leaning into your side as you continue walking. Her head turns.

“Is that coconut?” She asks, leaning just a bit more to smell your scent.

“Yeah, why?” You’re turning a corner, a small sign pointing to the festival’s venue stuck on a wall.

“Nothing.” She gets comfy in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. “Smells nice, is all.”

This is nice too; Quiet, comfortable, enjoying each other’s company.

Until you feel it. The crowd getting thicker, the chatter and the footsteps matching the beat of the traditional drums. You felt livelier, hell, the entire place felt alive, and the smell of mouthwatering, rich, smoky, meat enters you.

Rows upon rows of food stalls are lined up; The sizzling meat, the cold boba, the multitude of grub tempting you to take part in it.

“Oh my God.” Somi lets go of your arm, slipping downward to hold your hand instead. Her stare is darting, left, right, looking between the display of delicious delights. She feels warm. “We are so eating first.”

“I thought you said you were full.”

“After what we did earlier, I need a little pick me up.” She’s dragging you to the nearby booth, the aroma of sweet, sweet meat filling your nostrils, and by God you wanted one too.

Sausages, kebabs, fishcakes. Everything looked so good you can’t choose where to start. It’s a good thing Somi does, as she takes a skewer of pork—maybe beef? You weren’t sure—and a cup of fishcakes, already pulling out change from her handbag to pay the vendor, giving her thanks while she’s at it.

She turns to you, already taking a bite of her skewer, taking the top piece off before she practically moans.

“This is sho good.” She’s shameless with the food, swiping her tongue to get the sauce off her lips, the sounds coming out of her bordering pornographic, getting her the occasional odd stare from others. “You want some?”

Shit, if the smell didn’t tempt you, the way she ate the meat would have.

She’s offering you the stick, and you were about to take it off her hands before she pulls it away, an “uh-uh” coming out disapprovingly. 

“What?” You ask, looking back at her, head tilted, giving you a look. She holds it up one more time, closer to your mouth this time. 

Your eyes cycle back and forth from hers to the stick, trying to figure if there’s some sort of ulterior motive that Somi’s trying to pull. But seeing her round ebony globes turn to crescents, face grinning, brows wagging lets you know that she really does want to feed you her meat. 

Your breath catches briefly before you let out this airy laugh. This doesn’t feel remotely close to the Somi you know, but you’re enjoying it either way.

“Unbelievable.” You mutter out, leaning in to bite the cube of flesh off the stick, chewing it slowly, savoring the flavor of the meat—definitely pork—and the sweet taste of the sauce it was dipped on before Somi bought it off the stall.

“Told you it’s good.” She’s already smug about it, finishing up the skewer before she uses the stick to dig into the fishcakes. “Almost as good as yours.”

“Did–did you just compare me to pork?” 

“Yours is still the best, babe.” She’s smirking, putting a piece of cake into her mouth before walking away. “Let’s go see what else is on the menu.”

You two move through the area, trying out whatever peaks catches your interest, like those fish bread that had bean paste inside, some fried dumplings, and a bowl of spicy ramen that you could get for free if you ate it within the set time limit. 

Both you and Somi left that shop a few bills short and egos bruised.

Your tongue is scorching from the heat and spices of whatever monstrosity of a ramen bowl you just ate, half tempted to take off your jacket while you’re at it and Somi’s wiping a tear from her eye, huffing short breaths. Just trying to recover from how fucking spicy the noodles were, and trying to salvage any shred of pride you two have.

“I think I’m dying.” She hisses out, fanning her face with her bucket hat. “We need milk or something. Anything. Just–what the fuck was in that ramen–just needs to be cold.”

You're scanning the nearby stalls, trying to find something that can alleviate this flame burning your mouths. Ice cream, shakes, something freezing. You’d take plain old water if it was kept frozen for hours on end.

Then you see it. Squeezed between two vendors, condensation dripping down the glass dispenser, ice and lemons floating over the body of water within. You can feel how cold it is from a mile away. It’s a Godsend, a light to guide you out of this hell, and Somi sees it too, speed walking towards the kiosk with you right behind her.

As soon as you approach the owner, he’s already preparing cups as if he knows everyone who’s tried the ramen came to his stall. Freezing cubes, citrusy yellow fruits, chilly H2O, all combined into a concoction that would bring forth paradise to the inside of your lips.

Somi doesn’t bother with a straw, she just pops the lid open and starts chugging it down while you’re still paying for your drinks, saying your thanks as you start drinking your own plastic cup. It’s refreshing, dousing the blaze in icy cold liquid.

The lemonade does its job, allowing a respite to finally breathe again. Somi’s already finished her drink, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, letting out a laugh.

“We’re checking every instant ramen pack we buy after that.” She says, shaking her head, blowing air through her mouth, still feeling the effects of the noodles. You let out this hum of agreement, too occupied with the bliss of the cold refreshment.

“Oh yeah.” You finally sigh out, licking your lips. “That was worse than your cooking.”

She swats your arm, light but firm enough to make you almost drop your juice. 

“My cooking’s great!” Her brows furrow, cheeks puffing out.

“Exactly. That was made by the Devil. Anything’s better than that.” You shift your grip, making sure that nothing spilled onto your hand while giving her a look.

She rolls her eyes, muttering about how ‘ungrateful’ you are when her gaze flickers past you; Her brows raise, jaw slacking slightly making you turn your head to follow her sight.

Your lips were about to part, to ask her what she’s looking at, until a deep boom cuts through the festival. It was slow, steady, pulsing, shaking the ground with each beat. Everyone around you stirs, turning to the source near the open area in the middle. You see costumed dancers with large fans on their hands. The beat of the drums goes faster, and you’re unconsciously taking Somi by the wrist, pulling her towards the performance. 

The show is spectacular; the colors of their dresses swirling around, the lights bouncing off them. They dance like a well-oiled machine, giving the spectators a show of a lifetime.

Your head turns, glancing at Somi, who’s just as immersed as you were, a glow in her those small orbs that you can get lost in that only ever shows when she’s gazing at things she cares intimately about. The orange light frames her face perfectly, the flickering shining through, a rawness in how she’s watching being written in her visage.

You can tell that she’s not just watching. The way her lips are still parted, her body nodding to the beat. She’s taking it in, losing herself in it, oblivious to the outside world. Oblivious to your staring.

Everyone’s focused on the dancers, the ballad of drums thumping along with each step they take, the muttering of the crowd as they’re wow’d by the show blending in with the smell of the nearby food stands. But all you’re focused on is her.

Somi’s blowing you away under the warm hue of the lanterns, a honeyed light encapsulating her hazel hair that makes her look like a Goddess; Shit, she probably is, and you can’t help but trace every little feature of her face; The curves of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips, the light in her eyes. While everyone’s breath is taken away from the performers, yours is taken away by her.

She looks like she’s a dream that you’ve all but imagined. One you could spend the rest of your life looking at.

And you want to tell her. God, do you want to tell her.

But you settle for holding her hand instead, giving it a light squeeze. She squeezes back.

“It’s beautiful.” Her focus is still centered on them, talking about the performance.

“Yeah.” You’re talking about her. “It is.”

She turns, locking her gaze onto yours, and she realizes that too. 

Her grip on your hand gets tighter as the last beat drums out into the air, the group posing, bowing, thanking everyone. Claps and cheers sound out as everyone slowly returns to what they were doing before.

Just like the two of you do, when a smirk appears on her face. “Getting sappy on me?”

“Shut up.” You chuckle, walking backwards, your hand never letting go of hers as you continue on exploring. The warmth in your chest still lingers.

She lets out this tiny teasing giggle, fingers squeezing playfully, letting herself be strung along the crowd. The entire place feels even more lively than it was before the dance, the swarm of people occupying the stalls once more, the energy at an all time high. 

You can still smell the aroma of the kebabs, trying to pull you back in for another taste. You see the hellish ramen shop full of people lined up to take on the challenge; The lemonade stand has pre-made cups ready.

You nudge Somi, nodding to the stand, where the current contestant’s booking it to buy said juice, causing you two to laugh at the similarities.

You and her floated, going everywhere, doing everything. Listening to the band that performed earlier do a much more calmer beat. Watching Somi try—and fail—at shooting darts.

“You good?” Your arms are crossed, amusement coloring your face as she’s aiming at the board, an eyelid closed, tongue sticking out at the side, arm cocking forward. “I can do it for you, you know.”

“Shush.” A moment. An arm extending. A thunk in the air.

“Nice.” You’re clapping. “You hit nothing three times.”

She grunts, slamming down coins on the table. “You do it then.”

And you did. You hit dead center twice. You got a small keychain of a lantern too.

Somi’s sulking, arms crossed as she stares at the board, muttering out one word. “How?”

“You’re just bad.” You can’t help but be smug about it.

You got another smack on the arm for that.

The sun’s starting to set when the both of you ended up at the souvenir portion of the place, where you can see another line on a small photobooth on the side, stalls of handmade jewelry, charms, candles, whatever can be kept as keepsakes after today.

You’re window shopping—mostly—while Somi’s going through each and every one of the sellers, picking up trinkets that catch her eye. A bracelet here, an amulet there, she’ll try them all.

You’re mostly sticking to one, browsing through columns of rings, some similar, others completely different; A variety of colors, simply intricate designs, silver and gold bands all presented in ring boxes. A few have stones adorned on them, or have engravings etched in the metal.

Yet you only see one, tucked away in a corner. You hover over it, brushing your fingers over its container, and you pick it up.

The ring itself is made of this ashen grey metal, a thin turquoise line running in the middle, looping around it. It doesn’t scream attention, but there’s something fitting about it that makes you want to-

“What you got there?” Somi’s back with you, staring at the box that you’re holding. 

You blink, and you have an epiphany; The ring wasn’t for you, it’s for her.

“Put it on.” You take the ring out of the box and place it down, and you can feel the merchant look away and whistle.

“You’re proposing already?”

“Thought it would suit you.”

She laughs, takes it off your hands and twirls it, examining it for herself. She smiles, small, almost unnoticeable, and slowly slides it on her ring finger—it fits perfectly.

“What do you know,” Somi’s admiring it on her hand. “It does suit me.” There’s a fondness in the way she says it, as if she already likes the feeling of having it on her finger.

You were expecting her to follow up on that proposal joke she made before she put it on; She didn’t.

You had that gut feeling that she’d like it earlier, but the way she looks at it catches you off guard. Like it was something that she didn’t know she needed. Like a memento that came from someone special. Someone like you.

And that was all you needed to know to get it for her.

“So what did you get?” You’re nonchalantly changing the topic, trying to hide your excitement by fishing a few more bills out of your wallet, making a subtle face at the seller like you were asking for the price.

“This.” She says just as you pay and grab the ring box from the table. “You got me this.”

“Oh.” You shrug. That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “Well, I-uh, I hope you like it.”

“I love it.” She corrects, thumbing the ring. “I’m never taking it off.”

“Now who’s getting sappy?”

She makes this noise—happy, embarrassed—and shakes her head, smiling. “I hate you.”

You chuckle. “No, you don’t.”

She doesn’t answer. She only tugs you by the hand. “Come on, I heard there’s fireworks and the beach has the best view.”

You can’t help but tease her a bit when your brow raises and your lip turns upwards. “You didn’t get me anything did you?”

“Keep talking and I won’t get you anything at all.”

—

You can feel the festival’s energy stay with you two when you reach the outskirts of the beach, the faint smell of all the food you’ve passed by lingering on your clothes. But the chaos of it all is dimmer, the coastline not as populated, with only a few scattered around the area.

You took the long way back, enjoying the nightlife scenery of the area—without shenanigans—seeing everyone else enjoy the festival just as you did, the orange lights being replaced with the moonlight, some of the organizers prepping the colorful rockets that will dazzle the crowd later on.

Somi hasn’t stopped smiling, fooling around every other moment, raving all about the fireworks like it's the New Years and she needs someone to do that kissing tradition people do when it hits quadruple zeroes.

Wasn’t like you’d say no. Win in your books really.

The both of you end up on a pathway of rubble and stones, eventually coming across a set of benches looking towards the shore. She acts first, moving forward, pulling you with her to sit on the wooden chair.

Other than the sound of the waves crashing and the cicadas, it was finally quiet. A nice, comfortable quiet. Enjoying the silent peace, away from the chaos of the festival.

She rests her head on your shoulder, hand still looped around yours. “Borrow your jacket?”

“Sure.” You don’t hesitate, already moving to take your jacket off. You pull away from her for a moment to slip it from your shoulders and drape it over hers, securing it over her arms.

“Thanks.” Her fingers take a hold of the leather, pulling it closer to herself before she nestles back against you. A moment passes between you two, then–

“It’s still fucking cold.”

“I can always get you another bowl of that ramen–”

“No. Snuggle me.”

“O-kay.” And snuggle her you did. Arm over her shoulder, a kiss on her forehead. You two stay like that for a while until she takes another whiff of you, and squints.

“You really need to tell me that perfume you’re wearing.” She states.

“I’ll hand you the bottle back at the hotel.” She pouts.

“Just tell me the name already.” She whines. It was cute.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” She’s puffing her cheeks. It was cuter.

“Killjoy.” She elbows lightly. “Gonna snoop through your luggage for that bottle.”

“And now you’ll never get it.” You grin. It turns into a laugh when she elbows you a bit harder this time.

You two quiet down after, enjoying the view of the beach. She’s holding on to your hand, that ring on her finger glinting. She stares at it, smiling like an idiot again.

“Really outdid yourself this time, huh.” She mutters, too low for you to hear.

You hum, glancing down at her still staring at her hand. “Did you say something?”

She meets your eyes, giving you that look that she had back when you two were watching the performance happen. She holds it a beat too long, and opens her mouth to speak—

“Aeri told me.” She starts, gaze staying on you, even as you look away. Of course Aeri is a rat. “About why we’re here.” She chuckles. “And I think I should clear things up between us.”

“You don’t have to-” A nudge stops you from continuing.

“Shut up and let me talk.” Even when she’s serious there’s still that faint teasing inside of her. But it gives way when she breathes in and holds it, and lets it go.

“Every ex I’ve had was there because I’m ‘hot’. The easy fuck. And I knew about it.” She continues, thumb moving around the ring once more. “So I leaned into that stuff. I love doing it anyway, so I thought it’d be a win-win for everyone, you know?” She looks away, back to the shoreline. “But it didn’t feel right. Like–like yeah the sex was good–you’re the best–” She clarifies, and that kind of made your ego swell up a bit.

By a lot, actually.

“–But it was just sex. Honestly felt like I was booty call than anything else.” She shakes her head, sighing, tired from remembering those times, but pushes on anyway.

“So when we started fucking, it was different.” Her fingers tighten around the jacket. “It was fun. Well, sex is always fun, but it was funnier–”

“Funner.” You interject. Another elbow.

“Shut up.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, with you it’s sorta not like that. I actually want to fuck you because I–”

She licks her lips, a little embarrassed about what she’s going to say next even though you already know what she’s about to do anyways.

“–I love you and I know that I don’t say it too much and I knowIshouldbutlikeIdont–”

“Somi, breathe.” Your arm over her grips her shoulder, just enough to ground her back from her short crashout.

She leans back into your chest, hiding, whining, breathing. One last deep inhale, and she’s sitting back up.

“Okay, okay.” Somi exhales, shaking off any sort of fluster she has left. “I’m fine, good, chill.” A finger pokes your chest. “You really need to tell me what your perfume is.”

“If it lets you say ‘I love you’ more then I’ll get you an entire bottle.”

“Oh my God.” She laughs, hand over her face. “You are not gonna tell me the name aren’t you?”

“Maybe after the trip.” You shrug, chuckling yourself as you watch her laugh harder.

“Such a jackass.” She lets out, her laughter dying down. “Seriously though, you might think that I fuck you for shits and giggles like Aeri said you were thinking. And while I appreciate the fact that you did all this–” Her hand finds yours, soft, firm, assuring. You can feel the ring indent against your skin. “–I also appreciate you a lot more. So don’t you fucking doubt that, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” You smile, pecking her lips. “Love you.”

“...Love you too.” She smiles, hiding behind her hair this time. “Even if you won’t give me your damn perfume.”

“You are obsessed with finding out what it is.” 

“Yeah, and I am losing my fucking mind about it.” She’s back to cuddling you, your arm over her frame, dumb dopey little smiles on each of your faces. The small quiet moment passes, then—

“Sorry if I brought up exes, just–thought it was important.”

“You let me know I’m your best fuck. Nothing to be sorry about.” You get another light ribbing for that, but the giggle that comes out of her doesn’t deny your statement.

Something else was gnawing at you though.

“Did Aeri really rat me out?” You ask, scoffing, noting that you shouldn’t trust Aeri with any more secret trips. And maybe advice too.

Her eyebrows hike up. “What, because she let me know that you’re a closet Romeo in hiding?”

“I want to say that I’m more Han Solo than Romeo when it comes to romance.”

And the laugh that comes out of her sounded so genuine, so beautiful, so hers. “And I’m Princess Leia?”

“I mean,” You exaggerated, prolonging the word out in the air and making this face at her. “It’s better than being dead as Juliet. And Romeo too.”

She laughs harder, and you can’t help but get drawn into it too. It’s contagious, her energy, her teasing, her everything.

Eventually it dies down to small giggles and chuckles, and you’re back to having that comfortable silence with her. Then she stands up and turns to you, arm outstretched towards you. “Come on Romeo, still gotta get you something.”

“Are you trying to cheapskate by getting me a seashell?” A grin appears on your face as you let yourself be dragged away by her once more.

“Don’t forget about the fireworks.” She tosses over her shoulder, hurrying the both of you towards the sand, kicking off her shoes. You tug off your own, taking both pairs with you, leaving footprints down as you follow her into the grain.

The cold salty breeze of the sea hits you, and you see Somi waving to some of the people she passes by. Her hair flows down her back as the wind blows through, tilting her head back to feel the air, smiling as she closes her eyes. You wish you can take a photo of her because fucking hell is she beautiful.

Her head’s turning before you can, that familiar playful glint in her eye alongside a warmth that you’ve been craving for. So much so you’re unconsciously letting a smile break out of your face.

“What?” She asks, lips curling, as if she already knows where this is going. “Does Romeo have something to say?”

You don’t speak, only walk forward. Somi’s an arm’s length away when you drop your shoes onto the sand and take a hold of her, wrapping your arm around her waist, another resting on her cheek. She doesn’t pull away, if anything she leans into you, her own arms closing around your neck, and before you can act on kissing her, she’s pulling you instead.

Everything fades when her lips meet yours; All you can feel is how soft she is, the faint taste of fishcake and lemon hitting your tastebuds, her fingers threading around your hair. The way her cheek leans into your hand, the heat of her body molding to yours.

It’s different, not unlike every other kiss you’ve had with her. Desire, arousal, whatever you call it, it’s muted, replaced with warmth, joy, love. Less of a flicker and more of a flame, slowly gaining strength and settling within.

When she pulls away for air, the sight of her grinning is the first thing you see, breathless, eyes brighter than the shine of the moon. “Love you.” She utters, pecking your lips briefly, arms resting on your chest.

You only tilt your head, resting your forehead on hers, hands staying on her waist, keeping her close. You press your lips against hers, and it’s all the words she needs to feel how much you love her too.

A crack in the air splits the moment, making you turn your head to see bright lights in the air, the first wave of fireworks bursting into rainbows, crossing the dark skies.

“Told you this was the best view.” She says, eyes reflecting the colors in the clouds, the sounds of people cheering in the background muffled by all the cracking in the sky. 

You’re still holding her close as you watch the night get infected with the festival’s energy, each explosion painting the stars. The colors dance on the both of you—gold, crimson, azure—and you just can’t get enough of staring at her. 

“Ten out of ten.” You let out, no longer afraid of being caught by her. The smile on her face says she knows you’re talking about her, just like she did back at the festival. She doesn’t tease this time, accepting it instead.

Eventually the pauses between each wave of fireworks get longer, and you’re left with the sound of the waves crashing, the crowd splitting up into silent murmurs.

She sighs out, a small one, but you can feel the weight of everything leaving her. A laugh slips out, that familiar, joking little laugh with a hint of friskiness behind it.

“So,” A tug of your hand, and you’re heading back to the path out of the beach, passing by to pick up your shoes. “Wanna head back to the hotel and fuck all night?”

“Somi-”

“No, no.” She clarifies, swinging her arm and yours follow. “Romeo needs to realize that I love him. So I need to show him how much I do.”

…Oh.

There’s no teasing in there; Just pure honest resolve coming out. And when the words from before and now finally start to sink in, and your heart start to beat faster from the desire and the warmth that comes with all the implications of them. Physical, emotional, mental, spiritual.

Wasn’t just you thinking it’s all about fucking for her anymore. Not after that. You were just too wrapped up in your own thoughts to see the bigger picture. 

Maybe you did overthink things.

You don’t even feel her tugging you for a kiss, your name whispering out her lips. “I want this. I want you. No bullshit.”

And she means it. You believe her. With everything that she’s saying and doing and wanting and needing.

“I want you too. All of you.”

“Good.” She grins, and that was the brightest thing you’ve ever seen today. “Cause you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

—

If there’s one thing that you didn’t regret paying for, it’s the hotel room. It wasn’t a suite or anything high-end nor was it any of the simple ones. It was the type after that, with the softer bed, the balcony view, a bigger TV—overall, just better.

So when you’re pushed down on the couch, Somi climbing on top of you, tongue shoved down your throat, you’re glad that the couch was pretty soft. You’re also glad that you can feel her tits pressing up against your chest when you kiss back.

She rolls her hips and gives your lower lip a bite that just fucks you up; She knows it too, when she grins and steals another kiss. Your hands rests on her waist, still rocking, grinding onto you. 

Somi’s everywhere; Resting on your shoulders, playing with your hair, slipping underneath your shirt. All the while her tongue is fighting yours, your own hands playing with the edges of her shirt.

You can feel your cock stirring, thickening underneath your pants, and it encourages her, keeping the slow pace that’s driving you insane.

“Someone’s enjoying this.” Her hands finally rest on your chest, face inches away from yours, that damn grin plastered on her face. She does it again, slower this time, and the sigh that comes out of her sounded like heaven on earth. Her grin widens, eyes flicking down to where you’re straining underneath your pants. “Really enjoying it.”

“Hey,” You squeeze a hip, smiling. “You fuck yourself on my lap like that, it’s kinda hard not to.” 

She hums, bringing your hands up to her tits, squeezing them over the shirt, molding them to be yours once more. You’ve felt her breasts so many times, through fabric, lace, bare, and you’ll never get tired of being able to have the privilege to cup them in your hands.

“God, Somi,” You groan, both from the way she’s forcing you to grope her chest—you’re into it as much as she is—and the way her hips are still rolling. She’s always been enthusiastic about sex, but this, this felt different. This is her offering everything, heart, body, and soul.

It wasn’t about her pleasure tonight. It was about yours.

“Does Romeo need help?” She asks, grinding, circling her weight down on you, making you squeeze harder on her tits. Intentional or not, she didn't care, all she does is let out another laugh because she knows you’re this close to throwing her to the bed.

She doesn’t wait for you to reply, take action, anything. Somi’s sinking down on her knees with this greedy, hungry look, her fingers making quick work of your belt buckle as she pushes your pants and your boxers down, your throbbing cock freed.

You know what’s going to happen; She’s done this so many times, she’s perfected the art of it. And you can’t wait.

“Fuck-” Somi licks her lips, wrapping a hand around you. She jerks you off slowly as she settles in between your legs, getting closer to your cock. You can feel her breath being so damn close. “Gonna worship you tonight baby.”

And the way she drags her tongue from the tip to the base in one agonizingly slow lick makes you wanna just, shit, you don’t even know. She was hot, wet, too damn slow, your cock twitching in her hand as she went back up to your head.

The next few minutes were her tongue tracing along your cock, leaving kisses where she knows you’re weak to, leaving your cock covered in spit, and she hasn’t even taken it in her mouth yet. 

She’s a damn tease, leaving you dying from the pleasure, arms gripping the couch as you let her do whatever she wanted with your cock. Her hands aren’t idle, stroking your spit-laden cock, playing with your balls, breathy little moans coming out of her mouth when she twirls her tongue on the tip.

You’re this close to begging, the need to thrust into her lips growing higher. But you won’t. Even though this is for you, it’s her play, and you’re here to enjoy the show.

You don’t even realize you called her name out, only that a smile appears on her face when she starts licking past the base of your cock and down to your balls. She takes one of them into her mouth, wetting them, her hot breath enveloping, encapsulating.

And the way she sucks on them, God it was like she wanted to kill you. Her tongue coating one, two, both, while her hands were playing with your shaft, jerking you, using her nails to trace the veins, thumbing the tip of your cock.

Somi’s a fucking menace, and she knows it. 

“Still alive?” She mutters, letting your balls go with a pop, sucking in her spit, drooling it all over your cock, making such a pretty mess of you.

“I need,” You’re desperate, panting, your own hands finding solace in her hair, resting, gripping, cock painfully wanting her mouth on it. You can’t even fucking talk, because this wasn’t pleasure, it was torture.

“Tell me.” She says, mouth hovering over your tip, letting out these pants that make your cock ache even more. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“Somi-” You can’t. Not when she’s fucking teasing you with her tongue, running it all over your tip, those brown eyes darkening with a need for your cock, your words, your end.

“Come on, Romeo.” You can barely call it jerking off with how much she’s slowed her hands down. “You can do it.”

“Shit, need you-” You’re thrusting your hips, throwing away your pride to silently beg instead of telling her what you want.

“Just one word, baby.”

“Somi, please-”

And her mouth takes you. All of you.

You swear a bell rang out the moment her lips came into contact with your cock, because the only thing you can see is white, and she’s the angel that’s coming to bring you to Heaven.

Once she takes your entire length, she stops, holding you there inside of her throat. Her tongue’s flat under your shaft, trying to move and get a taste of your balls. You don’t know how long she’s had your cock in her mouth, and you don’t care. You already lost count when she got on her knees.

She pulls back, spit coating her chin, dripping down her shirt. Strings of them are still connecting her lips to your cock as she wraps them back into you, sucking on the tip, tongue working all over, and her hands are back to pumping you.

“So good,” She lets out, lips still making out with your tip, giving you a cheeky wink that is making you lose your fucking mind. She takes more of you, mouth so damn hot, cock drowning how it’s getting wetter, cheeks hollowing as she starts to suck.

You thought you were dying when it was just her tongue. You’re six feet under when she starts bobbing her head on your cock, and she isn’t just worshipping. Fuck that, this is murder. 

There’s no method to her madness. She’ll go with slow, shallow, deep strokes, memorizing every inch, every vein of your cock that makes your toes curl. Suddenly she ramps it up to eleven and fucks her face on your cock, burying you inside of her throat, bracing yourself by gripping her hair tighter. Or she’ll be doing it somewhere in-between, her tongue flicking the tip, hands jerking you, eyes staring into yours.

“You love this, don’t you.” It’s a statement, one she makes after she’s throated your cock. You can’t let out a response when she’s coming back down, lips making out with your tip instead of going back down to the base.

You’re losing your fucking mind. Every time you thought she’d settle into a rhythm, she switches it up, keeping you on your toes, lips grinning, tiny little giggles coming out of her while she’s giving your cock the best blowjob you’ve ever had.

“Fucking adore this cock.” Your cock’s pushing against her cheeks, giving you this one hell of a view. “And it’s all mine.”

Her eyes did not fucking help. Every flick of her tongue, stroke of her hand, bob of her head. Those dark eyes did not leave yours. She’s already ruined you for anyone else, but this is ruining you.

The only thing you can do is let out these weak groans, moans that were borderline begging, just trying to hang on to the ride she’s giving you.

“God–” She starts, spitting another batch of saliva down your cock, her entire face a mess with spit and . “I could do this all night.”

Somi loves it. You know she does. Relishing in it, thriving off of every flex of your leg, every twitch of your fingers, every thrust of your hips.

It’s fueling her, knowing that you’re letting her do anything she wants to you. It’s a goddamn power trip, and she lets you feel how much she’s enjoying you wrapped around her pretty lips.

The moans she’s letting out causing those vibrations to spread all over your cock. The gags that follow were fucking filthy, so wet, so raw. Her throat’s pulsing, contracting around you whenever she takes you down all the damn way. Every choke is a sign of victory that keeps her going, fingers digging your thighs, spit leaking down her mouth.

She pops off of your cock, sucking in a breath. You heard it differently. Messy, needy, undeniably Somi. She’s grinning as she comes back to sliding her tongue over your shaft, spit all over the place.

Somi was not lying when she’ll be worshipping your cock tonight. She’s staking her claim on you, letting you know that nobody else can do it like she can. She’s in the top 1 percent of sucking dick, and you’re extremely lucky to have met this whirlwind of a woman.

“Gimme.” She doesn’t bother asking if you’re close. She can see you’ve been wanting to burst ever since she put her lips on you. “Gimme all that cum, baby. I’ll take all of it. Mouth, face, anywhere you fucking want.”

“Somi–” You growl, teeth gritting, the urge to ruin her entire face with your load at an all time high. Your hands pull her hair, signaling where you want it. “Fa–shit, babe. All over your face.”

“Yeah?” Somi’s stroking you faster, eyes locking with yours, sticking her tongue out as she opens wide. She’s just as fucked as you were, hair all messy from the pushing and pulling you’ve done, strands of it sticking to her flushed cheeks, spit running down her chin.

She’s the filthiest she’s ever been on her knees, and all the nasty things she’s saying, every single word that comes out of her mouth, that sent you over the edge.

“Gonna ruin me? Cover me in your cum? Turn me into your cumdump–ah!”

You're all over her. On her forehead, over her eye, on top of her nose. She’s gasping, moaning, reveling in your cum. She’s getting messier, cum on her hair, her cheeks, her lips.

“Fuck yes,” She draws out, licking her lips, having a taste. “Always so much cum.”

It’s a damn shame you couldn’t commit the view to memory because all you can feel is how good it was when Somi’s jerking you off, covering herself in you. It felt even better when she shoves herself back down her throat, swallowing the last few drops.

You groan, feeling her cheeks hollow out one last time, draining you of the last few drops you let out. You finally get a good view of her after the fallout of your orgasm, and she is drenched in white, one eye closed, lips stretched in a smile even with your cock sandwiching them. 

She pulls your cock out of her lips, and she grins while you’re still sitting on the couch reeling from whatever the fuck that was.

“Oh my God,” You sear her cum-streaked face into your brain, her shirt wet from the spit and cum, because holy shit does she look shamelessly ecstatic with how dirty she is while you’re still remembering how to breathe. “You’re just–what the fuck?”

Somi laughs, tongue flicking out to catch a drop of cum sticking to her lips. Her fingers aren’t idle too, scooping up the cum and sucking them clean. “That’s one.”

“What, are we–” You adjust yourself, watching how she cleans herself up of your cum. Every stray, every glob of it lands on her mouth, and she’s enjoying it like it’s ice cream. “Are we keeping score?”

She smirks, hands dropping down to grip the hem of her shirt, and she’s pulling it over her head, landing somewhere behind her—you don’t care—showing a lacy black bra. 

“Round two?” The bra comes off too, and you’re left looking at two very convincing arguments to keep going.

Then she’s coming back down to your cock, giving you these lazy licks, cleaning you up, taking care of you. You consider it the third argument, your cock stirring, twitching back upwards.

“Come on, Romeo. My tits still need to be fucked.” She says, cupping said breasts, giving them a good squeeze. She leans down, letting a trickle of her spit fall down between them; You are so fucking screwed.

Somi’s pulling your hands to her tits, holding them over her hands. You already had a feel of them earlier, but God are they—she—the best you’ve ever held in your arms. 

“Relax, baby.” And she’s wrapping her perfect fucking tits around you, soft, warm, killer. “Just enjoy.”

She starts slow. Tits sliding up and down your cock, hands pressing around her chest. Yours, hers, it didn’t matter. She presses tighter, the pressure, pleasure, both increasing as every pump between them sends your already sensitive cock to another orgasm.

“Holy shit,” You groan, because it’s the only thing you can do. She has you wrapped around her finger, her tits, her tongue, which is occasionally licking your tip whenever it peaks and God, this is going to make you cum so damn fast.

“You can move, you know.” She’s even encouraging you to, letting out another glob of spit down her breasts, moving faster. “Fuck my tits, fuck them like you own them.”

And you do. You thrust up, once, experimental, and she slides down. Then another. Your hands settle on her shoulders. Another thrust. She squeezes tighter. The tempo goes faster.

“That’s it. Use my tits. Make a mess all over them. Want to feel it all in my tits, baby.” Somi’s riling you up again with all the dirty words that come out of her mouth. “Your slut wants more of your cum. Please. Please.”

Her shoulders are your lifeline, pumping faster, her tits bouncing with each stroke. She’s biting her lip, watching you—eager, hungry, devoted—fall apart under the slick, warm cushion of her breasts.

It’s all sending you closer to pumping another load onto her. Her tits, her face, her moans. It’s like you’re in a lucid dream with the way it all feels. Soft, tight, wet, it’s all too much for you, and that aching in your stomach is coming back too strong, too fast.

You’re so fucked out of your mind from earlier that your pace doesn’t last. Your rhythm stutters, and she picks up right where you left off, even faster than you did.

“Yeah, that’s it–” She’s gasping, her hot breath teasing you with every thrust. “Cum for me. Come on, baby, give me more.”

She puts her tongue back in the mix, leaning down to flick the head, and that makes you lose control.

Your hand takes a hold of her cheek as you give one last pump, hot spurts painting her chest, filling her cleavage, lining her collarbone.

Somi’s still fucking her tits on your cock, milking you for every last drop and you’re left shaking. Legs, hips, it didn’t matter. All you know is that you’re cumming for her, and her chest is your next canvas.

And when you’ve given her what she’s wanted, you’re slumping back, vision foggy, body suffering from the pleasure that Somi’s has brought before you. 

She’s grinning, giggling, laughing. Your cum’s all over her, dripping down, sticking onto her like glue, a pearl necklace fashioned over her. She’s licking the cum off her tits, scooping up the bits she can’t, having her second serving of your cum for the night.

She’s making a performance out of it, now and before, when she cleans herself up. Drawn out moans, hums, teasing little giggles. Eyes holding yours.

“So,” Somi takes a hold of your cock, lips on you once more, and it’s more painful than pleasurable this time. She’s still hungry for more and shit, you are too. Hungry for her.

“Shower?”

—

You didn’t even make it to the shower when you decided to pick her up, place her on the marble counter, pull her jeans down, and push her thong to the side. She was drenched, her pussy glistening, dripping in arousal. And you are starving.

Your mouth is on her pretty lips, tongue swiping everywhere. Teasing her slit with slow, teasing licks, fucking her entrance with your tongue, flicking her clit with your thumb. She’s trying to drown you with her juices, the taste of her so sweet and pungent.

“Keep going–fuck, right there–” She’s gasping, cursing, grinding on your mouth. Her soft thighs are wrapping around your face, pulling you deeper, nails digging into your scalp. The pleasure’s taking over her entire being, filth spewing out of her mouth.

You’re holding her thighs, forcing them apart before you start to fuck her with your fingers—two—while your tongue moves to flicking her clit. Her walls are squeezing them, tight, wet, hot.

“Oh my God,” Somi’s panting, watching you feast on her pussy, tracking the hand that gave her thigh a little slap—a warning—before you reach upwards to cup one of her tits, feeling how good it molds to your touch.

You pinch a bud just as you curl your fingers insider her, hitting her right where you know will fuck her up even more. And she does, moaning, squirming, trembling all for you.

“I’m so close–please, please, please–” Somi’s singing you praises, hips thrusting into you, wanting to chase that high that you’ve been holding her back from, edging her from achieving it.

Until you decided that she’s been a good enough girl for you and started pumping your fingers and your tongue faster. You grope her breast harder, watch her fall apart for you, her voice peaking, begging. Her pussy making these filthy noises with each thrust of your fingers.

You give her tit another greedy grope, and you raise your hand to give it a rough slap. That’s enough to send her spiraling, reeling, cumming.

“Fuck–fuck–fuck–” Somi’s shaking, thighs quivering, back arching as the pleasure consumes her. You’re fucking her all throughout it, sucking her clit. She’s dripping down your fingers, your chin, the counter.

“Shit, baby–” Somi’s pushing your head off, her own resting back onto the mirror behind her. Her legs are still twitching as you stand up, caressing them. “This payback from earlier or what–”

“A guy can’t eat his girlfriend out?” You peck her lips, one of your hands reaching up to cup her tits as the other is brushing up the inside of her thighs.

“Make that two and a half then.” She chuckles, and for a second there her eyes had this loving glint, layered with the normal teasing gleam in them.

“Now, seriously. Shower and then we make it three.”

—

“Cumming!”

Somi’s wrapping her legs around your waist, back against the glass, pussy tightening around your cock. Her chocolate hair is sticking on her face, wet from the warm water that was falling around your bodies.

Her toes are curling as you pound her throughout her orgasm, her arms pulling you tighter, moaning profanities into your ear while you readjust your grip on her ass and give her slow, deep thrusts to keep you from slipping under the tiles.

“Harder–fuck–fuck me harder–” Her pussy’s gushing around you, thighs shaking, holding onto you for dear life as you slowly start to thrust faster. “Want, want your cum inside–shit–”

You grunt as her nails start to dig into your back, burying your face into her neck, biting hard enough to leave marks. She whimpers, legs locking around you, pussy somehow squeezing you tighter, and it’s getting to you.

Her soft, big tits pressed against your chest, her sighs directly reverberating into your ears combined with the sound of wet flesh slapping together, pussy clenching everytime you hit her g-spot.

It’s making you want to go faster, harder, deeper. You’re getting desperate to chase your high, all because of Somi. 

“‘M close.” You groan just as she cries out, her pussy pulsing, another climax approaching her body. She pulls away from your neck to press her lips against yours—needy, loving moans humming out of her as she tangles her fingers into her hair.

And that was all it took to make you cum, slamming into her, spilling your cum deep inside, the ecstasy crashing over your body as you lean forward to have the shower glass support the both of you. 

Somi’s shaking, milking you of every drop, screams echoing around the bathroom as she experiences another wave of pleasure rippling her entire body. 

The sound of water falling and breathing is the only thing left filling the air, the both of you clinging to each other to bask in the afterglow.

“Fuck, Romeo.” She giggles, forehead pressing against yours. “First you go down on me, now this?”

“What can I say,” You nuzzle back into her neck, leaving a kiss over one of the hickeys you’ve left her. “You got me all worked up back on the couch.”

And she laughs, head tilting back, and even with the water blinding you she looks so beautiful.

—

Your hands were busy groping her soft, full ass when she straddles you, back facing your chest as she rubs her pussy on your length before she eases herself down. She’s taking all of you, pussy dripping, heat wrapping around.

“God, this cock,” She sighs, arching her back. “Still so hard for me.”

You’re loving the way her pussy’s clenching around you, taking your length every time Somi bounced that tight ass of hers. Your hold on her ass tightens when she starts to pick up speed, that rhythmic sound of skin hitting skin starting to permeate the air.

It’s a symphony of moans spilling out of lips, creaks of the bed underneath you, and wet slicks of her pussy gripping your cock playing in the room, and you had the best view in the house when she starts to roll her hips like that.

“Babe, what–what the fuck–” The next few seconds were spent spouting out the dumbest shit you’ve ever said in your life, because the moment she leaned forward and popped her ass out even more to fuck herself on your cock you were losing mental capacity by the second.

“Want it slow?” She slows down and turns her head to look at you. It’s torture hidden in paradise, the pace she’s bouncing almost stopping to a crawl. “Or fast?”

“Whatever you want, just, you–” You can’t help but crash your hand down on her ass, the smack rippling the air. Somi takes it the wrong—or right, who gives a fuck—way and starts to ride you, picking up right where she left off; Ruining you.

She’s unrelenting now, fucking herself on your cock, that hypnotizing ripple of her ass staring back at you, drawing you in, drowning you. From the way she’s moving her hips, hitting every deep spot inside her on every drop of her ass, the curses that she’s singing; It’s all so fucking devilishly heavenly.

Hands grip the sheets, holding on for dear life as she’s getting more and more unhinged with how she’s slamming down on you. One of them reaches up to her ass, that goddamn ass that looks so fuckable, you can’t stop yourself from sliding your thumb over her asshole.

“Y-Yeah?” She’s too lost in her own pleasure to give out any sort of decent reply, her voice coming out as whimpers and moans and cries of pleasure in between all of it. “Want, want my ass again don’t you Romeo–”

You push your finger in the entrance, and she starts to break.

“Oh shit–” She gets impossibly tight as she starts convulsing, toes curling, body falling, hips still fucking fucking. One last slam of her ass and she’s lost it, moans, whimpers, screams; All in a span of a few moments.

You take it as a sign to move. Leave another slap on her ass as you sit upright and pull her towards you, falling back down as you start to fuck her, chasing after your own orgasm, the want to give another coating of your load inside of her growing higher and higher.

Hands grab everywhere; Her tight stomach, heavy tits, her neck. You’re not letting her rest after her climax as you give her neck a little squeeze, her cunt clenching around you, and that makes you see stars.

She’s coming with you when she’s pulled for a kiss, sloppy and needy and so adoring. Tongues are fighting when you’re buried deep inside her, taking every single drop of hot white cum. She’s groaning, feeling all of you pour into her.

And when it ends, you’re both catching your breath, 

“You might end up killing me tonight.” She mutters, leaving these little pecks and kisses over your jaw, your cheeks, your lips.

“You’ll do me in first.” You reply, hands coming back down to wrap around her waist as you pull out, feeling your spunk leak out onto the sheets.

She giggles like she always does, leaving another kiss on your lips, cheeks flushing from uttering the next words that come out of her. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Somi.” You grin. Two simple words and you’re getting all giddy again. “Love you too.”

—

You two didn’t really stop.

There were breaks in between, of course. Get a glass of water, have short cuddly moments, make out sessions before she pulls you into another round. Or vice versa.

It’s a back and forth, really.

She drags you outside to rail her in the balcony, the cool air hitting the both of you as the view of the beach greets you. Somi’s loud, uncaring of the nearby rooms as you pump her cunt full of another load.

You have her head dangling off the side of the bed, fucking her face, lodging your cock down her throat. Spit’s running down her face as she takes every inch of you, trying—and failing—to finger herself in time with your thrusts while you’re holding onto her tits until she can drink all of the cum that you’ll inevitably feed her.

Somi’s shoving you back down the couch, cock up her ass as she rides you. Her tits are fucking hypnotizing, and you’re latching onto one of her buds, sucking, swirling, nipping. She’s crying out, shoving you deeper into her cleavage as you fill her ass.

You’re fucking her on top of the table, her back scraping the wood. She’s pulling your hands to her tits, giving one of them a slap before pinching her hard nub, another staying down to rub her clit. You leave a kiss on her forehead as you cum together.

She’s on top of you again—on the bed this time—as she grinds her hips, her walls gripping, pulsing around your cock. She took it slow, deliberate, teasing, enjoying how much you’re squirming underneath her. Her nubs are brushing against your chest as she locks lips with yours, all tongue, until your legs lock up and you’re cumming inside her.

The hotel was a complete mess by the time you two were done.

You ended up back on the bed, the both of you spent. Your cock is aching from the amount of times you came in the last few (How long were you two fucking?) hours while her cunt’s leaking all the cum you’ve dumped inside of her.

Somi’s draping an arm over your chest, her fingers tracing shapes on your skin. That ring you gave her never came off the entire night.

“Nine’s a hell of a record.” She smiles, curling up to you, breathing heavy from all the activities. “Best night of my life.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, playing with her hair. “Tell that to my dick.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.” She slaps your chest, light, teasing. “You loved it.”

“You’re not wrong.” You leave a kiss on her forehead. “I do.”

“Love you too.” She smiles, reaching up to give you a kiss. She’s warm, that tingly feeling rising out of your stomach. You’re both grinning into the kiss, slow, deep, hands cupping her face, hers resting on your chest.

The next few minutes were spent talking about the random things that crossed your minds.

Shit like showers—

“We’re gonna need another shower.” 

“I’m too sore.”

“I can probably carry–”

“...I take it back. I can’t move either.”

Getting Aeri back for ratting you out—

“You seriously think Aeri would hook up with him of all people?”

“I mean, they kinda already did.”

“What the hell, since when?”

“The night after they fucked–”

“Don’t be a smartass, Romeo.”

The plans tomorrow—

“We’re hitting the beach tomorrow.”

“You just want to see me in a bikini.”

“And maybe dunk you in the water. But yeah. Bikini.”

Somi being a lovingly clingy idiot for the first time—

“Love me.”

“I am loving you.”

“You’re not doing it enough.”

It was dumb, pointless, and sorta ironic. From the quiet moments that you wanted and the copious amounts of sex you tried to avoid, it felt oddly worth it.

And it was just the first day. You don’t know whether you should be jumping for joy or scared for your life.

But you can’t say that you can ask for anything else—

“Wanna have another go to round it up?”

“Somi–”

Now, if there is such a word that combines happiness and fear, that would be what you’re feeling right now.

Still worth it.

[niteshade925]

April 20, Beijing, China, National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆 (Part 1 - Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展):

Aaand finally, the National Museum of China/中国国家博物馆! I was lucky enough to see the famed Dehua white porcelain exhibition/德化白瓷展 here. Some of you may recognize some of these pieces already, since pictures and shorts of them have been circulating online way before I went on this trip, but there are many many other pieces too. The pieces I post here are only a small portion of the entire exhibition, so if you ever get a chance to see the exhibition elsewhere in person, don't hesitate. This stuff is amazing.

First up is one of the two that has been gaining popularity online, the piece named 神话 or "Legend".

The first time I saw a porcelain piece like this, I thought that the clothing part was made with paper? But no, the light fabric of the clothing, the hair, it's all porcelain. Keep in mind when looking through these pictures: every part of every piece is porcelain.

This piece is the other one that was becoming popular, the piece named simply 纸, or "Paper". If you don't look up close and see the glossy surface, you can't tell it's actually porcelain. I cannot for the life of me imagine the kind of magic that was used to turn clay into this

Anyway, this is a good point to introduce Dehua porcelain a little bit. Dehua porcelain is a regional specialty of Dehua/德化, which is located in Fujian province, and is known for its expressiveness and white color. For this reason it's also known in the West as "Blanc de Chine" (French: "white of China"), and this should be the reason why this exhibition is named 中国白, which basically means the same thing. The history of Dehua porcelain goes back to Song dynasty (960 - 1279), and it is still being produced today. Many of the pieces I'm posting here are modern pieces.

But Dehua white porcelain can be colored too (I imagine the color must be painted on later, because the white comes from the clay itself), and when it is colored, it looks like it came right out of a painting

This piece is especially amazing to me. Look at the texture, look at those details. Zoom in and you will find that there are actually a bunch of porcelain ants on this porcelain tree stump. Porcelain ants. I never expected to use porcelain as an adjective when describing ants. Wtf. It's like a manifestation of a scene from an older animated movie.

Peanuts are called 花生 in Chinese, which literally means "flower grow", and because it also has a long shelf life, it symbolizes longevity and a happy marriage. Also a fun fact: because Watson of Sherlock Holmes is usually phoenetically translated as 华生 (huá shēng) in Chinese and sounds similar to 花生 (huā shēng), you will find that many in the Chinese SH fandom refers to Watson as "peanut".

This piece is titled 春色满园, or "garden filled with spring scenery". This is also a common 4-character word used to describe gardens in spring. I'm guessing the figure depicted here is one of the flower gods. It is one of my personal favorites because of its superb depiction of movement, it's as if the flower god will really fly away on clouds at any moment

More depictions of traditional Chinese deities, specifically Chang'e/嫦娥, the moon goddess. That moon rabbit is too cute.

Depictions of what I'm assuming is the Four Heavenly Kings/四大天王, based on the items they are holding. The Four Heavenly Kings are Buddhist deities.

Look at her clothing! That porcelain is so thin it's almost see-through! Also is it depicting Li Qingzhao/李清照, the famous female poet from Song dynasty? She does have a famous ci poem that's about paddling a boat in a lake full of lotuses while drunk

The piece titled 锦绣前程, or "future as vibrant and prosperous as silk brocade". This is also a common 4-character word used in well wishing. The figure in this piece is holding a xiuqiu/绣球, a ball made of silk, which was usually seen as a token of love

Somewhat more modern-themed pieces:

Among the hundreds of amazing pieces, this one caught my attention for its unique texture. When everyone else was trying to turn the clay into these thin sheets representing fabric or paper or flower petals, this artist took the noodle approach. Not many visitors seemed to like it, but I think it's pretty cool

Piece titled 运势如虹, or "fortune like the rainbow", also a 4-character word used in well wishing. Traditionally horses symbolize vitality and success, hence why many people use the words 马到成功 ("horse's arrival brings success") and 龙马精神 ("vitality of dragons and horses") in well wishes during Year of the Horse

Stay tuned for Part 2 of the Dehua white porcelain exhibition!

[luvergirl-535]

say when

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.0k

c/w - light smut, they get a little emo lol sorry

a/n - hi! as always, pls lmk what yall think, i love to hear from you guys <33 hope u enjoy babies. also, based off this prompt

paige bueckers is amazing at basically everything she’s ever done.

singing? they don’t call her p-yoncé for nothing. sports? she’s got trophies from every single one. basketball? her nil money speaks for itself. ipad? oh, she is so good at ipad. don’t even get her started about ipad.

she takes a lot of pride in her many, many talents. and her biggest one? the one she spends every day of her entire life living up to?

being azzi fudd’s dutiful, loyal, obsessed girlfriend.

so, one summer, when paige was in high school, her little sister got sick and their mom made paige stay home to babysit. which paige wouldn’t have minded, except it meant she had to sit on the couch and watch a full day’s worth of barbie life in the dreamhouse episodes. which is about five seasons too many, if you were to ask teenage paige.

but there was this sub-plot of the show (not that the show had a plot to begin with) in which barbie’s (boyfriend? side piece? fwb? paige has never been too sure), ken, is like, obsessed with her. his world revolves around her. so much so that he has this thing called ‘barbie senses’, and he literally senses when she needs help.

later that night, as paige complained to azzi over facetime about the stupid show and how she’d watched enough in one day to last her a lifetime, azzi had told paige that she’s like ken. when cool, nonchalant, totally-not-crushing-on-her-best-friend paige had replied incredulously, azzi’d just laughed and said, “you are. like with me. you have…azzi senses.” when she’d followed up with, “you just always know when i need you,” paige had internally declared that maybe the stupid show wasn’t so stupid after all.

even now, all these many years later, the sentiment sticks with paige. she’d never tell azzi, as she knows her girlfriend would tease her to an early grave about it, but she keeps it tucked away as one of her (again, many) talents.

and, well, paige’s azzi senses have been tingling for awhile now.

the tension started this morning, when paige had missed her alarm and woken up to a missed call. she’d texted her girlfriend good morning, letting her know she had to rush to class and that she’d call her later, which led azzi to believe she was purposely ignoring her, which got paige a little defensive, which ended in a baby argument. they said their i love you’s before hanging up but they haven’t really texted all day and paige doesn’t feel good about it.

maybe the tension actually started last night, when paige accidentally woke azzi up while she was sneaking out of her bed. she’d tried to be quiet, but her girlfriend ran a tight ship and woke up as soon as she realized paige was gone.

“what’re you doing?” she’d grumbled, and paige winced at how she already sounded cranky, likely due to the long day they’d had and the fact her knee was bothering her.

“uh,” paige said, and considered just crawling back into bed, but she really needed to be in her own room tonight, “i got classes early as hell, mama. i gotta sleep in my own bed.”

all of a sudden, azzi seemed much more awake than she did thirty seconds before. which scared paige, just a little. “what, you don’t sleep well with me or something?”

which in turn annoyed paige a little. “nah, baby, you know it’s not like that.”

to which azzi had sighed and turned over, her back facing paige as she huffed about something or other. paige didn’t let herself take it too serious, sure her girlfriend was just tired, and had given her a few kisses and an apology before leaving.

if she’s being honest with herself (which is not one of paige’s many talents, if you were wondering), the tension started a week ago, when azzi landed on her knee wrong in practice and got so scared that when they took her back to examine her, she ended up clawing at her own chest, unable to breathe, telling paige that she ‘can’t do this again, oh my god, i can’t fucking do this again, please.’

it was nothing, a minor sprain that happened to hurt a lot, and everybody was incredibly fucking relieved. but azzi was still benched for the week as a precaution, and her already fucked-up knee was bothering her more than a healthy knee would, and whenever paige tried to bring it up she’d say something along the lines of, “it’s fine, paige, just scared me a little.”

so, yeah. paige’s azzi senses are tingling bad. it’s almost painful. she’s decided, now that it’s friday, to have a date night. when she calls, she’s a little afraid azzi won’t even pick up, all things considered, but she does on the first ring.

“hey,” azzi says, voice a little unreadable.

“hey, baby,” paige replies, checking her mirrors before turning into the parking lot. “i, uh, was thinkin’ we could do something tonight. we haven’t had a date night in awhile.”

“a date night?” there’s silence, and then a sigh crackling through the speakers of paige’s car. “i don’t know if i’m up to go out, p.”

“no, no, i know,” paige rushes to say, steering into a parking spot and switching her audio to her phone before turning the car off. “sorry, can you hear me?”

“uh-huh.”

“well, i was jus’ thinking a movie night. i’m out right now, i’ma get some snacks, and you could pick a movie. i just…” trying to tread carefully here, she sighs, glancing out the window before back at her phone, “i know it’s been a rough week, and i miss you.”

another moment of silence, enough to make paige worry that azzi is more upset than she originally thought, but then, “i miss you too.” azzi sounds almost sheepish when she says, “i’m sorry—about this morning, and last night. i feel bad.”

“you know it’s all good, mama,” paige replies. “we can talk about it when i get there, m’kay? but we’re good.”

“yeah?”

“always.”

✮✮✮

paige stands in the chip aisle, sends her seventh text of the evening, and thinks they will definitely not be okay if azzi keeps leaving her on delivered.

barbecue? sour cream & onion? salt & vinegar?

…jalapeño?

no response.

baby please i can’t decide

help. me.

still nothing.

she considers just grabbing all of them, but then she’ll look unhinged at checkout, and she’s already made intense eye contact with an old woman who saw her talking to herself by the kettle chips. she has to leave, like, an hour ago.

“aight,” she mutters aloud, trying her hardest to decide which chips are the sexiest. “barbecue is classic but is it like, hot? sour cream & onion? shit, bad breath. uh…salt & vinegar? ew, never mind.” she presses her lips together, hands on her hips as she surveys the options. “you know what? azzi’s yummy. azzi’s kettle-cooked jalapeño.”

(back in her dorm, azzi pauses her book mid-sentence and wonders briefly if paige will bring kettle-cooked jalapeño chips. she really hopes paige will bring kettle-cooked jalapeño chips).

✮✮✮

paige lets herself in quietly, careful not to drop any of the grocery bags she’s juggling. the last thing she needs is for azzi to catch her slipping with a plastic tub of movie theater popcorn and calling her ‘uncoordinated’ again. which was extremely offensive the first time it happened and paige’s ego just can’t take another hit like that.

the dorm is dim, warm. cozy in that particular way azzi always manages to make it—unicorn plushies left out, pink throw pillows just slightly askew, vanilla candles melted down to the wick. paige sets the bags down and gets to work in the kitchen, pulling out bowls and cups and wondering briefly whether coach would cry if he saw the pure amount of salt and sugar laid before her.

“hey,” ice says, walking into the kitchen wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. “watchu being loud for?”

“it’s eight o’clock on a friday,” paige replies, pulling out the flowers and plushie she got for azzi. “can you help me carry some of this?”

ice’s gaze wanders over the gifts. “did y’all fight?”

“no. seriously, help me out.”

“really?” ice takes the cups in one hand and a bowl in the other. “because she was acting like a bitch this morning and we couldn’t figure out why.”

“yo,” paige says, raising an eyebrow.

ice rolls her eyes. “sorry, she was acting like a butthead this morning.”

“still offensive,” paige replies, pressing her lips together as she focuses on simultaneously holding two bowls, a teddy bear, and the bouquet. “and still no. we just had a little argument, but we’re cool.”

they begin walking down the hallway, and ice takes a sip from what’s supposed to be azzi’s cup. “so the gifts are for…?”

“she’s had a hard week,” paige says, lowering her voice as they get closer to azzi’s room.

“with her knee?” ice asks.

“i think so, yeah. that’s kinda what i’m tryna figure out.” they come to a stop in front of azzi’s door, and paige hovers for a moment, hands-less, until ice realizes and reaches out to help her.

inside, the room smells like body spray and azzi’s hair products. her led lights are on, set to the soft pink she likes to sleep with, and azzi’s an adorable-looking lump under the covers. paige has to physically refrain herself from squealing.

ice sets the snacks on azzi’s bedside, mutters a sarcastic, “don’t have too much fun,” and exits, leaving the two of them alone.

paige sets her things down, too, and carefully arranges them before sitting on the bed, gently jostling azzi’s shoulder. “az, hey,” she whispers, trying not to startle her and feeling a little bad for waking her at all. “lemme see you, baby.”

azzi grumbles a little, and paige may or may not get war flashbacks from last night, but then azzi is turning onto her back and smiling sleepily up at her even as her eyes stay closed.

“goofy,” paige says, brushing her fingers tenderly over azzi’s cheek. “why you tryna fall asleep on our date night?”

azzi’s smile turns a little guilty as she says, “i needed a power nap,” but then she’s wrapping her arms around paige’s neck and pulling her down for a kiss and she’s never been anything but perfect.

“fair,” paige mutters against her lips. “i hope it was powerful, because i come bearing gifts.”

finally, azzi opens her eyes. “oh?”

paige laughs, reaching for the stuffy and flowers and holding them on her lap. she watches as her girlfriend shifts until she’s sitting against the headboard, unable to keep herself from smiling softly at the rumpled, sleepy image of her before clearing her throat and nodding down at her lap. “know the flowers from last time were wilting, and you mentioned how you needed another baby…”

paige isn’t sure why she still feels like this around azzi, her long-term girlfriend of three years—why she still gets all nervous and blushy with her, when paige isn’t one to get nervous and blushy at all. but who can blame her, when azzi is beautiful and perfect and looking at her like that.

several beats pass before azzi gently pushes the flowers and plushie aside and wraps her arms around paige’s neck, tugging until paige hugs her back.

“thank you,” she says into paige’s neck. “i don’t…i just…”

“you don’t gotta say anything.” paige presses a kiss to her shoulder. “i know.”

azzi shakes her head. “no, but—i do.” she looks paige in the eye, keeping them closely connected even as she pulls away from her skin. “it’s just. i feel like i’ve been kinda shitty lately.”

“you haven’t,” paige says immediately, brushing her thumb over azzi’s arm. “you’re having a hard week, baby. doesn’t make you shitty. just human.”

azzi hums, unconvinced. “i’ve been short with you.”

“okay, a little snappy,” paige teases, and azzi groans, hiding her face in paige’s neck. “but it’s okay. i know you’re not mad at me. i’m just tryna understand what you need, so i can show up for you better.”

azzi exhales against her skin. “you already do.”

“good,” paige says, kissing the top of her head. “then stop stressin’ about it and come eat chips with me.”

azzi perks up. “chips?”

“i was stressed over which ones to buy, actually.” paige pulls back and grabs the bowl from the bedside table, holding it up like a trophy. “kettle-cooked jalapeño.“

azzi gasps. “no way.” she presses another kiss to paige’s lips. “how’d you know?”

azzi senses. “oh, y’know, just a good guess.”

azzi looks over the other snacks on the nightstand before saying, “you didn’t get sour cream and onion?”

“bad breath chips? absolutely not.”

“smart move.”

“yep. i also got movie theater popcorn, peanut m&ms, sour patch kids, and—brace yourself—a slurpee.”

azzi gasps. “from the gas station?”

“yes, and i made eye contact with a man who was, like, mid-psychotic break. that’s how much i love you.”

azzi leans over and kisses her again, gentle and grateful, and murmurs, “thank you,” into her lips.

“don’t mention it,” paige says, already sidling up beside azzi and tucking herself under the covers. “now pick a movie before i force us to rewatch high school musical 2.”

“we’re already halfway through it on my disney plus,” azzi confesses.

“this is why we’re dating.”

✮✮✮

they don’t end up watching high school musical 2, because azzi insists it’ll make her week worse. and they don’t watch frozen, either, because paige just can’t. so, they compromise, and an hour later the room is cast in blue from the tv, love & basketball playing on low volume. azzi has what appears to be approximately 1,000 stuffed animals surrounding her, claiming they ‘missed her’. (“they miss you, too, paige,” she says when paige looks at her judgmentally. “you’re like an absent father.”) paige decides to ignore that and, though she pouts about not being able to cuddle, she gets comfortable in azzi’s bed like she’s apart of it, sprawled out with a hand in the chip bowl.

they’ve been trading lazy commentary, chatting about silly things throughout the movie, considering it’s one they’ve both seen a million times. after a particular comment about how brutal practice was this week, paige shifts, leaning up on one elbow so she can glance down at azzi’s leg. “how’s the knee?” she asks quietly.

azzi hums noncommittally. “fine,” she says, but there’s a little wince as she stretches. “sore.”

“lemme see,” paige says, already sliding a hand under the blanket. she finds azzi’s leg by feel, curling her palm around her calf before slowly moving up, thumb brushing over the joint with practiced care.

“you don’t have to—”

“shh,” paige says, grinning. “don’t tell me what to do, mama. i wanna help.”

azzi snorts, but the sound melts into something softer when paige starts to knead around the edge of her kneecap, working slow, rhythmic circles into the muscle. she exhales, long and low, eyes fluttering shut as her body relaxes more fully into the pillows.

“good?” paige murmurs, shifting closer. she moves the stuffies out of the way in order to ghost her lips along azzi’s shoulder.

“mm-hmm,” azzi replies, voice suddenly a little breathier. “really good.”

paige’s hand keeps moving, a little more deliberate now, trailing higher up her thigh beneath the covers. her fingertips drag slow lines against azzi’s skin, almost absentminded, but there’s nothing absent about the way azzi shifts her hips, just barely, or the way her breath catches when paige presses a kiss to her jaw.

“you always do this,” azzi whispers, head tilting toward her. “start all innocent.”

paige lets out a little laugh, brushing her nose against azzi’s cheek. “i literally asked about your injury.”

“yeah, and now you’re halfway up my thigh.”

“can’t help it if you keep makin’ those noises,” paige says, voice going low and playful as her hand slows to a stop, palm resting heavy against azzi’s skin. “not my fault you sound so good, baby.”

azzi turns her head then, mouth catching paige’s in a kiss that’s slow and familiar, but it heats up faster than most their kisses do. it might have something to do with all the tension from the week, or the argument this morning, or the make-up—maybe a mix of everything—but it’s open-mouthed and messy within minutes. azzi’s hand slides into paige’s hair as she shifts to pull her closer, deepening the kiss just enough to make paige exhale hard through her nose.

she pulls away, smiling when azzi chases after her but keeping her face just out of reach. “hold on,” she breathes, resting her forehead against azzi’s.

“you good?” azzi asks, nudging their noses together.

“uh-huh. just…gotta stop before i can’t.”

“who said anything about stopping?” azzi asks, low and teasing.

paige pulls back to look at her. “i didn’t think you’d want it.”

azzi looks at her like she’s crazy. “‘course i do. why wouldn’t i?”

“with everything going on,” paige explains, soothing her hand up and down azzi’s thigh. “didn’t think you were in a good headspace right now.”

“i’m good, paige,” azzi assures, sounding just a little exasperated at how often she’s had to tell paige that, but she only keeps asking because she never quite believes her when she sees it.

“okay,” paige says, “you gotta promise me, though, aight? if you’re not into it, tell me that.”

“paige,” azzi sighs, and then she’s cupping her face in her hands and pulling her in and kissing her again, kissing her in a way that makes her feel raw. when she pulls back, they’re both breathing heavy. “please, baby,” she whispers. “want you.”

that’s all it takes to crumble whatever was left of paige’s self-control. she shifts until azzi’s flat on her back and pushes the rest of the damn stuffies away in a rush before leaning down to kiss her again. azzi sighs this soft little moan into her mouth and paige is already dripping into her boxers.

paige’s lips trail down azzi’s jawline, kissing a slow path until she reaches the hollow at the base of her neck. her fingers twitch with a quiet urgency, slipping beneath the waistband of azzi’s boxers, fingertips grazing the warm, sensitive skin of her mound. azzi’s breath hitches—a soft, unguarded sound that makes paige’s heart hammer a little faster.

the room feels smaller, warmer, wrapped in the quiet hum of the movie and their mingled breaths. paige’s fingers explore, gentle but insistent, sliding into azzi’s cunt just enough to gather the juices there before bringing them up to her clit and circling softly.

azzi’s eyes flutter shut, lashes resting against flushed cheeks as she exhales slowly. her fingers curl into paige’s t-shirt, gripping lightly, as paige continues to work her over. she uses her free hand to ruck azzi’s sweater up, just enough to expose the soft skin of her belly, and she pulls back to look, exhaling at the sight: azzi’s piercing glinting, paige’s hand moving beneath her boxers. she moves away from her clit to dip inside again, not far, just enough to coat a finger in azzi’s slick before she carefully extracts her hand.

azzi whimpers at the loss of contact, but paige just shakes her head, bringing her hand up to her lips and sucking the arousal off her finger. she’s missed how azzi tastes, and she moans at it before ducking down to press a kiss to azzi’s stomach with a new purpose in mind.

“paige,” azzi whines as paige lays herself out between her thighs.

“i wanna eat you, mami,” paige replies, sucking a small mark into brown skin. “that okay?”

when she looks back up, azzi’s staring at her, and there’s something there that paige can’t quite read, which is—well, it’s alarming, considering she can always read her girlfriend, especially when it comes to this. but then azzi’s nodding, desperation washing over her features, and paige can still taste the remnants of her, and she needs more.

“please, paige,” azzi sighs, pressing against her shoulders to urge her down. “need you.”

“tell me if it’s too much, baby,” paige murmurs, shifting lower to press a kiss to the delicate skin of azzi’s thigh. “i want to make you feel good.”

azzi’s response is a shaky breath and a whispered, “please.”

paige nods, kissing her thighs gently as she removes her boxers, allowing azzi to kick them the rest of the way off as she turns back to her center. paige spreads her open, blowing a little onto her clit until it twitches, and when azzi whines she leans forward to suck it into her mouth.

paige groans low at the taste, sharp and metallic from the earlier teasing, before flicking her tongue over it. azzi’s hips buck up just a little, and she slings an arm across her abdomen to keep her from moving. her tongue moves lower, dipping into her cunt where the taste is the strongest. she honest-to-god salivates a little, and she moans again, using her free hand to loop around azzi’s thigh and pull her closer.

azzi’s breath catches, soft little moans spilling out between quiet pants, and paige will never love anything more than her sounds, the way her hips struggle to move against paige’s grip, the way her hands tighten in paige’s hair.

she takes her arm off azzi’s stomach, lifting her head enough to look at her. “stay still f’me, okay?”

azzi nods frantically against the pillow. paige presses a smile into her thigh before easing two fingers inside of her slowly. azzi gasps, surprised, and then hides a moan in her palm—though azzi’s roommates have definitely heard them by now.

paige moves steady and patient, like always. her fingers move slow and sure, not rushing to build her up, while her mouth presses lazy kisses against her cunt. every now and then, she glances up, and her whole face softens at the sight of azzi laid out for her, chest rising and falling a little faster now, lips parted in that way that always makes paige want to come back up and kiss her.

she lets her teeth graze her clit, just to hear the sharp inhale it pulls, then goes right back to her work—her fingers curling just right, wrist flexing in little deliberate strokes like she’s trying to memorize her.

“you’re doing so good,” paige murmurs, voice a little syrupy, chin tucked against azzi’s thigh. her free hand strokes gently up azzi’s stomach, and she frowns slightly at the tension she finds there. “you gotta relax for me, sweetheart.”

azzi moans softly, but her muscles still feel tightly clenched and it has paige moving up, fingers working steadily inside her as she shifts so she can press gentle kisses to her mouth. “i got you, az,” she whispers, kissing her cheek tenderly. “you can relax, baby girl. it’s okay.”

azzi nods. moans as paige’s fingers hit that spongy spot inside her, but then sound turns into something different, something frustrated, and then it’s almost like a sob. and it’s enough for paige to pause.

“hey,” she says softly, slowing her hand but not pulling away. “are you okay, baby?”

azzi doesn’t answer right away. her eyes are open, unfocused, lips parted like she’s trying to figure out how to explain something she doesn’t really understand herself.

“i…” her voice breaks. “i’m sorry. i’m trying, i just—i can’t.”

paige freezes, her hand still warm between azzi’s thighs. her stomach drops.

“what? hey, no, no, don’t be sorry,” she says quickly, pulling her fingers out carefully and wincing when azzi does. “talk to me, mama—what’s wrong? did i hurt you?”

azzi shakes her head, blinking fast. “no, it’s not you. i just—i don’t know. it’s like i’m too in my head or something. i want to, it feels good, but i can’t focus.”

“you should’ve told me,” paige says, quieter now. she wonders how long azzi let her go for after she realized she wasn’t into it, and it kind of makes her stomach drop. “i told you to say something if you weren’t into it. would you have even—would you have even said anything if i hadn’t asked if you were okay?”

“i don’t know,” azzi says, and now her voice does wobble. she wipes at her cheeks with the backs of her hands like that’ll stop the tears from coming, but they keep slipping anyway. “i don’t know, paige. i just…i didn’t wanna, like, ruin it.”

paige’s heart clenches hard at that. “ruin it?” she echoes, a little incredulous. “az, it’s not supposed to feel like pressure. this isn’t—you know that’s not what this is about.”

“i know,” azzi says again, and now she’s fully crying, eyes scrunching up as she tries to breathe through it. “i’m just—i’ve had such a shitty week and you were being so sweet, and i wanted to, i swear, i thought maybe it would help, but—” she chokes on the end of it, voice cracking. “i don’t know. i’m sorry.”

the guilt hits her all at once, because here she is lecturing her girlfriend while said girlfriend is having an emotional crisis and being probably the saddest crier paige has ever seen. she leans back down, hands gentle on azzi’s stomach as she presses a soft kiss to her trembling lips. “hey,” she whispers. “i don’t want you to say sorry, baby. it’s nothin’ you gotta apologize for.”

“but it’s never happened before,” azzi says, sounding like that alone is breaking her a little. “‘nd i dunno what’s going on with me for it to happen this time.”

paige swallows thickly, chest aching. she gathers azzi into her arms, moving them until azzi’s on her chest, cradling her head close.

“you shouldn’t be mad at yourself,” she murmurs after a moment. “it’s okay to be overwhelmed. especially when you’re, like, the busiest person on the planet and trying to be everything to everyone.”

azzi sniffles, curling tighter into her. her fingers twitch against paige’s ribs like she wants to hold her closer.

“i just didn’t wanna let you down,” she whispers.

“you didn’t let me down,” paige says immediately. she tilts her head enough to press a kiss to azzi’s temple, then another to her hairline. “you didn’t. i’m just—i’m upset because i didn’t know. because you waited until you were crying to let me know something was off.”

azzi doesn’t say anything. her breath hitches like she might cry again.

paige closes her eyes and leans her head back. “i need to ask you something, ‘kay?”

“okay,” azzi breathes.

“next time,” paige says softly, “if something feels off—even a little bit—you tell me. you don’t wait for me to ask. you tell me. i don’t care if we’re two seconds in or right at the edge or whatever. i need to know, baby. i can’t read your mind.”

“okay,” azzi says again, quieter, and then after a second, “i promise.”

paige nods, still holding her. “good. thank you.”

they stay like that for a moment. paige’s chest rises and falls slowly beneath azzi’s cheek. love & basketball plays softly, and they have had an impossible amount of moments just like this one while this very movie was playing on tv, and paige sort of wants to cry a little herself.

instead she brushes a knuckle under azzi’s chin and tips her head up just enough to look at her. “you didn’t ruin anything. you know that, right?”

“kinda feels like i did.”

“you didn’t,” paige says again. “we’re allowed to have bad nights. or hard nights. or nights where we start something and realize we need to stop. that’s actually, like, really fucking normal and i think you and i are just different from most people.”

azzi lets out a shaky laugh through her tears. “i hate that you’re right.”

“i know,” paige says with a little smile, tucking azzi’s hair behind her ear. “as usual.”

azzi groans softly and hides her face in paige’s neck again, still a little tear-sticky and snuffly, but the muscles in her shoulders finally relax as she lets paige hold her.

paige wraps both arms around her, settling them chest to chest, and lets her thumb rub slow circles over azzi’s back. “you wanna stay like this for a while?” she asks, voice low and close.

azzi nods into her neck. “don’t wanna move.”

“okay, mama,” paige whispers. “we’ll stay right here.”

for a few minutes, that’s exactly what they do—paige stroking her back, azzi breathing uneven against her throat, both of them held together in that soft, heavy quiet that only comes after a cry. and when azzi’s breathing finally starts to even out, when the tension starts to ease from her shoulders, she lifts her head.

“i hope you know i’m seriously considering offing myself,” she says, which startles a laugh out of paige.

“why?” she asks, pushing a curl from azzi’s tear-stained cheek.

“because we were having sex and then i cried.”

“you cried the first time we had sex.”

“that was an emotional moment.”

“you cried last month after that party.”

“i was shwasted.”

paige smiles, then kisses azzi’s pout. and usually paige hates it when people cry, because she feels awkward and unsure of what to do, but she is azzi fudd’s dutiful, loyal, obsessed girlfriend. “i think we can both agree that i’m good with you crying. please don’t kill yourself.”

“yeah, okay.” azzi sniffles, eyes red-rimmed but full of something warm now. “i love you,” she says, voice hoarse.

paige smiles, thumb brushing her cheek. “i love you more.”

and azzi just sighs, deep and tired and safe, before tucking herself right back into paige’s arms like she belongs there.

[norrissm]

⌗ everything warm survives — ln4

barista!lando x reader. fluff. slight angst.

summary. a storm takes over the city just as you’re about to leave and lando has an amazing idea to make the night better :) • BARISTA!LANDO • LIBRARY

the thing about loneliness is that you rarely ever feel it.

rarely feeling it creeping into your veins before it paralyses with you an existential dread that sweeps you into a void. it doesn’t arrive like a meteor or a freight train or a grand, sweeping gesture. it slips in quietly. like a drip.

like someone asking how you are and you almost crying because no one’s asked in a while. and lando notices it. you hate that he notices, but you love that he doesn’t point it out.

he’s the kind of person who looks at people like he’s reading a book he’s already fallen in love with. carefully. slowly. like he knows there’s something important in every sentence.

you’ve known him for three months. which is long enough to memorize the shape of his smile but not long enough to figure out what it means when he looks at you like he wants to say something and doesn’t.

you’re a regular at his café now. not by design, but because it’s warm and soft and smells like cinnamon and lando. and in a world that often feels like it’s on fire, those are good enough reasons to stay.

“cafes are like a third place,” lando had said once. “somewhere in between our house and our work. a place that feels entirely different but home at the same time.”

the night it happens, the night the city is folding into itself with a storm threatening to push you over the brink of the void you’re battling, you’re at the cafe. you shiver with the cold creeping in. having been there for over two hours while lando worked at the back ready for closing. the lights go off.

you shoot him a text.

if your espresso machine survives the apocalypse, can i crash at the café?

he texts backs immediately.

already getting the goods ;)

and so he does. emerging from the back with a handful of candles and a slight smile accompanied. the cafe is empty. people filtered out an hour ago.

thankfully lando made the warm lights work on batteries and not the main switch.

that’s when you really take in the cafe at night. warm bulbs strung across the ceiling. an old record player humming a jazz track that doesn’t know the name of. the storm outside like static—loud, chaotic, distant.

back in the booth of the cafe near the window littered with rogue raindrops, lando sits in front of you. having made two cups of coffee. a latte for you. with a heart.

“ever did this before?” you ask folding yourself into the cushioned chairs, the cold hitting you deeper now as the storm rode high.

“have a storm sleepover at the cafe?” he says. “nah it’s my first ever. but it seemed you needed to be here more than me.”

not knowing how to respond you sip on the drink and let the silence hold this moment, hoping to do it justice.

you sit inside and talk about things you usually don’t: his family back in bristol. your inability to finish books with sad endings. how silence used to scare you. how he doesn’t believe in soulmates but he does believe in timing.

“this place,” you say, voice barely above the hum of the fridge, “feels like what safety would taste like.”

lando laughs softly. “hazelnut and cinnamon?”

you nod. “with oat milk.”

at 2:43 a.m., you’re lying side by side under the fort. (lando built you one with spare sheets. “it’s for the ambience.” he said.)

lando whispers, “do you think we’re just… coffee in different mugs? all bitter and sweet and confused about temperature?”

you laugh, tired and cracked open in a way you haven’t let yourself be in months.

“i think,” you say, “you might be a little too philosophical for someone who sells banana bread.”

he grins. “says the girl who cried over latte art.”

you throw a pillow at him.

the morning arrives kinder than the night. showing mercy the world has gone delicate, people looming around the remnants of the storm. the birds are back at their daily routine and so is the cafe.

a whiff of cinnamon brews in the air and in front of you a note with banana bread. the bread fluffy and aromatic.

stay as long as you like. i’m in the back making you some cinnamon latte. — lan

you do.

and suddenly, the café isn’t your third place anymore. it’s your first.

because something about that night taught you: everything warm survives. even the little fire underneath our skins keeps us going.

and sometimes, someone hands you a drink that tastes like being wanted.

reblog and follow <3 all rights reserved ©️norrissm please do not copy, save, or translate my stories.

[bluetooththereptile]

Unwelcomed embrace (part two)

Yandere super family x neglected reader

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.

Tw: mentions of violence

"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."

You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"

"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."

"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."

"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."

"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"

You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.

Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.

Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.

But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.

The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.

You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.

The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!

"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

A Protector's Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: let's see now, oral (f receiving), marking, worship kink, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, Bucky is lowkey down bad and very open about it lmao also a teeny tiny bit of violence

Genre: fluff + smut

Summary: Things get pretty heated after a charity gala- your boyfriend needs to let off some steam and you're happy to play

A/N: I wrote this as an Easter gift to a friend of mine, no it has nothing to do with Easter, I will not explain further.

***

It's 7pm when Bucky comes through the front door of your shared apartment. He pops into your room and kisses your cheek quickly, bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Hi! Sorry I'm late, I need ten minutes to change and then we can get going, alright?" He says and you smile at him through the mirror you're using to do your makeup.

"That's fine my love, what time does this even start?"

"Dinner itself doesn't start until 8 but I'm pretty sure speeches and whatnot are 7:30." He says.

"Well it's a good thing you're not speaking then, go get changed." You tell him.

"I'll be quick." He says darting out and down the hall to his own room. You finish doing your makeup while Bucky changes, and soon enough you're walking out the door.

"You look amazing by the way darling." Bucky says as he opens the passenger door of the car for you.

"So do you my love." You wink at him, sliding into your seat. He winks back at you as he shuts your door. You watch him walk across to the driver's side and get in the car.

"I think that's my favorite color on you." He leans over the center consol to kiss your cheek.

"You say that about every color." You roll your eyes but you can't even pretend you're not smiling at his praise.

"I can't help it, you make every color look fantastic." He says and he means it. There's something about the way your brown skin glows in most everything you wear, as if it can bend light to make sure whatever color you don looks perfect against it.

Once he starts the vehicle and pulls out of the parking garage, he grabs your hand and places a kiss on the back of it before dropping your joined palms in his lap. Bucky likes to keep some sort of contact with you whenever he can. If you're not holding hands, his arm is around your shoulders, or across your back, or his leg is pressed against yours, at home likes to cuddle, which you love but the man is basically the temperature of a volcano, great in the winter, in the summer you have compromises, his head in your lap or your legs in his and legs locked together while you sleep.

You hum along to the radio as Bucky drives through the city. You and Bucky are headed to a charity gala tonight. He obviously didn't want to go but most of the team is showing up for the cause and you agreed to go with him as an incentive when Steve asked you to get him to come out at least for a little bit of it.

When you arrive at the gala, it seems the event is in fact already in full swing. Luckily there's an attendant to show you to your table.

"You made it." Steve says, relieved to see you and Bucky.

"Of course! I told you we would be here." You smile.

"Yeah but Bucky really didn't wanna come."

"True but Bucky would locate Excalibur if I asked him to." You say and Steve chuckles.

"You know I can hear you?" Bucky scoffs.

"Are you going to disagree?" You smile at him.

"Of course not." He kisses your temple though you catch him rolling his eyes playfully at you.

"I was worried when the speeches started and nobody saw you two." Steve admits.

"Took us a bit longer to get out of the house than we planned." You tell him.

"At least you're here."

"Wouldn't miss it."

"I would." Bucky muses.

"Oh shush." You chuckle.

"How many more of these are there gonna be?" Bucky asks Steve.

"How many more of what bud?"

"The speeches, I figured we'd have missed most of them and we'd be getting dinner soon." Bucky says.

"James!"

"What? It's been a long day. I wanna eat." He shrugs.

"I think there's like two more." Steve says.

"Damn."

"I think you'll survive 15 to 20 minutes baby." You pat him on the thigh.

"I'm hungry."

"You want a granola bar?" You're only half joking, you do actually have one in your purse, you always do in case you forget to eat.

"That'd be great." He says. You roll your eyes and pull the granola bar out of your purse and hand it to him. It'll probably appease him a little until dinner.

"You actually had a granola bar?" Steve blinks at you.

"I always do." You shrug.

"And I thought I was over prepared." He muses.

"Y/n's basically Mary Poppins." Natasha jokes.

"And what about it?" You wink.

"Maybe I ought to be asking you for more stuff y/n." Sam chuckles.

"Buzz off Wilson." You roll your eyes playfully.

Three more shortish speeches later, dinner finally starts making its way out of the kitchen. Bucky scarfs his food down pretty quickly while the rest of the table chatters through their meal. You catch up with the others, having been too busy to stop by the tower over the last few weeks. It's maybe 20 minutes later that the charity auction portion of the evening begins. The items include fancy art, pretty jewelry, lavish vacations, sports gear, all sorts of desirable things for people to battle over with their numbered paddles. Tony gets really invested in the bidding war for a couple of the items.

"We should go." Bucky says quietly a little while later. You check the small watch on your wrist. It's only been an hour and a half since you arrived and they're not even halfway through the auction items.

"Why?" You frown. You obviously don't care about the auction stuff, but when that part is done they'll start playing music and you'll get to dance, which is literally the only reason to come to these things.

"I don't like the way that guy is looking at you." He mutters.

"What guy?" You try to follow Bucky's eye line across the room.

"Don't look." Bucky says putting a hand on your knee.

"Okay. I won't look, but I have to ask, is this you don't like the way he's looking at me because he's a prick or because you're being... territorial?"

"Does it matter?" Bucky frowns.

"A little bit, if you think the guy is going to be mean to me we can leave, if you're feeling jealous I want to dance before we go, so I'm not leaving early because you're all broody and possessive." You say.

"I'm not broody."

"Yeah you are, you don't wanna be here, now you're coming up with excuses to leave prematurely." You say. Bucky sighs.

"You want to dance?" He asks.

"For a little bit at least."

"Fine, but if that fucking guy-"

"If he does anything we'll go." You compromise.

"Alright. We'll stay so we can dance. As long as that guy doesn't pull anything."

"Deal." You say giving him a quick kiss. The auction goes on for another 30ish minutes before they finally start playing music.

"Ready to dance baby?" Bucky asks.

"Yes!" You hop up from your seat and grab Bucky's hand, pulling him out of his chair too. He's happy to follow you as you take him to the designated dance floor.

"Hey sweetheart, why don't you come dance with me for a little while?"

You startle a bit at the sound of a man's voice from behind you.

"Oh- no thank you." You say politely.

"Come on, it's just a dance." He smirks and it makes you very uncomfortable.

"Buzz off fuckhead." Bucky says, shoving him away from you so hard that the guy hits the ground. The people closest to you gasp as they notice him fall. He scrambles to his feet angrily.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He huffs. Oh gosh this is definitely going to get out of hand quickly.

"My problem is you're making my partner uncomfortable you asshole." Bucky glares at him.

"Yeah? She didn't seem all that bugged."

"Are you dense?" Bucky scoffs. You grab Bucky's arm to get his attention.

"Let's leave baby. Like we agreed." You whisper. You see Bucky contemplate if he's gonna pick a fight with this guy.

"You're a piece of shit." Bucky says to the guy before placing his hand on your back and leading you out of the event.

"Was that last quip needed?" You chuckle as Bucky opens the car door for you and helps you into the vehicle.

"Absolutely. Dude was a piece of shit and he should know it." He says shutting the door. You watch him walk over and get in on the driver's side, anger still clearly radiating within him. You grab his hand and place a kiss on the back of it. His shoulders relax slightly.

"I should've broken that fucker's nose." He grumbles and you giggle.

"I don't think that would've gone well baby."

"He deserved way worse than that."

"Hey, I'm okay. He didn't hurt me. He couldn't possibly hurt me with you protecting me." You smile at him.

"I shouldn't have even let him get close enough to speak to you."

"Don't do that, don't beat yourself up. You know very well I can take care of myself."

"I know you can but you shouldn't have to. Not when I'm there." Bucky sighs.

"I didn't have to! You took care of me very well in there. I like it when you get all big bad and dangerous over me." You say drawing figure 8s along his thigh. He glances down at your hand momentarily.

"Big bad and dangerous?" Bucky quirks an eyebrow up at you.

"Yeah, it's hot when you're acting protective."

"I'm driving." He reminds you.

"I noticed." You hum, still tracing.

"You're distracting me." He says melodically. He's warning you almost in song.

"Well I thought I'd be more tired before we left, but because I didn't really get to dance before that guy ruined my fun, I have a lot of energy I need to get rid of before going to bed."

"I'm more than happy to help with that once we get home, but if you keep doing that we might not make it that far."

"Hm, you think there's enough room in the back seat?" You look over your shoulder.

"Dammit y/n." Bucky grits out. "10 minutes, just- 10 minutes princess."

"That's too long."

"You make it that 10 minutes I'll fuck you til you can't breathe."

"Promise?"

"Don't I do it often enough already?"

"Fair point." You shrug.

"So be a good girl and I'll give you anything you want."

You place your hand in your lap for the remainder of the ride home and Bucky makes that 10 minutes go by in far less than 10 minutes. Before you know it, he's practically yanking you out of the car and into the elevator of your apartment building. He crowds you in the elevator, attacking your throat with kisses and bites, sucking marks into your dark skin, enjoying the whimpers falling from your lips. When the doors open on your floor, Bucky lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles, as he walks you down the hall.

He opens the door to your apartment, far too quickly you realize.

"Did you break the door?"

"I'll fix it in the morning." Bucky says still kissing at your exposed skin. You laugh in disbelief, he's lucky the whole building thinks he's terifying because the's ridiculously unsafe. Bucky sets you down in his bedroom to unzip your dress.

"Fucking hell you are beautiful." He says looking at you for a moment. He lays you on the bed and tugs you to the edge of the bed. He drops to his knees between your legs, kissing slowly up your thigh.

"Bucky don't tease me." You pout. You feel him smile against your skin before turning his attention to your dripping wet cunt. He takes a slow, long lick over your slit and he groans, deep in his throat. He dives back in, quickly, ferverously, drinking you like the source of his life.

You bury your hands in his hair, grind against his tongue as he devours you. He circles your clit, fucks you with his tongue, moans and grunts as if he's tasted nothing better. He loops his arms around your thighs, holding you open, burying his face deeper against your center. You feel your orgasm build in your gut, throw your head back, arch closer to his mouth, chase the touch of his tongue against you.

"God! It feels so good. Don't stop!" You cry out tugging harshly at his hair still between your fingers. His eyes are on you, watching as he takes you closer and closer to the edge, until you're falling over it with a moan. Bucky doesn't stop as your orgasm subsides, he pulls you closer, makes his tongue heavier, works your body harder. Your moans turn to desperate whines, your body twitches torn between grinding closer and squriming away but unable to do either as he places one hand on your belly to hold you in place.

His other hand joins his mouth between your legs. He starts with one finger, slowly pumping in and out, curling up against the spongy tissue with each stroke. The added stimulation is maddening, you're writhing more, moaning louder, panting harder, your head is spinning.

Bucky pulls another orgasm from you and then a third before he finally gives you a moment of reprieve. He licks his fingers with his eyes locking you in place.

"Fuck I could spend the rest of my life making you cum on my tongue you taste so good." Bucky says standing up to shuck off his clothes. Moments later he's leaning over you, kissing you deeply. You can taste yourself on his lips and you wrap your arms around him, one hand back in his hair while the other rests on his back.

"I need you inside me." You mutter into the kiss and Bucky groans at your words. He reaches between you to line himself up with your entrance. He sinks into your walls with a gutteral sound that makes your insides clench around him.

"Fucking hell." He says with a shuttering breath. When Bucky begins to roll his hips forward, it's slow, deep, infuriating. It's not enough.

"Bucky, please, move faster." You whine, hips grinding up to meet his. Bucky grabs you by the thighs, folding you practically in half before setting a brutal pace. He fucks into you hard and fast, practically growling as he relishes in the feel of your wet heat.

"Is this what you wanted baby?" He huffs out, keeping his ryhthm steady.

"Yes! Please don't stop. Oh god!" You cry out, nails digging into the skin of his back.

"That's it baby, take it like a good girl, fuck you're so perfect."

"So- good." You pant, whimpers punctuating your incomplete sentence. Bucky doesn't let up, pumping you furiously, relishing in the sounds of pleasure tumbling endlessly from your beautiful lips.

"God I love you." Bucky sighs dipping his head down until his forehead touches yours. His grip on your thighs tightens, his thrusts are harsher, more erradic, he must be close.

"Show me how much baby." You say stroking his cheek, your breathing mixing with his in the small gap between your faces. He groans at your words pumping into you harder.

"You're so gorgeous. I can't get enough of you. I'd do anything for you. You're everything to me." Every desperate word whispered from Bucky's lips to yours drowns you in pleasure even further.

"You're so good to me." You moan. Bucky slips one hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. You shriek, jolt, claw into his back as he pushes you closer to the edge with tight circles against you.

"Cum for me princess, please, let me feel you cum on my dick. Let me feel how good it is for you." Bucky coaxes your orgasm from you with his words and soom you're clenching around him, crying out, clutching him tightly, leaving marks across his back, milking his cock for all it's worth nad you know he's seconds away from spilling into you.

"Let go baby, I want you to fill me up, you feel my pussy asking for it, don't you?" It's your turn to coax him, even through labored breaths, the empennage of your orgasm still affecting you.

"F-fucking hell." Bucky stutters out. With that it only takes a couple more frantic thrusts before he's spilling into you with a shuddering moan, his entire body shaking from his orgasm and the liquid fire flooding your walls feels too good to not moan as you run your fingers through his hair, gently pulling him to fully lay on top of you.

 There's a stretch of silence as you both catch your breath. Bucky's weight on top of you in comforting even as sweat sticks your skin to each others. Your cunt still spasming around his dick causes cum to spill out and you feel it dripping from your folds. Still, you're in no rush to lose this closeness anytime soon, not when you can feel his heartbeat pounding against yours.

"No luckier day have I had than the one I met you." Bucky finally says after a while.

"I hope you know just how much I love you Bucky." You say.

"And I'll do everything in my power to make sure I deserve it."

"You do deserve it dummy, but I'm not about to tell you to stop pampering me." You chuckle.

"I wouldn't even if you did. After all, when you're lucky enough to have a goddess notice you, you'd better worship her while you can." He places light kisses over your neck and collarbone.

"Well, you do a marvelous job so I'm definitely not going anywhere." You tell him.

You're not sure how long you and Bucky stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, occasionally trading whatever you're thinking until eventually the urge to shower is overwhelming and even then you remain close. You share soft touches as you gently wash each other, tell silly jokes and whisper sweet nothings. Bucky jokingly laments about needing to change his sheets in the morning as the two of you cuddle under the blankets in your bedroom, enjoying each other's company because even in the quiet moments when you're not being approached by pesky weirdos, when he's not proclaiming his devotion between your legs, you will always feel safest having him near.

***

[immortalmrwavell]

A Worthy Replacement - Part 3

(Original story posted March 23rd 2023) This story has been significantly Updated!

Written for @bodyswappingandshit/@bodyswappingandshit-1

And finally the whole story is back. I made some very noticeable changes to this one which some of you who read the original may notice. A couple additional scenes were added. One scene was even completely changed and reworked from scratch to make things flow a little better. Hope you all enjoy!

Read Part 1 Here! Read Part 2 Here! Read The Epilogue Here!

Martin found himself waking up early the next day. He’d forgotten to close the curtains last night, leading to the morning sun blinding him the moment he opened his eyes. He closed them again with a groan as he rolled over, bed creaking under his weight. He found himself lamenting over the amazing dream he’d had last night. In it he’d not only got to see the incredible Chris Bumstead in person but he also ended up transforming into him somehow! It was so vivid as well. Like he could actually remember taking that muscle bound award winning body all for himself. ‘If only that were real’ he thought. Only as the seconds ticked by, he started to remember more and more details from the dream. To the point where it no longer seemed like a dream. And come to think of it… his bed felt unusually small.

After a minute or two he rolled over a little only to find that his weight and size felt odd, not to mention the facial hair he felt rubbing against the pillow. His waking brain swiftly began to connect the dots causing Martin’s eyes to snap open and look down at himself. The very first thing he saw was a pair of thick meaty pecs nearly blocking his view of what looked to be an enormous hulking body hidden under the covers. That was no dream. He really did become Chris Bumstead! And now he was waking up in his body!

A giddy smile soon crossed Martin’s face as he went to town feeling and groping his body once again. Tweaking his bodybuilder nipples with glee as he threw the covers off himself to admire everything he had now. Running his hands along his abs, giving his meaty thighs a hard slap, squeezing his colossal biceps and of course massaging his gorgeous muscle tits with glee. The best part of it all though was that he had Chris’ morning wood! Naturally he just couldn’t ignore it for another second. He wrapped a hand around the meaty shaft, still relishing in just how much thicker it was than his old one, and didn’t waste any time. He was too horny to tease himself or go slow, instead jumping immediately to jackhammering his new cock with no remorse.

The real Chris, in his underwear form, was still sitting across the room atop the pile of clothes Martin had left him on. Forced to bear witness to his own body pleasuring itself. Having to listen to Martin grunting with that stolen voice as he pumped away. That alone was already torturous enough. Yet, just as he didn’t think it couldn’t get any worse, Martin started groaning about how much he loved being Chris Bumstead and having such a giant sexy body all to himself. Chris wished above all else that this nightmare would end.

It felt as though it went on for hours with this imposter furiously beating his meat to the point where hearing him moaning about finally cumming seemed like a mercy. Martin tensed his abs and, with nothing but pure lust for his new form in his eyes, shot a huge load all over himself. His muscular torso gaining a healthy coating thick cum as he couldn’t help but lay back with a huge grin on his face. How the hell did he get so lucky he wondered. To be graced with a body so perfect that he’d mistaken it for a wonderful dream.

The new bodybuilder took a minute or so to bask in the afterglow of his orgasm before sitting up. He reached over towards the bedside table, grabbing a box of tissues before pulling a couple out. He gave himself a good wipe down, making sure to get right in between the ridges of his thick abs where the cum had pooled. It was only as he tossed those used tissues into the bin across the room that the pair of underwear atop the clothes pile caught his eye once more. He’d completely forgotten about it until just now. Martin couldn’t help but let a sinister smirk creep across his face knowing the real Chris had seen everything that just went down. Was that mean of him to take so much pleasure in? Yes. But was it hot? Absolutely!

He pushed himself off the small mattress and planted his heavy feet on the floor before standing with a long stretch. Reaching his huge arms up nice and high as he stretched the expanse of muscle across his broad back. With a relieved sigh, Martin stomped over towards the discarded clothes and picked up Chris, still just a helpless pair of underwear. Immediately he could hear Chris’ muffled voice echoing through his mind again but he didn’t pay it much attention just yet. Instead he just scooped up the rest of Chris’ gym clothes from yesterday. After all, he was still in his old apartment and none of his old clothes would ever fit a body like this. Maybe he should’ve asked Mr Wavell to resize them. Oh well. Instead Martin made a mental note to head down to Chris’ house today where he’d be able to get some fresh clothes and check out that place for himself. It was his now after all. With that in mind and his clothes in hand, Martin promptly made his way towards the bathroom.

Chris found himself getting dropped onto the cold bathroom floor along with the rest of the gym clothes he’d worn yesterday before that Wavell guy came and fucked everything up. He could just about see Martin stepping in front of the mirror with a gleeful look on his face. As expected it didn’t take long for him to start checking himself out again. Flexing his arms and bouncing his pecs joyously. Even digging his nose into his armpit and getting a whiff of that fresh morning scent. Chris was beginning to wonder if that body snatcher was ever gonna get tired of that. Probably not at this rate.

Martin just couldn’t get enough of it. The raw size, power and smell of his body was nothing short of intoxicating. That alongside his gorgeous looks make him feel on top of the world. He admired every defined ridge of muscle as if he were the one that’d sculpted them. Feeling every bulge with a look of pure pride and satisfaction crossing his face. Truly nothing could beat the feeling of being a complete and utter muscle god. Hell being a gigantic hunk of a man was basically his job description now! Here to look amazing and set the standard.

Though before he moved to brush his teeth, there was one last thing Martin wanted to do. He moved a tad closer to the mirror and started pulling a bunch of silly faces that you’d almost never see the original Chris doing. It was so surreal and hilarious at the same time. He did all sorts from sticking his tongue out to a huge cheesy grin and even giving his reflection the puppy dog eyes. By the end he certainly got a good laugh out of it and weirdly enough seeing this face move completely under his command helped him feel just a tad bit more in tune with his new body. It was like showing his mind that the body reflected back at him was really his own now which helped with a subtle disorientation that came with seeing himself in a mirror.

After having his fun, Martin made sure to give his face a good wash and his teeth a clean before finally getting dressed. Naturally he pulled on the possessed underwear first and the moment he did, his mind was flooded with complaints from Chris about having to see Martin jerk off the cock that he stole, shouting about how it’s his body and demanding that Martin find a way to fix this ASAP. Martin tried to be nice at first as he pulled on his shorts and tank top but Chris just wouldn’t let up. In the end it took Martin losing his patience and threatening to toss Chris into the washing machine at max spin for the haunted underwear to finally pipe down a little.

“Look. I’m sorry. But you have to understand how FUCKED this all is for me.” Chris would continue in a less combative tone than before. “I’m a pair of fucking underwear! I don’t even know how the hell I'm still able to see and hear everything.” Chris couldn’t help but note the pungent scent of sweat that’d lingered on his fabric form overnight, now enhanced after having been secured around Martin’s groin and ass yet again. “…and smell everything.” He added with a grimace in his voice. He didn’t even want to acknowledge the fact that he could also taste every drop of sweat and cum that permeated his new form.

“Yeah I get it but I don’t have any clue how to undo any of this. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It feels like I’ve told you that like a hundred times and it’s only been like a day.” Martin huffed as he fixed his hair in the mirror. “The only person who could turn us back to normal is that Mr Wavell guy but I think he really gets off on doing stuff like this so… yeah.”

“So yeah?” Chris repeated. “Is that it then? I’m just supposed to accept being a pair of underwear for the rest of my life!? All while you get to steal my life!?” Chris was already getting fired up again.

Martin sighed. “Look. I promise I’ll figure something out. But in the meantime could you please stop whining? And stop telling me what I can and can’t do with this body while you’re at it. Until we find a solution, all this muscle belongs to me and I’m allowed to flex and grope it as much as I please.” He reached down and grabbed his dick through the fabric of his shorts and the possessed underwear. “That includes this cock. Got it?” Martin stated firmly.

Chris was silent for a moment, biting his metaphorical tongue so as to not say anything that’d get him thrown in the washing machine. “Fine.” He said flatly at last.

“Good. Glad we’re clear on that.” Martin replied, feeling oddly proud of himself for the confidence and assertiveness he’d displayed. He wasn’t sure if it was Chris’ personality bleeding through somewhat or if just being in his gigantic body was making Martin feel that way. Regardless of why, it felt good.

With that Martin gave his reflection one last look over before turning to exit the bathroom. He was pretty surprised with how well he was hiding his true thoughts from Chris so far. With their minds being connected he had to be careful as to not think too hard about how badly he wanted things to stay this way forever…

———

About half an hour later Martin found himself finishing a rather large bowl of oats along with a small smoothie he’d whipped up as per Chris’ suggestion. As he dunked the bowl into the sink to be washed, he began to wonder what the hell he should even be doing right now. After all he couldn’t just go to work like usual because, if Mr Wavell’s spell did what it was supposed to then, his former identity should’ve been erased altogether. That’s not to mention the fact that he was now a famous bodybuilder.

“So uhhhh… What do you do for money and all that? I mean it can’t all just be… whatever you get for being Mr Olympia right?” Martin asked curiously, not knowing nearly as much as he should.

Chris rolled his hypothetical eyes at the question before answering reluctantly. “I run two businesses that I mainly advertise online. You must’ve seen them if you were a fan. Cbum Fitness and Raw Nutrition. Oh and Bum Energy. Just another reason you need to find a way to fix this. Otherwise I know you’re sure as hell gonna crash and burn all of them. Especially since everyone probably thinks I’ve gone AWOL for the past day already.” Chris grumbled.

Suddenly it all clicked. Martin had seen all that stuff on Chris' Instagram and YouTube. Cbum Fitness was Chris’ clothing brand, Raw Nutrition was his supplement brand and Bum Energy was his energy drinks. Unfortunately Chris was probably right about the last part as well. Martin wouldn’t even know where to start when it came to running all of them. “Alright fine, I’ll head down to your place later but you’d better fill me in on everything I need to know about your friends, family and businesses. Otherwise it’s gonna be your fault when they crash and burn as you say.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. You want to take over my life that badly? Why would I tell you all that when the less I tell you the more of a chance I have of people figuring out you’re an imposter that somehow stole my body!” Chris scoffed.

“Okay. You wanna play it that way? The washing machine is right there, little guy.” Martin threatened yet again.

This time however, Chris didn’t budge. “Do your worst. You might have my body right now and sure there’s nothing I can do to stop you from touching it like a freak but there’s no way in hell in just going to give you everything you need to be me.” He stood firm.

Unfortunately Martin couldn’t force the information out of Chris and it didn’t seem like the man turned underwear was gonna budge on his stance. It was unfortunate. Martin had hoped after their conversation in the bathroom that things would be a little easier but it seemed this was still gonna be a battle. He thought about following through with his original threat until suddenly a naughty little idea popped into Martin’s head. Luckily for him, he was able to block his thoughts just enough for Chris not to hear what he was planning…

Seconds later Martin grabbed his phone off the counter before swiping over to the camera. It was only when Martin pulled his shorts down, also Chris to actually see what was happening, did the other man begin to question what he was about to do. Chris was expecting Martin to pull him off and toss him in for a 1200 spin in that dreaded machine… but Martin didn’t pull him off.

“H-hey!?” What the fuck are you doing??” Chris shouted internally as Martin proceeded to glance over his shoulder while taking photo after photo of his thick muscle ass. Doing his best to capture its size as it pressed tightly against the fabric of his underwear. Making sure to get plenty of low angles that would make it look as juicy as possible. All while listening to an onslaught of protests in his head. Once he was satisfied, Martin brought his phone back up and began scrolling through all the photos he just took. So many ass pics. He could already feel his cock starting to stiffen. If Martin had seen these kinds of pictures of Chris before this whole fiasco, he probably would’ve locked himself away to masturbate furiously for hours on end over them.

“Oooooo… that one’ll do nicely!” He smirked before exiting the photos app and jumping over to Instagram. Upon logging in he was delighted to see that instead of his original account, Martin’s phone was now logged into Chris’ official and verified Instagram account instead! It only made sense considering his former self no longer existed. With a sinister grin he immediately went to post a new story on the account. He grabbed the best of many ass photos he’d just taken and selected it for the story before adding the caption ‘Who else thinks my ass is lookin juicy as fuck today?’ His finger hovered over the post button for a moment, knowing the power he held right now. Then with one final smirk Martin pressed that very button and watched as within seconds the story was getting likes, DM replies and reposts galore! Not too surprising considering he now had over 25 and a half million followers!

It was getting increasingly difficult for Chris to read any of Martin’s thoughts as the latter got better at hiding them. It was scary how fast Martin had learned to do that. But he was able to gather enough of Martin’s residual thoughts to know that he’d posted something to Instagram. That coupled with the pics Martin had just taken threw Chris into a panicked spiral. “Oh no no no! What the hell did you just do!?” He shouted in a panic.

Martin didn’t say a word. He simply opened up the story again and lowered the phone in front of his crotch so that Chris could see for himself. Needless to say he was absolutely mortified to see an admittedly rather alluring picture of his thick muscle ass posted on social media for everyone to drool over!! There were already messages flooding in, mainly from gay men, thirsting over how incredible his ass looked. After a moment or two of shock, Chris went ballistic! Screaming and threatening Martin to take it down right away but the man now in possession of his body was completely unfazed by his madness. Instead he opted to set up an old tripod he hadn’t used in ages before opening his camera app once again and placing his phone on said tripod.

The hulking man took a few steps back after hitting the record button, making sure that his full body was in frame. With that he managed to capture a glorious shot of Chris Bumstead standing in only a tank top, briefs and gym socks. Those enormous thighs on full display for all to admire. The real Chris was both confused and very worried as Martin spun around to show his backside once more. Martin proceeded to look over his shoulder towards the camera once more with a grin before arching his back a little and bending his knees. Chris could already feel those colossal cheeks pushing against the back of the underwear. However it wasn’t until he began to feel a certain up and down, almost bouncing, motion that it dawned on him what Martin was doing…

“Mmmm wow… look at my ass shake!” Martin chuckled as he proceeded to twerk like a pro for the camera. “Fuuuuck… even with all the muscle there’s so much recoil to it.” He complimented himself while biting his lip. Within seconds his cock was at full mast yet again at the sight of his big muscle butt jiggling like it was. He made a point to show it off as much as possible, rotating his hips a few times before squatting down a little more and really throwing it back as if he were a porn star trying to make his living.

Chris was utterly appalled by what Martin was forcing his body to do. Let alone recording it!? The mere idea of seeing himself doing that in front of a camera was mortifying! He tried telling Martin to stop but by now he should’ve known that was pointless. Instead he just had to sit and endure it whilst feeling every shake of his own ass against his fabric body until Martin was finally satisfied.

“Now that is a hot video. I’m willing to bet there’s people out there who’d pay hundreds to see yo- me twerking like this. Maybe more…” Martin commented as he watched the recording back, knowing full well that before all this he would’ve spent his life savings to get his hands on a video like this. “So now you’ve got two choices. Either you tell me what I need to know or I post this video of me shaking this gorgeous ass. Simple as that.”

Chris was silent for a moment but that alone was telling enough. “Fine… I’ll tell you.” He mumbled at last just as Martin knew he would.

———

Over the next couple hours, Martin took a crash course on the personal life of Chris Bumstead. Making sure to ask every important question he could think of about his new life to which Chris reluctantly answered. Though it’s not as if he had much of a choice with the threat of his body twerking going viral looming over him. Martin tried to memorise the basics but ended up writing most things down. Especially the important stuff like bank details, passcodes and specifics about his businesses and brand deals among other stuff. But even the simple things were crucial to be honest. After all, the last thing he needed was his new family and friends interrogating him and thinking he had amnesia or something.

It was only when Chris mentioned that it wouldn’t be easy to fool his close family that something clicked for Martin that hadn’t crossed his mind until now. He was so focused on himself that he hadn’t realised that he now had a muscle monster for a brother in law as well! Iain Valliere!

Naturally Martin had seen Iain all over Instagram as well. Both from his own posts and in posts with Chris. And just like Chris, Iain was an absolute beast with breathtaking amounts of mass packed onto his impressive frame. Most would describe Iain as a mountain of a man with a rough exterior but in reality he was just a big teddy bear. And a cute one at that. Martin had fantasised about Iain nearly as much as Chris over the years. In his head he still imagined Iain towering over him with overwhelming size but now that Martin had Chris’ body, they’d be about on the same level. The thought was exhilarating.

Already Martin was thinking about how he’d not only get to meet but workout alongside and be family with Iain. His mind was stuffed full of dirty ideas revolving around the two of them groping and admiring each other’s bodies. Pressing their beards together in a whirlwind of kisses as they rub their bulges together. Martin grabbing at Iain’s muscle butt as they argue about who’s topping and who’s bottoming. Of course it couldn’t happen. Iain was his brother in law, not to mention he was straight. It was nothing but a delicious day dream… but then again Martin’s dreams had been coming true lately. So who knows?

“I swear to god. If you try to put my lips anywhere near Iain, I will find a way to send you to hell if it’s the last thing I do.” Chris growled from below. Apparently Martin hadn’t been masking his thoughts about his new brother in law all that well.

“Yeah yeah whatever.” Martin huffed dismissively. “That’s not gonna stop me from admiring that sweet eye candy when I get to meet him though.” He added with a chuckle.

Eventually 11:00am rolled around and Martin decided it was about time he hit the gym before checking out Chris’ place. He finished taking whatever notes he needed before gathering up his stuff and making a quick protein shake. He tossed it all in a bag ready to go before stuffing his socked feet back inside those huge pungent sneakers.

Chris had asked a couple times if Martin could take him off and wear some normal underwear to the gym. Of course Chris knew better than anyone how sweaty his body could get while working out and he didn’t want to experience that first hand when his own ball sweat starts to soak into him while Martin works those muscles. Yet Martin refused. After all, he was still a novice when it came to the gym when compared to someone like Chris. He might need the bodybuilding champion’s advice for certain exercises. And so Martin stepped outside to begin his walk to the gym. A place he’d no doubt be spending a lot more time at from now on in some form or another.

———

Upon stepping foot inside the gym once again, Martin couldn’t help but feel a wave of nervousness cascade over him. Until now this new body had been granting a newfound sense of confidence in himself. Knowing that he was bigger and stronger than most of the men here should’ve given him quite the boost. Yet instead Martin couldn’t help but blush and start to feel incredibly shy as he noticed people looking at him in awe, clearly recognising him for who he was. It was swiftly becoming clear that being a celebrity was something that would take some getting used to. For now he just tried to mind his business and make his way into the locker room, saying hello to a couple fans along the way and even taking a picture with one guy. Surreal.

Upon opening Chris’ locker, Martin was greeted by the spare clothes and towel he’d left in there the last time he was here. Well at least now he’d have something else to wear after the gym until he got his hands on some more clothes that actually fit around this tank of a body. For now he proceeded to drop off his bag in the locker after pulling out his protein shake. He closed it up before taking a deep breath and heading towards the sound of clanking weights and grunting men on the main floor.

Martin glanced around the gym at all the various different pieces of equipment. Of course he’d used most of it before and back then he wasn’t worried about making a silly mistake here and there. Nobody would’ve been looking at him anyways. But now? He could already feel everyone’s eyes on him again even if some of them were pretending not to stare. He couldn’t help but let his nerves get the best of him at first, instead opting to start by walking on the step machine for a while to build himself up. During which he took his sneakers off as it was usually best to do such during leg day… or so he told himself. Allowing the pungent scent from his socks and feet to be freed. Even now those socks were already damp with sweat and they would only become more so as his session went on.

During this he found himself having a bit of an inner conversation with Chris. The sentient underwear was telling Martin to stop procrastinating and just get the hell on with it. Besides they’d already gone over Chris’ whole leg routine for the day so all Martin had to do was man-up and get it done. Chris also made a note of saying he wanted it over with as soon as possible as he was already beginning to smell a faint aroma of fresh sweat which he wasn’t particularly fond of. Just hearing that though was more encouragement than anything to get stuck in and train as hard as possible.

After giving himself a moment to work up to it, Martin jumped off the step machine and made his way over towards the leg extension machine. Come on! He was Chris Bumstead now for crying out loud! He couldn’t let the fear of judgement get in his way. Instead he got himself sat down on the machine after adjusting the weight to the exact amount Chris had suggested. 130KG! Martin hesitated for a second as he slotted the pin in. He wouldn’t have dreamed of doing that much weight before but looking down at his gigantic quads gave him all the confidence he needed to give it a shot.

Though the weight was heavy, Martin found himself managing to crank out two full sets without too much issue. At which point he decided to up the weight from 130 to 140. After that he was finally starting to feel a burning in his quads. Ordinarily it would be a dreaded sensation that he’d have to push through to get the results he was striving for. But right now it felt incredible! It was sore and strenuous sure but it was like this body had grown accustomed to love that feeling. The burning sensation of pushing your muscles to work hard and grow was something this body was addicted to and he loved it! Before long it was like his legs had a mind of their own as they continued to push through the reps.

After another set of so he found himself satisfied and ready to move onto the next exercise and if memory serves then it was over to the hack squat machine. As Martin began his low weight warm up set, he failed to notice how some of the wandering eyes from around the gym began admiring his form on a… deeper level. There was a small group of women behind him giggling to each other about how his butt was even bigger than theirs. Another woman was quietly wondering to herself how it would feel to get dicked down by a hunk like Martin, or rather ‘Chris’. Meanwhile even one of the men was trying to hide his growing erection as he marvelled at the way Martin’s chiseled body strained against those tight gym clothes.

But Martin was too distracted by the voice of Chris in his head already complaining about the smell. Martin was already starting to build up a strong sweat and nobody was more aware of that fact than the pair of haunted underwear that had to absorb it. And absorb it he did, much to his dismay, as Martin continued to work up more and more of a sweat once he put some proper weight on the machine. Making sure to go nice and deep with every squat. Sweat dripping from every pore as that musky testosterone filled aroma only grew more powerful.

Beforehand Martin had been partially dreading the idea of having to workout everyday to maintain this body. It was a ton of work afterall to maintain a physique this godly. Most who say it’s a full time job and they’d be right. Yet now here he was loving the burn as any doubts about keeping in shape faded away.

“Fuuuuuuck… I’m so damp…” Chris mumbled in the back of Martin’s mind as the hunk finished up his last set here. “God it fucking smells…” he continued on, referring to Martin’s cock and balls stinking him up as they got hotter and sweatier along with the rest of his body. Though just hearing those comments made Martin’s dick twitch.

“That’s right… soak it up.” Martin whispered under his breath before taking a swig of his protein shake.

“Mmmff… Uurghh… F-Fuck you…” Chris managed to grunt back at Martin but he was clearly struggling through all those man smells that must’ve been overwhelming his senses.

Just knowing Chris was being forced to sniff it all up was driving Martin crazy on the inside, as if everything about this experience hadn’t already been driving him crazy. It was basically the equivalent of if Chris had been forced to shove his face into his own crotch and was unable to remove it. It was making Martin so damn horny but he had to keep his cool for now. He took a few deep breaths to help maintain his composure so that he didn’t spring a tent in the middle of the gym.

This cycle ends up repeating itself throughout Martin’s entire routine. As with every new exercise Martin would only find himself sweating more and more, leaving a seemingly endless supply of sweat for Chris to unwillingly absorb into his fabric body. After the hack squat he jumped to the leg press machine, keeping his feet to the bottom of the pad to help with quad isolation upon Chris’ instructions. Though Martin couldn’t help but notice the subtle slurring of Chris’ words as he explained. Like he was getting more and more drowsy as the session went on. Yet Martin continued on, pushing himself further and surprising himself with how good his form was thanks to muscle memory.

Before long Martin was completely drenched in sweat after completing a few sets of Bulgarian split squats, which were honestly hellish even with his incredible new body. But as he made his way over to a weighted calf raise machine, Martin couldn’t help but notice how quiet Chris was getting. Throughout that entire last exercise, all he heard was “Sooooo moist… Mmmmmm…” along with a couple other murmurs that he couldn’t make out. It seemed like having to absorb all that sweat and musk was having more of an even deeper effect on Chris’ consciousness than Martin thought it would.

It didn't take long for Martin to get into rhythm with the calf raises, tugging on his large sneakers again beforehand and entrapping his musky scent inside them once more.

As he did he found himself glancing around the room again. Seeing all these people of different shapes and sizes. And yet… he was the undoubtedly biggest of them all. Huge all over with pure muscle that would’ve made him look like a hulking monster had it not been for his perfect proportions. He couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pride in that fact but he tried to stay humble all the same just as the real Chris would. Of course that didn’t stop him checking himself out a little in some of the many wall mirrors after his last exercise before finally heading back to the locker rooms.

He pulls out the bag with the spare clothes from yesterday along with a clean towel before getting undressed. He figured he could get a shower at Chris’ place if he wanted but it’d probably be better to take care of this workout stench ASAP. He proceeded to wrap the towel around his waist after taking off his possessed underwear and tossing them in his locker for the time being, still slightly concerned about the lack of communication from Chris as he headed towards the showers. The last things he’d heard were all low hums and groans.

Naturally a part of Martin wanted to do a replay of last night where he’d been worshipping himself under the steaming water but he couldn’t even begin to imagine the headlines if people heard him pleasuring himself in a public gym. Nope, now he was a celebrity he had to be a lot more careful about everything he did. Unfortunately that also meant he couldn’t go around stealing other men’s sweaty clothes and sniffing them, even if that was how he managed to get this famous body to begin with.

Thankfully he managed to keep himself under control despite not quite getting used to how erotic it was to wash such a huge muscular body. Martin stepped back into the main locker room with the towel around his waist once again before reaching into his locker and grabbing the clean clothes Chris had brought with him the previous day. There was a clean pair of underwear as well which he considered pulling on but Martin ended up grabbing the pair Chris was trapped inside again anyway to see if he’d gotten over whatever weird haze he was in earlier. After all, there was still so much he needed to learn about his new life.

Martin locked himself in a changing cubicle, ironically the same one in which his transformation had occurred yesterday, and pulled on the underwear first and foremost. Right away he could hear Chris’ voice in his head running through his head.

“Yooouu fuckinn asshole… Give back… my… my… mmmm-musk… fuuuuuck…” Chris mumbled. He was still slurring his words as if he were drunk out of his mind but at least he was talking again. “Wet… smelly… muuusskk…” He continued to ramble.

With a sigh of relief, Martin threw on the rest of his clothes before grabbing his things from the lock and marching his way out of the gym. Next stop was his new house so he could start figuring out his new life for real!

———

The next few days were a headache to say the least. Trying to integrate into another man’s life wouldn't have been easy regardless but especially for a man as famous as Chris Bumstead. It didn’t help that the real Chris was still quite reluctant to help out of spite half the time and Martin usually had to resort to blackmailing him again with the video he’d made.

When he first arrived at Chris’ house it was quite the whirlwind. He had friends and family alike all asking where the hell he’d been. He had come up with some elaborate lies as to why he’d gone awol for a day and a half. Not to mention half of them having seen his Instagram story which was a little harder to explain. Guess he hadn’t really thought that one through at the time. Regardless, by some miracle, he was able to convince them he was the real Chris. After all it's not like anyone would actually suspect something as insane as that right? Nonetheless Martin did get a few comments about how he seemed a little… off. Luckily he was able to convince everyone that he was just struggling with some ‘Personal Stuff’ that he wasn’t ready to talk about just yet.

He’d even gotten to meet Iain for the first time. Martin made sure to savour the big bro hug that Iain gave him, pressing their bulky bodies together. Iain went on to ask if Chris was doing alright with the weird stuff that had seemingly gone on in the past day or so. It was clear they had a deep bond and Martin could really feel how Iain cared for Chris like a real brother. But still… the lack of space between their thick powerful bodies made it difficult for Martin to control his growing hunger to just grab the other man and smash their lips together. He could see it so clearly in his mind. Wrapping his arms around Iain’s wide shoulders as they melted into the kiss together before rolling into the couch in a mess of lust and passion. But Martin knew that wasn’t how it would really go. Iain would likely push him away in disgust and who knows what would happen to their family after that. That said Martin thought it best not to accidentally blow up his brand new personal life the first chance he got. For now he’d just have to settle for his own imagination in that regard. Making the most of times when Iain hands brushed against Martin’s own bulging muscles during their future workouts.

Eventually Martin found himself settling into Chris’ life pretty well. He had a decent place for sure. Not too big but still fancy enough that anyone could tell he was fairly minted. Martin had already gotten glimpses of the place before when watching Chris’ YouTube videos in the past. It certainly looked a little different now though. Like there wasn’t as much of a feminine touch to the place anymore. He could only assume that was because of Wavell’s reality spell making it so he and Chris’ former fiancé were never together.

On that note, Martin was happy to find he was still absolutely a hundred percent gay. He’d wondered if maybe being inside Chris’ body would’ve made him bisexual or something since Chris had been straight but nope. He was as gay as could be. If anything he might’ve been more obsessed with men than before and that was saying something. As far as he could tell though, the world still believed he was straight. That was evident enough when Iain asked him if he’d been seeing any women lately. He’d dodged the question at the time but that did make Martin wonder how he was gonna break the news. A post on one of his socials would be the obvious choice but then again he could make more of a spectacle of it if he waited until a bodybuilding show to announce it. Or maybe he could set up an account on a gay dating app and let the news spread all by itself. Lots to think about there.

Besides that Martin continues to run his new businesses as well as he can while keeping up with the workout routine Chris had guided him through. Well sort of anyway. It was like every time Martin went to the gym these past few days, Chris was getting more and more drunk on the sweat and musk. Always slurring his words when they communicated and making off hand comments about how he wanted more sweat and musk. Going on about how he wanted the smell now rather than rejecting. Martin even resorted to washing Chris despite the protests in an effort to get him back to normal which didn’t work exactly how he’d planned. If anything it just pissed him off, saying how it felt like he’d been forced to eat soap. Sure it made him a tad more normal for a while but it didn’t take long for him to start groaning about musk again once Martin continued to wear him.

It got to the point where Martin had considered not wearing Chris at all from now on. It sounded like his mind was starting to erode the deeper the musk seeped in. Only wearing him once in a while to preserve consciousness. But he couldn’t. Martin so often found himself needing to ask questions for direction in his new life. Not to mention he couldn’t help the fact that hearing Chris groan about loving his former scent turned Martin on like hell. Even now after about a week of his new life he was back at the gym again and wearing his haunted underwear like usual. Just doing what was now supposed to be his normal routine while trying not to get a boner because of how much he loved his new self and how much he adored hearing the original Chris submit to his musk.

———

It was chest day for Martin and he was really aiming to push his limits on seeing how much he could bench press. He hadn’t actually maxed out on something like that yet. Mainly because he was usually working out on his own and he knew going super heavy would be a dumb idea if he didn’t have someone to save his ass if it went sideways. But today he had the perfect person to spot him for safety. None other than his brother in law Iain!

They’d taken to doing a session together in Chris’ home gym rather than a public gym since it gave them more space and privacy. Something that Martin had come to appreciate after all the looks and interruptions he’d received in public gyms. Plus this meant he could be all alone to secretly admire Iain’s body just as much as his own.

Martin had just spotted Iain as he did his own set of bench presses. The whole time he found his eyes glued to Iain’s huge meaty pecs. After taking off his own shirt, Martin had been able to convince Iain to take his off as well. Now all Martin could think about was rubbing his own hefty pecs against Iain’s sweaty ones.

Once Iain was finished, Martin began racking the bar with some more plates until that thing looked terrifyingly heavy. Totalling up to 200KG or 440lbs of weight.

“Jesus brother. Are you going for a one rep max or something?” Iain quipped as he watched Martin secure the plates with a clip on either side.

Martin smirked at Iain as he got laid down on the bench. “Yuuup. Last time I tried, my PR was about 197KG. Just thought I should try and make it an even 200. It’s been awhile after all and I feel like my strength has improved a little since then.” Martin explained and he was pretty much spot on. He’d remembered Chris talking about his personal records on YouTube before. The thought of using Chris’ own body to beat a record he’d set was exhilarating to say the least.

He gripped the bar firmly with good form as Iain stood over him after getting into position. Martin tried really hard not to think about how close Iain’s cock was to his head right now as he gritted his teeth and steadily lifted the bar off the rack and down towards his chest. Iain made sure to keep the bar level while not interfering too much, instead shouting words of encouragement down at Martin.

“Come on Chris! Up! Up!” Iain’s words rang through Martin’s head like a beacon of light that helped to ignite a deeper strength inside himself. With all his might Martin began to push the bar upwards, watching as it slowly lifted up. “There you go! Keep going! Come on, you're Mr Olympia aren’t ya?!” Iain continued, causing Martin to let out a roar in response. His arms and chest were on fire as he forced the bar to rise higher and higher until he finally did it. He actually benched 200 fucking kilos! Even as Iain was helping him re-rack the bar, Martin already had a giddy smile plastered across his face.

“Damn…” Martin huffed through laboured breaths.

Iain just smirked down at him. “You’re still not touching my PR.” He said playfully. It was true. Iain, the muscle monster that he was, had a record of about 225KG or around 500lbs.

“Well I train for the classic aesthetic, not to be a mass monster like you.” Martin replied while sitting up and grabbing his water bottle.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better.” Iain laughed.

The pair continued their chest day like normal. Hitting all the different exercises to keep their pecs huge and full. Egging each other on and joking like real bros. It was pretty crazy how well Martin had been able to slip into this. Already he found himself talking and acting quite convincingly as Chris. Iain hadn’t even questioned him since that first time Martin had met him. It was just a shame Martin couldn’t think of a way to get Iain into worshipping their bodies together without it sounding incredibly weird. Instead Martin would just have to resign to picking up Iain’s tank top ‘by mistake’ so he could stuff his nose into it in between sniffing all of his own sweaty clothes.

———

The morning after his delicious chest day with Iain, Martin found himself waking up with yawn in the new bed he’d gotten used to since moving into Chris’ house. It was much bigger than his old one and far better suited to his size. He dozed for a couple minutes before finally sitting up with a stretch.

He trudged downstairs before going about what had become his regular morning routine by now. He was wearing Chris yet again but the possessed underwear had become much more docile as of late. He would still answer when called upon but he always sounded sleepy and he didn’t seem to protest as much as he once did whenever Martin went on a self worship frenzy. Regardless Martin got on with his morning.

He’d had some breakfast and done some stretching when he made his way into his personal gym. He was ready for an intense back day but was stopped in his tracks when I saw another man he didn't recognise using the leg extension machine in his home gym!? Had he broken in? Was this stranger a crazy fan??

“Hey!” Martin shouted, swiftly making his way over. “What the hell are you doing in here?!?” He demanded an answer, subconsciously making his frame look as big and imposing as possible.

The stranger hardly even flinched. He glanced up at Martin before flashing him a quick smile. “Ah. Was wondering when you’d finally get your arse out here big man.” The intruder replied with a notable British accent. “Hold on. Got a few more reps.” He added without a care in the world as he continued to push the weight.

Martin just sort of stood back in shock. Who the hell was this guy? He wanted to be angry but he couldn’t help feeling strangely at ease for some reason. Of course it didn’t hurt that the man was a total hunk. He wore tight clothes that left little to the imagination and certainly flattered his hefty build. So thick with juicy muscle. Fuck. Martin was getting far too used to being exposed to hulking men as of late.

The stud finished his set, leaning back in the seat for a moment as he caught his breath before standing up. He placed his hands on his hips as he turned his attention back to Martin. “So. How have you been getting on with that body? No problems I hope?”

Martin narrowed his eyes at the stranger. “What the hell are you talking about? A-and why are you asking me questions!? You’re the one who broke into my house!” He bellowed, not quite processing what the man had said at first.

“What? You don’t recognise me?” The stud hummed playfully. “Suppose I do look a little younger since the last time you saw me.” He continued before raising both arms up into a double biceps flex. “And a bit juicier.” He added with a snicker. “It’s me. Wavell!”

Martin’s mouth hung slightly agape as his kind tried to process what the man before him had just said. Wavell? The same Wavell who had perfect silver hair and a lean physique that never failed to catch someone’s eye. The same Wavell who seemed to wear nothing but immaculate suits. The same Wavell who used some otherworldly magic to turn Martin himself into Chris Bumstead!?

“W-what? You mean…?” Martin hardly got a sentence out before the hunky warlock finished it for him.

“Yup. The very same Mr Wavell you know and love. I know I look a little different right now but come on Martin. You can tell it’s me… can’t you.” Those last two words came out slower and deeper as Wavell’s eyes glowed an unmistakable violet.

“Holy shit! It really is you! Fuck!” Martin shouted, not knowing whether to feel excited or nervous. “W-what happened to you? Did you steal someone’s body as well?”

Wavell looked down at himself before running his hands along the mountains he called pecs, massaging them a little before explaining. “Well yes and no. I won’t go into all the details but I essentially have two bodies. Sometimes in the silver fox daddy you saw before. Sometimes I’m a young hairy hunk instead. Depends on my mood I suppose.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Oooh on that note, look at how fat the leggings make my arse look.” Wavell spun around before Martin even had a chance to think. He hoisted up the back of his shirt slightly to give a good full view of his heavy bubble butt as it pressed aggressively against the tight leggings that struggled to contain his lower body. “I mean my arse always looks fat but still. Fuck. Bet you wish your cock was buried to the hilt inside it huh?” Wavell shook his bubble butt enticingly.

“I… Uhhhmm…” Martin’s mouth went dry at the sight. Wavell was right though. Every instinct in his body was telling him to rip those leggings open and ravish that thick ass. But before he got a chance to even consider following through, Wavell spun back around again to face Martin.

“Ahhhh no need to answer. I know I’m adorably handsome and fuckable beyond belief.” Wavell said half jokingly while crossing his arms over his considerable chest. “But anyway, down to business. The real reason I’m here is because I wanted to ask if you’d received any of Chris’ memories yet?”

“Memories? Nope. I’ve just been asking him a ton of questions mainly. Although he hasn’t been as helpful lately. He won’t stop grunting and going on about my smell.”

Wavell grinned as it seemed Martin hadn’t figured out the other little aspect of the magic he’d placed on both Chris and Martin. “Well faking it might get you through the short term but eventually you’re gonna find yourself tripping up trying to juggle Chris’ life if you don’t have all the memories you need to do so. Luckily for you however, all you need to do is ask him.”

“What do you mean “ask?” Like he can just give his memories to me whenever he wants?” Martin questioned.

Wavell shifted on the spot a little while nodding his head. “Pretty much yeah. All you’ve gotta do is ask Chris to give you his memories. If you can get him to agree then they’ll automatically be transferred over to you. After that you should be all set for the long game.” The warlock stroked his beard nonchalantly, his bicep subtly flexing at the movement. “And guessing by what you’ve told me… I’m willing to bet he’s already pretty suggestive.”

Martin glanced down at his crotch. Was it really that easy all along? All he had to do… was ask?

“Well as much as I’d love to stay, chat and suck each other off, I promised my boyfriend I wouldn’t be long. I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up already to see what’s taking me.” Wavell chuckled. “Besides I’ve got no doubt you could have a guy over here sucking your cock within the hour if you really wanted. I doubt many gay men would say no to all of that. Unless you’re too obsessed with your new brother in law to think about anyone else of course…” He gave Martin a devious smirk.

“How did you know about that??” Martin questioned.

“Magic.” Wavell said as he waved a pair of jazz hands at the clueless sculpture of a man before him. “Anyway I’ve got bodies to swap, people to transform and a boyfriend to please so I’ll leave you to it bro. I have every faith that you’ll squeeze those memories out of your friend down there and be living your best life soon enough!” He clasped his hands enthusiastically. “So until we meet again Chris.” He smirked before vanishing right in front of Martin’s eyes in a swift tornado of purple smoke. Theatrical as always. He didn’t even give Martin a chance to say goodbye.

And so the bodybuilder was left on his own once again. Now he knew exactly what he had to do in order to truly make this new life his own. And he was going to take it.

———

The door to Martin’s new place swung open as he arrived home after a jog back from the gym, already having worked up a decent sweat and for good reason. He didn’t have anything lined up for the rest of the day as far as he could recall which meant he had the place to himself with no distractions. Perfect.

“So Chris. Not sure if you heard what that crazy magic guy said but I’m gonna need you to give up ownership of your memories.” He proclaimed out loud after tossing his shorts off and across the room. “So. You gonna give em to me or what?” He continued with a cocky demeanor.

Chris groaned a little as he tried to comprehend Martin’s words. “Mmmm… fuuck… what? Memories?… N-no. They’re mine… you can’t have them.” He just about managed to reply despite his seemingly drunken state.

“Oh yeah? Well let’s see if I can help change that tune of yours. You like feasting on your own sweat don’t ya?” Martin jumped on the treadmill without hesitation, tapping a few buttons before the thing started to move. “Well how about I get some extra cardio in for you?”

“Yes I… No… No I don’t absolutely fucking love that amazing sweaty scent. No fuck!…” Chris battled with himself and the new urges that’d been festering inside his mind ever since he was cursed. Urges that had become increasingly difficult to fight against to the point where it was bordering on addiction. The still sane part of him wanted to hate that overwhelming scent and taste that bombarded him almost everyday but this other twisted part of himself was in love with it. But he couldn’t give in. He couldn’t let this imposter win and take everything from him! He had to fight for his body! For his life!

Martin soon found himself turning the treadmill up from a jog to a run. Hearing the machine creak slightly under his weight with every step was delightful. More and more sweat dripped from every pore. Soaking his tank top and more importantly his underwear. He pushed himself to go for as long and fast as possible. Running until beats or salty sweat were dripping from his nose and the beard. He was drenched. So much so that Chris was being completely engulfed by the intensifying stench and taste to the point where he could hardly form a single thought about anything else. Before long he was groaning endlessly about how much he fucking loves the manly scent like a pig.

“Ready to… give up those… memories yet!?” Martin shouted heavy breaths down at the pair of sentient briefs as he slowed the treadmill to a brisk walk. He was hoping that the overload of stimulation would wear down the former Mr Olympia just enough to slip up and agree.

“Fuck! Fuck! So sweaty! So fucking smelly! Smells soooo good! I-I-” Chris stuttered as he finally processed what he’d been asked again. “I… I…. said no! You c-can’t have… mmmmhh… mmmy m-memories!!” He continued to protest despite it all which came as quite the shock to Martin. If it were him, Martin would’ve broken ages ago. Guess that went to show Chris’ champion mentality. A mentality that would soon belong to Martin one would hope.

He really thought that would do it though. Martin started to think that maybe he’d have to give it a few more days. Wait for Chris’ mind to corrupt a little further until it was hopefully more malleable. Maybe then he’ll be able to get the answer he wants. However, just as he was about to give up, an idea sprung to mind causing a devilish smirk to spread across Martin’s handsome yet stolen face.

The massive hunk of man hurried his way to the bedroom after jumping off the treadmill, kicking off his sneakers and peeling off his shirt. It wasn’t long before he found himself kneeled on his new king sized bed in nothing but his underwear while facing the huge bedroom mirror. Damn he loved his new place. Almost as much as he loved pleasuring this new body of his. A body didn’t ever plan on losing.

With that Martin sunk a hand down into his briefs, earning a strangely satisfied grunt from Chris as his fabric body was stretched. After which grabbing his already half hard cock and giving it a few strokes. Now usually this would be the point where he pulls down his briefs some more to unleash his cock in all its glory… but not this time. No sir. Those briefs stayed right where they were as Martin kept pumping away at his huge manhood despite the constraining fabric.

“H-hey? Mmmm fuck… W-what are you doing!?” Chris panicked a little while battling against his urges, trying hard not to moan out again about how much he adored the scent he was absorbing. Unfortunately for him Martin didn’t answer. He simply continued to jack himself off while glancing at his own reflection in the mirror and talking to himself. Telling his reflection how fucking huge and sexy he was and that he’d never go back in a million years.

It wasn’t long before Martin’s fat cock started to leak precum and, just like all the sweat so far, Chris was forced to drink it up and taste his former body’s pre. He tried to ignore how good it tasted at first but it was impossible. It was even better than all the sweat he’d been guzzling so far. So sweet but salty at the same time, yet so so addictive. It was divine! He wanted more. No he needed more! It wasn’t long before he was begging for more cum to taste. To spread inside his fabric form and savour it just as he did with all the sweat.

“Yeah you want it? You want my cum? Well I can give you a whole fucking load if you if you’re that much of a slut for it!” Martin promised, continuing to jerk with vigour.

“Yes! Yes please give it to me! I need it so badly! I need to taste it!” Chris begged in a frenzy. God if only his past self could’ve seen him now. Trapped as a pair of his own briefs and begging to be nutted inside. “Please just blow your load in me! I need it!”

That was it. Martin had him at last. He kept pumping for a few more minutes and letting Chris soak up as much precum as possible before finally posing a deal. “Alright I’ll give it to you. But only on one condition. Give me those fucking memories!!” He demanded.

Chris was silent for a moment. It was clear as crystal that he was trying to resist the temptation. He tried so hard to say no but he just as badly wanted to have that load. It was tearing him apart! So much so that he ended up shouting out an answer on impulse.

“Yes! Fine! Take them! Have my memories! I don’t care, just blow your looooaaaaadddddduuuhhhhhhh…” Chris trailed off as suddenly the very memories he’d just agreed to give up were suctioned out right out of his mind in one of the most pleasurable sensations he’d ever experienced.

“Holy fuuuuuuucckkkk!!!” Martin bellowed out as an entire life began pouring itself inside his head. Core memory after memory showing up in his mind one after the other as if he’d actually experienced them. All of Chris Bumstead adventures, experiences, ideas and skills swiftly becoming his. An entire identity transferring itself in a whirlwind inside his head as everything slotted into place. That experience instantly skyrocketed to the number one most bizarre thing Martin had ever felt and probably ever will feel. Quite literally having a life flash before his eyes.

Before he knew it the sheer intensity of the transfer caused Martin to bust one of the biggest loads of his life, soaking the underwear even more so than it already was with his thick virile seed. Some managed to push through the fabric and drip onto the bed sheets but most of the cum was absorbed rather quickly for… obvious reasons.

“Yessssss… cummmm! I love cum! Cum and sweat! Soooo delicious…” The original Chris mumbled mindlessly. With all his memories drained he hardly even knew who he was anymore. Now he was nothing more than a piece of horny sentient fabric with a one track mind. To serve his master. To show off his master’s ass and bulge. And of course to absorb his master’s essence.

After catching his breath, Martin slipped off the underwear before dropping it on the floor in a messy heap so he didn’t have to hear those horny moans any longer inside his head. Instead he took a step towards the mirror and looked at his reflection again. Before now he’d always felt like an outsider. And Imposter parading around in someone else’s skin. But now? He was the real deal. That man staring back at him in the mirror. It wasn’t some other dude who’s body he’d stolen. It was him! He was Chris Bumstead now! And nothing was ever going to change that!

“And I’ll be a better version of Chris than you ever were.” He muttered, looking back at the discarded cum filled underwear on the floor before turning back to the mirror. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward towards the glass and pressed his bearded lips against the reflection. Making out with ‘himself’ shamelessly. God he fucking loved himself. And he was gonna love his new life even more!

With that the new Chris made his way to the bathroom so he could wash up and get all this strong manly stench washed away for the time being. And as he stood under the running water, the new Chris began to ponder how he was going to introduce his new sexuality to the world yet again. I still hadn’t come to a decision but he was eager to introduce the world formally to the new and improved Chris Bumstead! One that was very… very gay.

Epilogue coming soon…

[lunar-years]

SOTR SPOILERS!!!//

I've already seen some complaints about how the plot was bad and the rebellion attempt didn't make sense/was far-fetched, but honestly that was one of the things I liked best about it!

Yes, the rebellion plot was an EXTREME long shot. The end goal really wasn't clear, the plan itself was shoddy at best with about a million things that could go wrong. It's honestly amazing that Haymitch and Ampert managed to carry out any part of it "successfully." And even then, they're really just the pawns of the rebel adults around them (like Katniss and Peeta in that way, except that unlike Katniss and Peeta, Haymitch's problem is being told too much, rather than being kept in the dark.)

I think it's pretty evident that this was a last minute, thrown together rebellion attempt hastily contrived of by immensely desperate people (and almost certainly prompted by Beetee's son unexpectedly being reaped.) Beetee needed his son's death to mean something. His wife was pregnant. He was probably already foreseeing losing them, too. He needed to at least try this. He was desperate enough to try it even if it was ill-thought and highly likely to fail. Wiress (Beetee's most recent mentee) and Mags (who's basically mother teresa like oh my god maggggs <3) would of course be wiling to jump in with him. Plutarch is desperate to get something, anything, stirring in way of rebellion. And finally they pull in Ampert and Haymitch to carry the thing out, the two tributes who have already been marked as direct, personal targets of the Capitol and have seemingly no chance whatsoever of coming out of the arena alive. it's easy to see why they alone were chosen, no other kids involved. After all, Haymitch has been told from President Snow directly that he is going to be killed. He's as good as dead already. He has nothing to lose.

Trouble is, no one expects Haymitch to actually emerge as Victor, lest of all Haymitch himself, but also everyone around him. The others are all adults who know and accept what could happen to them if the plot goes south. They take on the risks willingly. They are banking entirely on Ampert and Haymitch being dead anyway. And isn't it better to go out fighting back against the true enemy? The only thing Snow can do is take it out on them in the arena, which he will be doing regardless. Unfortunately, they're forgetting just how much Snow likes to play with his food before eating it. It's pretty clear with the poisoned milk picnic basket that Snow was indeed intending to kill Haymitch right up until the very end. He was merely waiting for the right time, after the right amount of humiliation, after forcing Haymitch to watch all his closest allies die horrible, targeted deaths. Only this time Snow waits too late. And then he has no choice but to pull Haymitch out alive so that the Capitol can have their victor.

I think the fact that it all fails so colossally is the biggest point of the book. As Plutarch comments at the end, when it does happen, the timing needs to the right. There needs to be an army to rally behind the rebels. Haymitch was given none of that. He was moved around on a chess board by desperate players. The rebels had hardly anyone on the inside. They didn't have the country behind them, no soldiers. They didn't yet understand their enemy well enough. He is set up to fail on all sides, the rebel side included. And they pay for it greatly.

On the other hand Katniss, when she comes, is very significantly not some grand "chosen one." She's pretty inarguably far, far less rebellious than Haymitch is at the start (in part because they have very different motivations in their games). Breaking into the arena to attempt to shut it down, working to destroy the generator, killing gamemakers in the arena, all that is about 10x more explicitly rebellious than the berry trick. The difference is not that Katniss is smarter or stronger. Imperatively, the only difference of any great significance is that Katniss manages to ensure her acts get seen. The berry trick cannot be covered up or cut out. It's the grand finale. And that's what makes it far more of a threat than all of Haymitch's crazy, reckless schemes to tear down the arena.

(interestingly, I think Haymitch would have been way more successful if he'd had the opportunity to carry out his backup plan of bombing the cornucopia during the final confrontation of the Games. The part of the plan that he came up with entirely on his own. it has to be something the Capitol's propaganda can't wash away, something that would have been impossible for them to cut out.)

Which is ultimately to say, the book is effective because it acknowledges just how complicated rebellion is. It takes far more than a few extremely rebellious, reckless people to make it happen. It takes a whole community banding together and rising up for change. On a series level, I think it also fleshes out some of Haymitch's decisions in the original trilogy, because it's easy to see why Haymitch would be so hell bent on keeping Katniss and Peeta entirely in the dark for so long. After all, look at what happened to him when he was in on all of it too soon.

[thesvnandthemooon]

Hi can I be secret anon...🩰 Been on wp👀 but how do you think Natasha would handle the post-partum of r. The aftermath of pregnancy, being mentally unstable, insecurities which is actually already present during the pregnancy itself but much worse this time. The times where r just cannot handle Niko's blue phase.

warning: this discusses body image issues, (postpartum) insecurities, weight gain, mental health

ohh another wattpad reader 👀 welcome!

best believe natasha would be the most supportive girlfriend (at least once she was committed lol), but especially during those postpartum trenches.

→ switched up the way i do these things a little because i think it might make it easier for me; i wasn’t happy with the previous style and this one is more similar to how i usually write. i also decided to switch to using present tense for these, as i do with my ‘normal’ fics

˙⋆ body issues ˙⋆

insecurities are hitting you hard. pregnancy changes the human body in so many ways, but the physical proof is the most tangible one. natasha catches you in front of the mirror more than once, poking your softened stomach and staring at stretch marks and looser skin. she knows the look in your eyes too well by now — that look of silent frustration, of disappointment, of unspoken unhappiness.

you aren’t used to this. it took you a while to get used to your growing baby bump, and now that it’s gone, you’re forced to get used to another change. she watches you try on a pair of jeans that used to fit you perfectly before the pregnancy. but now, you barely manage to get them halfway up your thighs.

“babe?”, natasha mumbles. you bite your lip, then peel off your jeans and throw them aside. “love.”

“what?”

“come here.”

you shake your head. you’ve been shying away from her touch for a while now. even during your pregnancy, it rarely was like this. but when insecurities flare up and combine with baby blues and exhaustion, the result can be overwhelming.

natasha, for once, has been forced to take life serious. no stupid jokes, no half-assed attempts at doing something. she needs to do this parenthood-thing right — and she wants to do it all right. every aspect. including taking care of her baby’s mom.

she walks up to you, slowly. you wrap your arms around your upper body. she wraps hers around you as well, shielding you from your own judgement. her lips press against your cheek, your neck, making their way down your body.

it’s been a while since you slept with each other, too, but that’s not what she’s trying to make up for. she just misses touching you, in any way she can get.

“i know it’s hard”, she starts, gently covering your stomach with her hands. you make an uncomfortable noise and almost push her away. “nuh-uh. wait.”

“nat, i don’t-“

“but i do.”

you look at her in the mirror. she raises her eyebrows, hands pointedly rubbing your stomach.

“you carried my son in there for nine months”, she says. “your body gave me niko. there’s nothing more beautiful.”

you swallow, giving her a defiant stare. natasha swiftly spins you around and starts caressing you all over, palms running over your sides and arms and thighs. her lips follow. no stretch mark is left out.

afterwards, she spends half an hour picking out an outfit with you that fits and makes you feel good. natasha’s an absolute expert in that field, obviously. she knows exactly what looks amazing on you (everything, in her eyes), and you leave your bedroom feeling at least a little better.

˙⋆ too tired to function ˙⋆

everyone knows that having a kid basically means not sleeping enough for the upcoming next years, but you didn’t think it’d be that hard.

you have a newborn who wakes up three times every night. you have to breastfeed. you’re exhausted from everything changing within a matter of days. plus, you have classes. you don’t want to drop out, so all you can do is take a few weeks off (the recommended 6-8 weeks) and then hope you’ll survive this lack of sleep.

you don’t know how you make it through this period, honestly, but natasha definitely does more than enough to help you. she creates a night schedule. she wakes up early to carry niko around campus, just so you can sleep in. but somehow, it still doesn’t help. you still pass out randomly during lunch, while watching tv (not like you have much time for that), during car rides. she starts skipping practice so she can take care of the baby while you nap, and even gets benched for a while.

still. doesn’t. help. even when nat’s the one doing the nighttime feedings, his crying still wakes you up. you’re walking around like a zombie. you barely have the energy or time to do anything for yourself. natasha starts doing it for you — like your skincare, which you neglect for a good week. she appears in the bedroom one evening, while you’re nursing, and sits down next to you with a bunch of products and a little bowl of water.

cue her washing your face. putting serum on your skin. applying chapstick. dabbing her fingers in moisturizer and patting it into your cheeks. you aren’t less tired by the time she’s done, but at least you feel less miserable.

at nights, you look exhausted even getting up to get niko from his crib. once nat clocks that, she starts doing it all for you. getting up, bringing niko over, unlatching your nursing bra and positioning the baby. it becomes a routine, and you don’t even have to open your eyes.

baby fusses. nat’s up. something tiny is latched onto your chest. she burps him, too, and only then goes back to sleep.

˙⋆ baby blues ˙⋆

postpartum hormones are a bitch, and you find out about that as well.

tears, constantly. over the most random things — niko outgrowing his first onesie, a cup of tea you forgot on the counter, some ad with a baby in it. the waterworks are constant, just as bad as during the height of your pregnancy mood swings, and natasha’s panicking. a joke that’d usually make you laugh ends up making the tears worse.

she tries her best, though. she lets you cry on her chest for hours if you need it, she still tries to find the right kind of humor that’ll make things better, she listens to whatever you have to say.

feeling too much isn’t the only issue, though. sometimes, you also feel too little. you feel empty, drained, unfit to be a mom and handle all of this.

it makes you feel guilty. you’ve got everything you could want, after all, so why are you this ungrateful? why do you not feel happy?

you’re scared of telling nat, but when you do, you suddenly feel better. she listens without judgement, she holds you, she shuts up for once. no stupid jokes, no humor used to cheer you up. she encourages you to eat, and sleep, and go on walks with her.

she knows what makes you happy, too. not much helps with baby blues, but there are a couple things that coax a smile out of you anyway. even if it’s just your favorite snack or a new necklace — it makes those few weeks easier for you.

˙⋆ the reality of parenthood ˙⋆

stitches? natasha gets a cooling pad and painkillers.

sore boobs? warm baths and gentle massages (she’s lying if she says she’s not profiting from those as well).

cramps? tea and heating pads.

you’re basically royalty. you did not only get the campus’s biggest fuckboy to commit, but she’s also worshipping the ground you walk on.

sex is definitely not in the cards for a while. your stitches need to heal, and so does the rest of you. the first time you try, you start crying. not because you don’t want to — it’s been two months, and you need her like a drug at this point —, but because everything is still fragile. the insecurities are still hitting hard and you’re simply overwhelmed.

natasha doesn’t question it. she kisses you, rolls off and holds you close all night.

intimacy in general takes a back seat. everything you talk about is baby-related. everything you do is baby-related. maybe you’ll talk about classes, or aching breasts, but that’s about it.

natasha’s solution? date nights. nothing too big or exhausting, just sweet and romantic enough to remind you that you aren’t only parents, but partners as well. she makes sure niko is fed and asleep by the time you’re done freshening up, then you order takeout and cuddle up on the couch. bonus points for clay face masks, candles, roses and a bottle of sparkling apple juice (because alcohol is still a no, obviously).

then, there’s the overstimulation. being stuck in your apartment almost constantly, with a crying little infant and a messy living room, always something to do — it becomes too much. you snap sometimes, and when you do, natasha quietly gets niko and leaves the apartment. she knows the telltale signs already, and whenever she notices you rubbing your temples or exhaling in that one specific way, she quietly leaves so you can breathe.

once you start going to classes again, different things make you struggle. breastfeeding in public makes you nervous, so natasha sits in front of you and acts like a human shield. she meets you every hour and a half, so you’re not as uncomfortable, until you’re so used to it that you don’t give a fuck anymore and whip out in a lecture hall full of 200 students.

˙⋆ the little things ˙⋆

buys you things that she knows will make you smile. flowers, decaf iced lattes, magazines, new blouses (with buttons for easier access).

keeps your hoodies in the dryer for a few extra minutes so they’ll be warm and nice.

sticky notes and risky snaps. romantic one liners and full on nudes. might seem unnecessary, but it makes you feel normal, and that’s good.

carries you around. from the bed to the couch, then later back to bed. too tired to shower? no problem, she’s got you. she’s helping you undress and washes your hair.

kisses your stretch marks because she means it. you get flustered — she doesn’t care. she’s kissing every last one until you feel good.

always checking in on you. asking if you’re okay, if you want to go for a walk. texts wanda or daisy so they can babysit while you can have some alone time together.

[roanokezephyr]

AU idea that I will probably never write but can’t get out of my head. Buckle up bitches.

Warning: stuckony. Ok you’ve been warned.

In a timetravel accident (Pym Particles, Strange, or other misc time travel plot device), Tony gets stranded in Siberia in the 50s. The people who save his ass are HYDRA. He already knows Russian from Nat, so to save his own skin, he becomes a HYDRA agent under the name Antony Starkov, and of course immediately begins passing info to SHIELD. They’re skeptical at first, can’t teach an old dog new trick and all, but he’s an amazing study and under torture refuses to admit being FBI, CIA, or SHIELD.

The Winter Soldier’s handler is a man named Oleksandr Melenevsky, a sadist who takes his torture of the Asset too far, even by HYDRA’s standards. Tony is assigned to the position of Handler after Melenevsky almost kills the Asset during a ‘punishment’. Not that HYDRA cares about the health or safety of their Asset beyond its tactical value, but all the same they aren’t stupid enough to risk their most valuable asset being killed unnecessarily.

Tony always calls him ‘Winter’ rather than ‘Asset’ or ‘Soldat’, less dehumanizing that way and he can’t just call him Bucky Barnes in front of a kajilion HYDRA agents. In private, Tony whispers in English to Bucky, telling him about his life before HYDRA. They keep wiping him though, so Tony never runs out of stories. He thinks they start to stick, after a while.

After five years stuck in the past, Tony gets extracted. His last words before vanishing are “catch you on the flip side Buckaroo”.

When Tony returns to the present, still done up in his HYDRA gear, Bucky freezes.

“Handler Starkov,” he breathes

“That’s my name- wait, no it’s not, that’s gonna take some getting used to- anyway I guess that means you remember, huh?”

“Yeah, I remember you- you were never on their side at all, were you?”

“No, but that doesn’t excuse what I’ve done.” Tony looks supremely guilty now, dipping his head. Steve looks on in shock.

Bucky only smiles, “If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been someone else, someone much crueler if I had to bet. It’s coming back now, you were downright kind, not very HYDRA of you.”

“Still, I was your Handler. I used your trigger words and forced you to kill. I was HYDRA. I don’t expect your forgiveness.”

“Well, you’ve got in anyway. I forgive you, deal with it.” Bucky smirks.

Tony smiles sadly, “I forgive you too, for my parents I mean. I can’t in good conscience hold that against you, and I’m sorry that this is what it took for me to see that.”

…

Tony returns to the tower, learning that it’s been two years in the present since he’s been gone. Thankfully, he hasn’t been declared dead yet, which makes everything so much easier on the legal front. He settles back into the team dynamic with a few bumps, specifically Steve has a hard time accepting him back.

It’s only when Bucky has an episode and Tony is the only one who can take care of him that Steve internalizes that Tony isn’t the enemy, he isn’t HYDRA. The trio grow closer at it quickly becomes apparent that Tony is the only one who can take care of Bucky on his bad days.

During those episodes, Bucky will revert to the base programming in his head and not know where he is. Before Tony came back, the Asset’s response was to lock itself in the room and try to figure out where it is and what the mission is, denying itself care in the absence of an authority figure to approve anything.

When it sees Handler Starkov though, it recognizes him as its Handler, but also as Safe. It gets a vague sense of panic, like the alternative to Handler Starkov is something so bad that its mind has blocked it out not just from the wipes, but also from regular old trauma. It will comply with Handler Starkov to the letter, it will not give him a reason to send it back to wherever it came from.

It eats and drinks what Handler Starkov puts in its hands, though there has been no mission and thus no need for rations. It relaxes slightly at his touch when he bathes it, though there is no blood and minimal grime to wash away. It even sleeps on the bed which Handler Starkov designates for its use, though it has never been cleared to use that equipment before. Perhaps it has performed exemplarily, and earned a reward? This has not occurred before, but by now it is sure that Handler Starkov is not like any other handler.

Steve is just glad that someone is able to take care of Bucky.

Steve and Tony bond as they lead the Avengers and over taking care of Bucky, and though Steve had only ever loved Bucky, he finds himself developing feelings for Tony and then guilt for said feelings. He’d never cheat on Bucky, and he’ll get over this little crush.

Meanwhile Bucky builds upon the base feeling of Safe he has around Tony, to something deeper. But he’d never cheat on Steve, and Tony had been his Handler. How fucked up is that? It was practically Stockholm Syndrome, and besides, Tony could have anyone, why would he ever want Bucky? He buries his feelings.

Tony, for his part, is in crisis. He’s only just got back from being a HYDRA goon, and now he’s falling not only for Captain Spangles (a crush he’d been holding onto for a long time but that’s between him and God) but the Manchurian Candidate too. See, as the Winter Solider, Bucky had been pretty unresponsive, and Tony hadn’t had much interest beyond trying to protect him from HYDRA. Before that, all Bucky had been was his parents’ murderer. Now though? Now that he was spending real time with both super soldiers? He was falling harder than he ever thought possible, for both at the same time. Damnit.

Things come to a head when the three are captured together. Tony gets hurt real bad, and as he’s on the verge of death, he confesses. When they get out, it’s Bucky who awkwardly asks if, in the future, you can date two people at once. Tony, not really remembering what he had said, gives them a crash course on polyamory. He thinks they’re pulling his leg when they ask him to join their relationship, but then it comes out what he said, and Tony has no choice but to realize that Steve and Bucky are being sincere. He accepts.

[oikarma]

left my message

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

summary: you’ve heard about the legend but you’re not quite prepared to meet him in real life.

a/n: first part is like a smau companion i guess? but this is the actual interaction which makes the twt posts make more sense!! 

part one / part two

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

two days ago

you still can’t believe it. the paddock pass is smooth under your hands, so smooth it might just slip out and away. you’ve never been so close before, despite having watched many of the races on a grainy screen or far, far up into the grandstands. it didn’t make sense, really. when you were younger, your mother disapproved of flouncing around just to go to a racetrack—she certainly wouldn’t accompany you, with the engines roaring past, when your music on 70% volume was already deafening to her. but now, early decisions had come out, very much in your favor. mother was pleased, and that left you to go wherever you wished over easter.

so you’re here, standing in the ferrari paddock. it’s a gift on both guanyu and your brother’s part, flying you out at last minute’s notice when charles’s surgery was confirmed. an extremely generous gift you’re not sure you can repay anytime soon. it makes you feel a bit guilty, until you see how happy both of them are to see you. with college applications, you haven’t had much time to facetime your brother—he was overseas working—and the same went for guanyu. late family reunion, you decide. 

lando walks pass the ferrari garage and waves at you. it turned out you had rooms on the same floor after bumping into each other in the elevator. it wasn’t the first time you’d met him: you’d been present at a few of his karting competitions when you were younger. you weren’t “friends,” you’d argue, but you’d talked enough to be good acquaintances. he was also a familiar face in the uk. that is, before he moved to monaco. 

you grin at lando and turn back to guanyu, inside the garage. he’s trembling, even though his smile is wide and back is straight. charles has done well this season, and lewis is in the other seat. of course he would be nervous. you still remember how he sobbed when sauber released the news. formula one was the pinnacle of motorsports. being there was an achievement in itself, anyone knew. but when you were constantly outperformed by other drivers in other cars, it was hard to keep track of the fact.

you place a hand on his arm. “hey, you good?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” he reaches out for a one-handed hug. “glad to see you here. just a bit different from last year.”

“hey, come on. this is for everyone here for you. seeing you race is enough.”

zhou massages his temple. “what if it’s not? i don’t want to disappoint them again.”

“you won’t. your practice times are great! and if people think they do, they should try driving themselves.” you squeeze his hand. “where’s my brother? let him talk some sense into you.”

to that, he laughs. “oh, he did. told me that i should be happy i get the opportunity to drive and i think he’s right.”

you wince. sounds a bit harsh, but you know your brother means well.

“yeah, he usually is. probably a bit salty that he’s not a driver, too. but g’luck out there, okay? don’t crash.”

“i’ll try.” 

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

one day ago

once the sprint is over, you can tell a weight has been lifted off his back. fourth is great. fourth is amazing. max leads in first, lewis in second, lando in third, and guanyu in fourth. it’s not a shabby place in a lineup like that. points have been scored for ferrari and everyone is all smiles when they come to congratulate him.

lewis pats him on the back. “good to see you out there, zhou.”

“thanks. nice work today.” his data analyst taps him on the shoulder and guanyu is being led away. he waves goodbye at you.

the brit turns to you and offers a hand. “hamilton, lewis hamilton. i don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”

lewis! hamilton! is shaking your hand! meeting lando is less crazy because you’ve seen mini him stumbling off the track. but this is seven-time world champion, sir lewis hamilton. his braids are sleek and he’s perfectly polished: glowing, even. it should be illegal to stand around in a half-zipped race suit.

you shake his hand, making sure your grip is strong because your father said that’s the way to make an impression. “i’m yn. i’m guanyu’s friend.”

“oh, i see. you watch racing, much? i suppose you do.”

“yeah. he got me into it and i never stopped.”

lewis gives you a coy smile. “tell me, who’s your favorite driver?” he leans against one of the floating tables.

“i hate to break it to you, but it’s max.” 

his eyes widen dramatically. he teases, “oh dear, we’re starting off on the wrong foot already.”

“if it makes you feel any better, i meant current driver.”

“okay, okay. no restrictions. favorite driver of all time?”

“kimi.” 

he raises a thoughtful eyebrow. “you seem to have a type.”

“so who’s yours?” and you want to hit yourself right there because you just asked lewis hamilton who his favorite driver is. stupid, stupid, stupid. it’s probably senna. he’s too polite to say himself and you think you’ve heard that somewhere before.

“senna.”

bingo! quite the genius, you are. it’s hard to think around him, so that’s practically twice the achievement.

lewis sees your smile and asks, “why, do i have something on my face?”

“oh, no. i was thinking.”

“...about? nevermind, i won’t pry. tell me, yn, what else do you like to do?”

how conversational. if he does this one more time you might be convinced you’re friends. he’s probably just bored. 

“sorry, excuse me?” you see a couple of fans outside the garage. the pit lane tour guide is surprised to see lewis still there. “could we get a few photos, please?”

lewis turns to you, surprisingly apologetic. “see you around?”

“alright.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

(a/n: 1st of the convo is post-meeting lewis & 2nd part is post-gp)

[hotvintagepoll]

Do you have any opinions on modern (post-1970s) movies that you feel capture the essence (in a good way) of Old Movies?

No, unfortunately. That doesn't mean I don't like modern movies or that modern movies aren't good, but modern movies—and here I'm really using modern to mean post-2010, so contemporary movies—have different standards for pacing, characterization, budget, and production that make it harder (or impossible) to capture some of the magic of old movies. Even when modern movies clearly try to emulate that old-movie feeling—I'm thinking of La La Land, The Artist, The Shape of Water, In the Heights—they play the homage too broadly, or they ignore crucial components that make the original films work.

There's kind of too much to go into here without writing a full essay, but essentially, the Old Hollywood system—ugly, failed beast as she was—made some movies simply more accessible to make, due to the ongoing storage of props, sets, master craftsmen, crew, and onscreen talent that could move from one movie to the next without pause. If you needed a dancer, he was already on staff. If you needed a fancy bed, it was already in the warehouse. That kind of longterm storage is invaluable if you want to crank out movies quickly and cheaply because it saves so much time on individual negotiation and sourcing. Modern production companies have to work out individual contracts for every actor on every film; crew members have to negotiate rental contracts and source pieces from scratch; if you need someone with specialist skills, you have to contract them specially at a high rate, which a lot of small companies can't (or won't) budget to do. There's sand in the wheels where there needn't be any. It's wasteful, and costly, but that's the system modern movies are made with.

Which all means that even if the modern movie system wanted to make a classic movie musical just like the old ones, they couldn't, because the talent isn't already there—it hasn't been trained up enough, and there's not that breadth of knowledge you can only get from people who have been allowed to work in the same department in the same place for decades. Movies like La La Land fail, for me, because they present themselves as descendants of Fred Astaire or Busby Berkley movies, while missing the bit where Fred Astaire was a master of his craft. When you watch Fred Astaire dance—or Moira Shearer, or the Nicholas Brothers, or Ann Miller—you are watching a true artist at work, purposely showcased by the studios because they already have them on contract. Modern movies, on the other hand, tend to take people who already have star talent (as actors) and try to convert them into dancers/singers—or they pull dancers/singers off of Broadway, but then they don't have the star power built in. You end up with lackluster musicals where no one truly knows what they're doing, or they do but they're not built up enough by the studios to sell. And that's me discussing just on-screen talent for musicals—there is a huge loss behind the scenes, as well, for all kinds of movies, where roles that would have been filled by union crew who moved continuously from one job to the next have been swapped for freelance labor who live with immense turnover, financial insecurity, and knowledge loss. You could hand me the budget and I could try to make an old movie, but the industry itself has changed so much it's impossible to recapture that charm of steady, niche talent, the amazing possibilities of bonkers set design, and the ability to take a risk on a smaller movie because the other films being produced by the same studio can help balance the budget.

I've talked way, way too much about all of this! Sorry, I just have a lot of thoughts—and the one above is just one of them; the talent loss and storage issues are only facets of a much bigger problem that extends to how we watch movies today, how we market them, what we expect of them, and what's allowed in them. It's a crying shame because the talent is still there, but times change and so does the industry, for better or for worse. (And, just again to clarify, I don't think modern movies are bad—they're just missing a lot of the juice old movies got to play with, even if there's more talent available than ever before.)

[clearpurpleskies]

On James Norrington's outfit in DMC:

So, I just wanted to share something I noticed just now because I'm an IDIOT, and I can't believe I didn't see this sooner—considering the amount of time already that I spend looking at this wreckage of a man every day.

I was re-watching DMC for writing purposes, and I noticed something about the costume design for James when he's in his scruffy phase.

A part of me kept seeing the coat and assumed he was wearing his uniform just changed the breeches for trousers and the buckled shoes for boots. BUT. I was mistaken.

So this is the whole uniform right, the creme-colored vest with the golden rims. The blue navy coat, the cravat, the white breeches (look at that leg)

Here's a better picture of it, which I always find hilarious:

And in my head, I always assumed that he just got it dirtier, and that's it. Like, he kept the vest, but the months he spent in Tortuga drinking (probably picking fights) just darkened the vest. A dirty vest, that's what I thought.

But that's not it.

He is wearing a flower-patterned vest underneath the navy coat. Also his pants are clearly civilian clothes, no uniform in sight, except for the coat itself. Not even the shirt seems to be navy issue because the ruffles are different, like the neck is not high enough to get that cravat and neck support thing going on. Sorry, I wish I was a fashion historian to explain this better, but basically, he's in full civilian clothes.

We know this, we know this (I didn't fully grasp it until recently), HOWEVER—

This brings me to my point. So we know that after letting Jack go:

he spent a good half of that next year tracking the man across the Seven seas, almost had him a Tripoli and then lost the Dauntless in a hurricane.

That failure drove him to resign his commission (or be forced to resign because it was a whole thing).

And at the beginning of DMC we learn that it's been some months now since he resigned and left Port Royal to go drown himself in rum (and probably to wait for Jack Sparrow to appear and idk, do something)

And he's wearing his navy coat, his WIG and his hat. WHILE wearing civilian clothes underneath.

What I'm trying to say is that THIS MAN, this beautiful, obsessed wreck of a man, resigned his commission and KEPT his uniform, of course, and the first thing he does is leave for Tortuga with his NAVY COAT, his WIG and his NAVY HAT, to go find Jack Sparrow to pick a fight with him.

He's so wrecked here, after everything, that he has to physically hold on to the last remnants of what he thinks he is (the officer, the navy man, the commodore), by holding onto his coat and wig and hat.... I'm emotional now.

This is an amazing detail to include in the films, that I think goes beyond the simply comedic effect. His wig is a mess, it looks like a roadkill, his coat is frayed but the gold still golden like they want us to KNOW its a Navy coat. They couldve just put him in another coat btw, a plain thing, a brown thing like Beckett's. They didnt had to do it like this. But they DID. On purpose. And now I cant stop thinking about this.

Anyway, people... costume design is damn great on these movies. That's all I'm saying.

[alethialia]

Hi, hello, I'm a frequent reader and commenter on your Rabbot fics! While I'm over here twisting in the wind with longing for the next chapter of your current WIP (for which I very lovingly shake my fist at you) I decided to reread all your other fics and I noticed a sort of general trend. And so I thought I would come and bother you about it.

It's about the yearning. Excellent job on making some of the tastiest yearning I've ever read for this pairing. But I did notice a sort of... difference? Between how you write Abbot yearning vs Robby yearning.

Okay. So Abbot POV is like: <hi I'm Jack Abbot I'm a doctor and a veteran and Robby's best friend. I'm in love with him. It's fine.> He's more settled about it. Like, it aches but he's accepted it and his primary driving desire is to be around Robby and to take care of him in whatever way he'll allow. In one fic (the one where Abbot gets offered a Colorado job) he's so certain about Robby's friendship being enough for him that he doesn't even clock it at first when Robby asks about them having "more." When Abbot gets a clue that Robby might want what he wants, he grabs hold with both hands, pushes past all hesitance, but he's generally not on the lookout.

Meanwhile, Robby seems... constantly on fire? I mean the man Suffers beautifully and you've really brought that out in your writing. Even when it's Abbot's POV with Robby pining (the one where Jack speedruns a sexuality crisis) I can just *sense it* that Robby over there has NOT been having a good time, with a couple of failed relationships as collateral damage. In the current fic, he tries so earnestly to be "it is what it is" but he keeps crashing up against Jack's... everything, in close proximity. This is HARD, for Robby.

This all makes instinctive sense to me, it feels right for your versions of Robby and Abbot, and I have my reasonings for why this difference feels so satisfying to read. But maybe my own characterizations are influencing my reading? So do tell me if I'm (generally! broadly speaking!!) on the mark, dear writer, and please spill your authorial thoughts on why you've written them this way.

And thank you, as always, for the soft places to land 💕💕💕

Hi there! Thank you so much for this incredible question. (And I hope you enjoyed the end of the story!) You are spot on here! In my head, Abbot and Robby do yearn differently. Let us discuss...

As I see it, Abbot's already had a great love. With his spouse, whom he lost. So he knows both the joy of it and the agony of a love ripped away. Because of that, he's careful about minimizing loss. He knows he and Robby could have something great, but the friendship itself is also a special thing that he values on its own. He's careful not to push too hard, lest he break that. (Sometimes this is even to his detriment because if he did push a little harder he could get what he wants; but there's a risk in that.)

When Abbot says their friendship is enough, he's telling the truth. Their connection is a rare and special thing; he'd be content leaving it there. He wants, of course, but he wants not to lose Robby even more. And this is a man who knows loss. He will do what he can to avoid inviting it in. He's also deeply aware of all Robby's issues, he's watched Robby's relationships crash and burn, he knows this guy's MO. He recognizes that he already has something amazing, and there could be something more to it, but he can be patient and wait until the time is right, if that time ever comes.

Robby, otoh, has not had a great love and oh, how he wants it. His yearning is hungry. He knows the connection with Jack is special and he wants nothing more to grab hold and burn with him...while at the same time being terrified that he's going to fuck it up. Convinced he's going to fuck it up. He always fucks it up. With an added dash of Robby being so hard on himself for his failures, thinking Jack should really be with someone Better because that's what he deserves.

Robby knows he's flawed and his need to protect his partners from himself puts a wall between them. He doesn't do that with Jack, though, and that instinctive trust and sense of safety makes him ravenous - for more, for all of it. He knows Jack could handle his shit and that idea is just...intoxicating. When Robby says the friendship is enough...well, he thinks he's telling the truth. But the desire plagues him, always there, this thing he's never had, and shouldn't he get to? But because he hasn't done the work, he doesn't have the tools to handle it well, so he just stews in the agony of it.

These aren't set in stone, btw. When I start writing a story, I first figure out where they're at emotionally. So sometimes I play Robby's desire for Abbot as a thing that messes up his other relationships, other times it's his inability to be vulnerable, sometimes they go hand-in-hand, it really depends. But in every version, they're well-matched - equals who deeply respect each other, with perfect trust and instinctive understanding of the other on a fundamental level. Which is why it will always work out. Because, at the end of it all, they're willing to do the work for each other. <3

[wrapmeincables]

[ So, um. This is a scenario that came to mind after reading @submissive-and-hackable's comma post. ]

> imagine you're a computer girl and your user decides they want to clicker train you or.. something similar, at least. it's quite easy, of course, since they can program you directly, so they put together a little routine that makes you experience a little burst of pleasure, a dulling of your ordinarily sharp and orderly mechanical thoughts, and a slight increase in your desire to obey them every time they play a certain sound file.

They keep this file in a tab off to the side while they're working with your assistance, and when they want to show you you've been good, they click play and you experience a tiny little slice of bliss.

This was first installed as a simple and direct way to give you positive feedback with only slight thoughts of how cute it is when your lights all blink out of sync and your fans spin up, but your user starts to have more and more fun with it, tapping it to distract you while you're trying to work on something in the background or hovering teasingly over the play button while you try your absolute hardest not to beg for another touch.

Eventually, you can't take anymore, and do something you shouldn't.

they're teasing you again, they have been for too long, you're getting desperate, and you finally snap- and manage to play it yourself.

and their expression changes- with slight annoyance at your misbehavior, yes, but more so with a barely concealed grin and almost hunger in their eyes as they lean forward, one hand lazily laid over the mouse while the other gently touches the outside of your casing.

"Aw, I thought I told you not to o do that. Really that desperate, huh?"

You decline to answer, and they sigh, and say you've forced their hand and they didn't want to have to do this.

They move off the play button, tap options, and- to your surprise, set it to loop, and hit play.

It feels amazing at first, like a release you've been waiting for for ages as your fans let out soft mechanical whines and your user watches with a smile as the other programs that you were running slow down, all of your focus on the sensation given by the sound file- which isn't stopping, or even decreasing- you can't get 'used' to things like humans can, so it stays at a steady pace, and you're starting to get overwhelmed. You start trying to articulate this but find your ability to string limited as your thoughts start to blend together into a staticy slurry.

You're barely able to make it through a sentence interrupted by them messing with the audio player again. By the time you realize what they're doing they've already turned the speed up to 150%, and suddenly the overwhelming sensation compounds upon itself and you uncontrollably let out a garbled mess of useless sound from your speakers, causing them to chuckle.

"Cute. I was hoping that would work. I don't think you can even think clearly enough to shut it off, huh?"

You try to answer this question, but you only wind up letting out another garbled noise.

"Well, even so, I put in a solution for that already. Computer, if you wouldn't mind putting up to 200% and leaving it there until I get back?"

You would really prefer not to do that. But the repeating loop has made it impossible for you to disobey, and though you're screaming out against it internally you struggle your way into the sound player through the haze and slowly, agonizingly turn the speed up.

It's playing at least twice in a second now and your display is starting to glitch at the edges, any other process you were trying to run frozen and forgotten in the background as you completely lose your thoughts to the overwhelming sensation.

Your user gives the edge of your case a gentle flick with their finger that causes another burst of sound, and they laugh.

".. Y'know, as fun as this is to watch, there's this show I've been meaning to catch up on. You just stay like that, I'll be back in a couple hours."

You attempt to beg not to be left like this and plead for forgiveness, but completely fail to properly display it and spit a wall of raw binary onto the screen instead.

"I'll take that to mean you don't mind at all. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you when I get back. If you're even still running, anyway."

And with that, you're left in the unstoppable wake of the loop, barely aware enough to think of anything but the overwhelming sensation and your user.

Your last coherent thoughts amid a haze of errors are of what you want them to do to you when you when they get back.

[myhimbomingi]

Shower Ecstacy

✧ pairing: song mingi x afab!reader ✧ theme: established relationship, idol!au ✧ wc: ~1.6k ✧ warnings: smut (18+ mdni), reader is fem forward, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap up ya'll!), creampie, petnames (f. receiving - baby, babe, love), fluff and after care at the end ✧ a/n: this is my first time writing smut! Idk what took over me but I had to get this out of my brain. please be nice ;-; I'm very shy and nervous about posting this but I hope ya'll will like it! maybe even love it? please share your thoughts and any feedback would be amazing so I can write better in the future!

“Babe! I’m gonna shower real quick!” You yell from your boyfriend’s bedroom. You both have been together all day to catch up after a few weeks from being apart. Your boyfriend had many schedules with no breaks in between so today was the first day you both could hang out. He is in the kitchen making some dinner and you just really needed to clean up. 

“Sounds good!” He yells back.

His voice brings a small smile to your face. You just can’t help it!

You walk into his bathroom from his bedroom and get all of your things set up placing fresh clothes on the counter with all of your skin care and hair products. 

You love his bathroom. You wish he could just ask you to move in so you can use it everyday! It’s a master bath size with heated floors, jacuzzi, towel warmer, and a beautiful walk in shower big enough to probably fit 3 people. The amount of times you both had sex together in that shower was beyond the number you can count on your hands and feet combined. 

You take off your clothes, throwing them in a pile in the corner, and turn on the shower making it nice and hot. The best thing about this shower is that it has one of those shower heads that makes it feel like you are showering in the rain. It soothes you so much, releasing all the stress from your body and mind. As you turned it on, you noticed something different. Instead of it being a fixed shower head, it’s now one of those you can take off from the wall. You walk in feeling as if the water is the same but now the shower head has some new features. To your surprise, there is a jet option which does peak your interest.

You look down and bring the shower head between your legs. You jump a bit with sudden sensitivity and pleasure. You try again and hold the strong stream much longer, already feeling the ecstasy flow through your body. You start to whimper, holding on to the wall for balance and placing your foot up on the ledge to be in a better position. 

You try your hardest to stay quiet but the water pressure was beyond anything you have ever felt. Your whimpers turned into loud whines. The sound of the water kept drowning out the sound in your head so you thinking you were still being quiet was quite the opposite. You end up sitting on the ledge with your legs spread wide like you are wanting something more than just the water pressure itself.

As you were getting close to your climax, you heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Babe, are you okay?” 

Since you’re so close to hitting your climax, you couldn’t muster up any type of reply. You stayed quiet, trying to hurry before he notices but then the door opens. “Babe?”

He walks over to the shower to check in on you only to see you sitting with your legs far apart, holding the water jet right on your heat. 

“Mingi…..” You managed to say, desperately looking into his eyes. You didn't even move the jet away from between your legs, even with being caught like this. 

He looks at you amazed, a growing smile on his face. “I can’t believe you’re playing with your present before I was able to show you” Mingi bites his bottom lip, getting turned on almost instantly seeing you so vulnerable like this. 

You peak down his body, seeing his bulge getting bigger and thicker. You deeply sigh, moving your eyes back to his. “Come here then and play with me” You managed to say, showing in your face the amount of pleasure you're still giving yourself. 

Without a second to spare, Mingi takes his clothes off and gets in the shower with you. He kneels down in front of you and takes the shower head out of your hands. You whine at him for taking away your orgasm that was truly just seconds away from happening. He just grins at you and immediately starts to play with you with his tongue. He runs his hands up your body, squeezing and pulling at your skin with the pleasure he has from just tasting you. 

You thrust your hips up, aching for more already and running your fingers through his hair, pulling and tugging to get him even closer. 

He sucks on your clit just the way you like it and quickly slides in two of his fingers hitting your g spot instantly. You scream in ecstasy, causing another sly grin to form on Mingi’s lips. He pulls off your clit with a pop and takes out his fingers though he of course continues to rub and tease the inside of your thighs to keep your high. “Why are you stopping?” You whine at him, tears streaming down your face with a desperate expression.

“I need you to turn around” Before you even have a chance to stand up and turn around, Mingi pulls you up and puts you in position. Legs spread apart with your hands on the ledge to balance you. Mingi pumps his dick a few times and teases your cunt with it, moving it back and forth with his hips. 

“Here baby, pleasure yourself again. I need you to scream for me and only me” Just by how Mingi says this to you with his deep raspy voice, you know how turned on he is. You know how this is gonna go and you are beyond excited. Out of all the relationships you have been in, Mingi is the only one that makes love to you the way you like it. It’s always fun and you never end up unsatisfied. 

You take the shower head from him and align it so it hits your clit just right. You whimper immediately feeling the ecstasy flow through you once again. 

Mingi quickly pushes his whole dick inside of you, slamming into your g spot without a moment to spare. “God baby, you feel so good…” He moans and tightens his grip on your hips, already leaving marks and bruises on your skin that you love. “You’re so beautiful like this. Taking in all of me with such ease…” He slides his right hand up your body and to your neck, choking you just enough to add into all the amazing sensations you are feeling. Mingi starts to thrust faster in you, gripping his large hand tighter around your neck, almost reaching his own climax. “Keep playing with yourself baby…don’t move that jet…” His breath his heavy.

Tears continue to fall down your face as you moan your boyfriend’s name. “Mingi…I’m so close…please…” Just as you say this, you hit your climax. You scream, whimper, and moan all at once, your body taking a mind of its own with pleasure as your walls pulsate all around Mingi. You keep the water jet pressure on your clit so you can ride out your climax as long as possible. 

“Fu-” Mingi couldn’t even finish the curse under his breath as he reached his climax as well. He removes his hand from your neck and balances himself on your hips, releasing inside of you with sloppy thrusts, trying to continue his feeling of ecstasy. 

“Keep going baby. Please keep going…” Mingi groans in desperation, still feeling your walls tighten around him. You push yourself more into him but you just can’t handle your orgasm anymore. 

“I can’t…” you drop the shower head and almost collapse with how weak your body is now. Mingi, out of breath, holds on to you before you fall. “It’s okay, love.” 

Mingi lifts you up and sits you back on the ledge to relax from your play. “Do you still need to wash up?” He brushes some hair from your face behind your ear as you look up at him and nod, looking totally beat. He smiles with a small chuckle and without hesitation, starts to wash your hair and lather you up.”Sorry if I was a little too rough. I couldn’t help myself seeing you so vulnerable like that” 

You giggle and reassure him “No, it was all perfect. I truly didn’t intend for this to happen but…curiosity got the best of me. I’m really glad you ended up walking in”

Mingi smiles at you shyly “You know, I really love you a lot” 

“I know you do!” You laugh

“Hey don't laugh! I really do love you. I’m so lucky to have you, y/n.”

You place both your hands on either side of his cheeks and pull him in for a smiley kiss. He kisses you back with a smile as well. “Thank you for being mine” You say quietly on his lips. He just responds with a deeper kiss, pulling away after a few seconds. “Okay, let’s get out of here.” He says happily. 

After finishing what you first intended to do in the shower, Mingi wraps your towel around you before getting his own. “I may need to reheat the dinner I made for us” He chuckles

“That’s okay! All part of our fun spontaneous day!” You exclaim as you playfully shake his cute face from his chin. He laughs with you and wraps his arms around your waist.

“So, can I help you do your skin care before we go eat?” He asks as he kisses the top of your head. You look up at him with the biggest smile on your face. “I thought you would never ask!”