#without having to make some effort to get their ass up there

[lupusaur]

Haiyaaaa same anon from last time. The purebreed! reader x Bob has me on a chokehold. Fr fr

Sooo I have some Ramblings for us to muse over

Do you think purebreed! reader could ever forgive him? I know it's a part of their dom/sub dynamic (v hot btw) but I can just imagine Bob doing anything and everything reader asks of him in a desperate attempt to win her over.

You want him to clean the room? He'll clean the entire compound, just say the word. You want him to eat you out? Bih, you better bet he's on his knees in a heartbeat ready to go to town for the next two hours, or until you come at least six times. He's an overachiever when it comes to you.

He's also a little bitch when it comes to making you "like" him at least (you tolerate him at best).

He cries whenever you don't introduce him as your husband (he isn't even your boyfriend).

You can bet he's sobbing his heart out when he sees you washing out his cum after "surely pupping you" (you just had to take a shower before running some errands)

u gotta get out of my walls bc i was actually drafting up an idea of reader not hating him as much anymore

but u right again so ill let it slide this once!

previous purebreed!reader rambles: one and two and three

He wants to be helpful and useful so if it means being your servant for the rest of his life he will literally kiss the ground you walk on.

I think Bob would also take advantage of your comment about leaving him in the vault and use it to speed up the process of you liking him back. He can't bring it up too often but when he feels you're starting to realize that you're liking him a bit he begs you to not leave him, that he'll be good and do better. Whether it's fucking his knot into you, eating you out, cooking you a meal, doing your chores, grooming your fur, massaging your sore muscles, licking you clean, scenting you, anything you want him to do.

And it's so hard to continue to hate him. He's such a good alpha that the omega part of you is swooning. You know that he didn't know the consequences of mating marks for omegas because of his upbringing and lack of education but he's doing a lot better now. Also, Bob may be a pathetic horny mutt with a thick cock and a big knot but he's also an indestructible god with a thick cock and a big knot. Anyone would dream of being in your position, regardless of their secondary gender. He just so happens to be a mutt, which you were raised to believe is lower class compared to you, but he wasn't that bad. You're sure if he were raised in a better environment Bob would be at the same level you are. Right, you can just teach him the things he needs to know. For starters, stop humping your ass as soon as he has you in a secluded corner.

Bob can see his efforts of worshipping you paying off. How you're slowly coming to terms with reciprocating his feelings for you. Especially after your cycle. Seeing you below him so eager for his knot, begging him to fill you with his seed, to rub it onto your skin so his scent would be on you for days, you were so different from the prim and proper dog he was used to. He was thankful his rut wasn't soon, as he'd rather remember the way you obediently swallowed his spit without him asking. Did you know how dirty you are during your heat? Surely you must be aware of how you whined and complained that he's denying you his knot because of what you said a while ago (he would never) and how you'd be a good little omega and carry his pups. Crying about how you need his knot or you'd die, kissing and licking the messy scar of a mating mark to convey that his little omega has to be knotted and filled. Preferably six times before the sun rises.

You may play stupid when your heat is over and deny ever saying such vulgar things, even calling him a liar but it's okay. Bob can just record your voice next time.

Don't get me started on not even introducing him as your husband.

Yes the two of you have a bond mark, yes the two of you fuck, yes he's given you his knot and seed more times than you can count (he thinks its never enough), but you don't refer to him as your husband? When Bob sees the two of you as already married?? He keeps his composure as your tolerance(turning into small affection) for him would lower if he started crying and whimpering in public. So when the two of you are alone, he has enough tears and snot in the tank as he hugs your leg asking through sobs and hiccups why you didn't call him your husband. The two of you are mated for life now. Even if you die before him, he'll die with you. He'll find a way. A life without you is a life not worth living after all. Do you not love him? Were you just stringing him along because he's the Sentry?

Will you toss him aside like everyone else when he's not useful?

You wonder how his brain works sometimes. Were you mistaken about him having a high-school diploma? Well he's from Florida anyway, they hand them out like candy. But how is he smart but stupid at the same time?

“I do love you and I won't leave you, but we haven't had sex during your rut and my heat, so we aren't married.” You can take suppressants to prevent your cycles from syncing.

“But…I saw you— you washed out the cum— our pups! In the shower! You asked to carry my pups but now they'll become sewer babies!”

He has to have been given a diploma just so they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. Either that or Bob didn't finish high-school. Is it legal to give the Sentry Serum to someone this dumb? “I had to run errands and it just came out while I showered. You can just try again later.” Bob pressed his face against your thigh, exhaling shakily. Was he…? Yes. He was humping away at your leg like the stupid mutt he is. “What if they were twins? I want— need twins. I'll take care of them. We could have triplets. Or four. I'll keep you full until we have our own peewee soccer team. You want that right? Need it too? Please tell me you do. Please tell me you can't live without my love inside of you—!” He slid up to lick at your underwear, inhaling deeply at the smell of you. Now that you returned from your errands your scent was more prominent than the soap. But it was when he noticed the mixture of his own, he lost it and moaned, rutting against your leg with a new purpose.

You don't think you'll bring up the fact the pills you've been taking are for birth control. Or that you're doing everything known to man that prevents pregnancy. You may tolerate him, but not enough to put your job on hold.

[loganwritesprobably]

Bed, without sleeping

Synopsis: Law is laying in bed, alone as usual, but he can’t help imagining what it’d be like to have you sleep beside him. Some good old yearning, but it’s a little horny too Tags/Warnings: Law/GN!Reader, black!Reader, nsfw, pre-relationship, Law masturbates while thinking about reader, but he’s mostly thinking about fluffy things Word count: 765 Notes: I’ve never written for an explicitly black reader before, though I make a conscious effort to make my other fics inclusive of black readers having seen posts about certain things. Which is to say - if there’s any advice/tips/constructive criticism you’d like to offer so I could do better in future, I’d super appreciate it! I’m whiter than milk so this is very much not my area of expertise

Law had met you six months ago, on an island he barely remembered and certainly couldn’t name. None of that information was important compared to you. He’d been fascinated by you from the moment he first lay eyes on you, though he managed to treat you the same as anyone else. He was good at pushing people away, keeping them at arm’s length for the sake of self preservation. Unfortunately, it was getting harder and harder to do that when it came to you. 

It was already late, he should already be asleep, and yet there he was staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, but every time he closed his eyes, images of you flooded his mind. Visions of your melanated skin glistening as you mop the deck, the physical exertion forcing you to unzip your boiler suit and tie it around your waist to avoid overheating; visions of you groaning at the mirror in the shared bathroom as you braided your own hair, harms sore and beginning to feel heavy, but refusing to give up on your task before it was finished; visions of your hands wrapped around a glass of whatever cool drink you’d chosen, making him imagine how good your hands would look wrapped around something else.

It was inappropriate and he knew it, but he just couldn’t help it. He thought you were gorgeous, he always had, and laying alone in his bed at night only seemed to amplify his newfound habit of letting his mind wander. Law turned to lay on his side and pulled one of his pillows to his chest, long ways, as if he was holding someone close. This was a new low, even for him. He buried his face in the pillow, breathing in deeply as he imagined your distinctive scent - one of these days he should really ask what perfume or cologne you wear because it was addictive - as if you’d previously slept beside him and now his pillow was retaining the smell of you. 

Images of your body flooded into his mind, how you’d look wrapped up in his arms, beside him, beneath him. Absently, he began rutting his hips against the pillow, holding it just that little bit tighter to give himself more friction. Even as his body moved, as if with a mind of its own, more innocent images flitted through his mind. You laughing with Ikkaku, arm wrestling Shachi, on Jean Bart’s back to adjust the flag when you weren’t beneath the water’s surface, arms wrapped around Clione as he leaned over the edge of the ship to look at something he was sure he’d seen amongst the waves, standing in the kitchen with Bepo, cooking something for everyone to share. You’d introduced Shachi’s white ass to spicy food, and told Penguin about dry brushing, you’d insisted on adding coconut oil to the regular grocery list, and you’d even slapped Law once. He remembered that moment fondly. 

Though he certainly craved you and your body, it was your mind and heart that he cared for most. He wanted to protect your heart with his blade, and sharpen your mind with shared wit. He maybe also wanted to pin you beneath him and slam into you from behind, but that was neither here nor there. Above all, he wanted the chance to call you his.  To have you lay beside him each night, in your underwear, bonnet on to protect your hair, in the state you insisted was your ugliest so he could press kisses over every inch of your dark skin and whisper to you just how wrong you were. He thought you were stunning no matter how you looked - he’d think you were perfect in a trash bag, covered in shit. 

As Law came over his pillow, shame mixed with post-orgasmic bliss churning in his stomach, the image of your eyes rolled back as you came along with him overtook his senses, and he could only wish that it was real. Law tossed aside his soiled pillow, making a mental note to wash it in the morning.

Finally, after that, he was able to fall asleep. But, you followed him into slumber, and his dreams were filled with domestic bliss with you at his side and he knew deep in his bones that he didn’t care what came next in his life because he’d be strong enough to face it if only he could keep you close, to be sure you were safe and well, and he could make sure that nobody would hurt you again.

Tag list: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable @hyperfixationthingss @fanaticsnail @mermaniaa

If you'd like to tip me you can head over to my Kofi

[transthatmasc]

I love the concept that Viktor ends up with Jayce’s last name through some originally non-romantic means so much that I have multiple versions.

Jayce accidentally gives Viktor his last name by being so insistent on putting Viktor’s name first in every circumstance. When he’s listing their names on anything he puts them down as “Viktor and Jayce Talis”. When he introduces them to people he says “Nice to meet you, this is Viktor and I’m Jayce Talis” with a pause before Talis because he always forgets that he should say his house name too. Viktor slowly starts to notice that they’re referred to in the tabloids as “the Talises” and that higher ups at the academy will introduce him to investors as “Viktor Talis” without Jayce even being there.

When they first start working together, they put their initials next to things in their shared notes to mark when they have questions or agree with something the other wrote, or to differentiate when someone is dictating while the other talks. In an effort to not have it confused with a variable, Viktor initials VT (VikTor) as a bit of a joke to look similar to Jayce’s JT. However, one day when Heimerdinger is looking over their notes, he marks out a question in the margin for Viktor with “Viktor Talis” written out next to it in full. Viktor and Jayce debate for a moment after he leaves if it was supposed to mean it was for both of them, but the contents of the question makes it entirely clear that Heimerdinger things VT stands for Viktor Talis and has accepted that Viktor has adopted Jayce’s last name with no questions.

At the beginning of Hextech, as they are trying to get investors, Viktor regularly gets identified as being from the undercity and harassed for it by wealthy Pilties when he tells them his name is “just Viktor” when asked what house he is from. So one day Jayce suggests just telling investors that his last name is also Talis, thinking that people will assume they are brothers. Viktor gets flustered and tries to politely decline, but Jayce seems to confident that he lets it happen. It takes him weeks to figure out that Jayce doesn’t realize that everyone thinks they’ve gotten married or plan to. Viktor doesn’t have the heart to tell him and won’t let Mel break the illusion.

Jayce takes Viktor on a tour of the forge and when he gets done takes a hammer to jokingly knight him and dub him “officially part of house Talis” Jayce thinks nothing of it until the next time they meet someone new together when he almost spits out his drink hearing Viktor introduce himself as “Viktor Talis”

Some investor that they fucking hate can’t keep their names straight for some reason but always sees Jayce wearing his house sigil so he says “ah, Viktor Talis” every time he sees Jayce. They find it so fucking funny that even just saying “Viktor Talis” sends them into uncontrollable laughter.

Ximena refers to them exclusively as “my boys” to the point that most people who met her after Hextech was founded assume that she has two sons, Jayce Talis and Viktor Talis. She doesn’t feel the need to correct them as she does truly love them both as her children and is also quietly hoping one day Jayce will get his head out of his ass and ask Viktor out on a date.

[grotesquevi]

18+ minors & men dni, fingering, domestic!vi, dirty talk, this is basically sleepy, lazy sex in the middle of the night, kinda sweet dunno.

side note  # if you recognize this, might be because this is a piece from my previous blog vicorices (terminated blog 2025-2025 r.i.p) so this is my new account. i'm trying to get all my writing back up slowly and with my whole heart. this is a celebration since may is finally over and we are now entering june with the right foot. check out my arcane directory to check out the process of re-uploading fics. someday i'll get there.

nighttime is vi’s favorite time of the day. the long summer nights that seem eternal under the barely noticeable stars in the sky, the lonely moon hanging high as her breathing collides with the back of your neck, holding you tightly against the planes of her body as silence finally fills the room.

two in the morning, three, the two of you have fallen in a comfortable routine where you keep on talking until you randomly look at the clock and shit: you have work tomorrow, vi has shit to do as well so the lights are out and she’s holding you beneath the sheets, cuddling as she tries to sleep, concentrated in your breathing, your soft skin and how relaxed everything feels laying right next to you, anything but your ass barely covered by the oversized shirt she can feel without seeing it.

“are you asleep already?” she cannot help to ask after some minutes, and you hum trying to make her shut up. “how do you fall asleep so quickly? it’s not fair.”

vi would love the talent on herself, but there’s always something: the bed’s too comfortable, too silent, too peaceful. her life has always been rough and fast, so she rolls in bed until her eyes close by themselves, hugging you tightly as a reminder you’re on her side, that her lone days are over — a reassurance that the thin duvets she’s sleeping in does not belong not even near stillwater.

“don’t sleep,” she moves you slightly at first, a couple of seconds until she’s downright shaking you. “baby, wake up. don’t leave me, i want some kisses.”

it’s been a long day. vi’s muscles are sore and you’re barely able to keep an eye open, but either way you’re putting an effort on stretching out to reach for a kiss, looking at her from over your shoulder as you purse your lips together for a quick peck vi wastes no time in taking.

and the thing is, it should be a quick kiss. should cause vi’s kissing you again and again until you seem to get the memo, parting your lips slightly to let her tongue push warm and wet against your bucal cavity, playfully touching yours as you are slow to return the kiss, allowing it anyhow. her kisses are so damn nice for a reason, when her hoop ring squishes against your own nose and she’s wishing to kiss you for as long as her breathing allows it to.

“vi,” you say, trying to catch on your breath for a moment as your cheek touches back the pillow again, resting — “i’d like more, but i’m just so tired.”

she’s smiling. even in the darkness of the room you can’t see much but you feel her, and vi does not have much choice here, not when she loves the sound of your voice betraying you cause you do want more, even when it’s impossible for you to move any muscle.

“it’s okay,” she whispers in your ear after a second or two “i know you do. there’s no need to move here, sweetheart.”

you’d call it lazy fucking cause it don’t take much to cum. a quickie even, a forty minute long session that don’t qualify as a quickie really, but it’s close enough for both of you, in your own terms. vi’s urging you to come closer, and as fast as you fall asleep you’re now on your back, laying comfortable as she demands more kisses.

her fingers don’t miss a second to spread your legs open, and suddenly it’s like she’s all over, making you move until she’s pressed on your side, hovering right above you — and usually she’d have you back pressed against her chest on nights like this, kneading on your breasts, breathing in your skin, but she wants to see you. wants to notice your features, your pretty face distorting with the pleasure she brings in plain dark, kiss you when you fall apart engulfing your sinful sounds, whispering sweet words to drive you closer to the edge.

simple as that.

so vi hates it when she gets tired too, cause finger-fuck you? it’s a huge fucking effort. stopping once in a while for a second or two from the sore feeling in her muscles after a long day, making you chuckle lowly between erratic moans as she touches you just right how you want to; she’s fucking burning at that point.

“i’m sorry,” vi whispers against your neck, but she don’t really mean it— “doin’ my best here.”

her digits force themselves at your entrance, coating them with clear arousal as she fills you up, curling as she happens to know your body, those points you enjoy almost too much, the places that make you cum.

she’s doing it on purpose either way, teasing you. even when there’s this sound filling the room each time she sinks down and you’re awake as ever now, moving your hips against the palm of vi’s hand in search for more friction against your sensitive cunt, she’s taking her time cause sleep can wait, your needs? that’s different.

“fuck you’re so tight,” she whispers against your neck before you’re pulling on your shirt upwards, squirming against the wrinkled sheets to rise it above your tits, nipples already aching for her touch. even in the dark, violet notices the soft expanse of your bare skin colliding against her own, the smell of flowers in your skin as you recently switched to a new fragrance. “greedy. greedy whore always asking for more.”

the words slur together when she speaks: can you blame her? it’s impossible not to when her mouth catches up your hard nipple between her lips and tongue, that sweet tongue of her’s, swirls around it, wide licks before her mouth closes around to suck, fucking you deeper with her digits buried in your pussy — and you moan, cause the motherfucker bites on your chest lightly, enough to send shivers down your spine.

she’s good at driving you crazy, every. single. time.

“there you go baby. always s’good for me” vi praises with a smile. “do you hear how wet you are from just a little kiss? gonna make my girl cum.”

there’s something about the dark, cause vi loves to see you, fucking you with all the lights on so she can see every part of you, your very own fiber — but like that? it has so many perks too, a lot when she focus on your moans, the roughness on your voice each time you pant her name, the feeling of your warm cunt evolving her fingers, squeezing them like your own consciousness is trying to draw them deeper, harder. it makes her rely on her senses.

“ngh-m’gonna cum vi,” your voice is so fucking soft, like you’re recovering from being dizzy seconds before saying it, weak as you move faster. you’re leaking on the damn mattress beneath you as your body seems to function on it’s own — and it’s all it takes to make the earth stop spinning on it’s axis, the rippling orgasm pouring like hot fire in your skin as a loud moan leaves your lips, making your brain melt away in your own system.

vi enjoys watching you come undone, the shaking in your legs as you reach out to kiss her, the messy and sloppy kiss you give her in plain ecstasy that’s nothing but teeth and tongue, roughly passing your tongue against her parted lips.

your breathing is heavy and god, vi wishes to turn the lights on just to see that fucked out expression in your face, the way your brows furrow as you’re sensitive when she’s withdrawing her fingers, licking them clean like they’re full of ambrosia and not your clear arousal.

your intentions are clear afterwards when you’re pushing your knee between her parted, inviting legs, leaving an invisible trail of kisses against the column of her exposed skin; that tattoo on her neck you’ve seen many times before now brushing against your lips — your girlfriend is a mess already when you touch her, needy as she grinds desperate for her own release.

it doesn’t take much to make her cum either way, and when she finally falls asleep, you think that’s the fastest way to make her actually rest.

a win is a win after all.

[bloomiize]

perv/gooner!jake is gross and he's gotten even worse

part one two three

perv!jake finally asks for your instagram when you're paired up for a project. It’s not like he doesn’t already know it by heart. Not like he hasn’t jerked off to every single one of your posts. Not like he wasn’t drooling over that innocent little selfie you posted last night. He just wants you to know he exists now. And you happily exchange Instagrams with him like it’s nothing.

perv!jake tells his roommate everything. He asks for advice on how to get closer to you, more specifically, how he could get his dick wet.

"She sounds hot. If you ever wanna recreate that hentai scene, let me know." Jake and his roommate have always joked around about sex, but this time it felt real. Too real. His dick is already begging to be touched at the thought of fucking you, he doesn't mind if he isn't the only one.

perv!jake made an effort to get to know you. Your favourite colour, the way you like your coffee, the songs you hum when you're zoning out. He also knows how you always tug your skirt down when you think it’s ridden up too high, not high enough in his opinion. How you're so naive to just bend over without thinking, right in front of him. He knows you prefer lacy panties over thongs, soft and girly, the kind he imagines peeling off you with his teeth. He’s memorized you. Every inch. Every habit. Every sound you make.

perv!jake likes how close you two are now. You always invite him over to study, to work on the project like good classmates. And yeah, maybe he’s looked through your drawers when you’re in the kitchen. Maybe he’s taken a not-so-innocent glance at your laundry basket, eyes locked on the crumpled pair of panties sitting right on top.

He’s thought about it.

Pocketing a bra, a pair of panties, hell—even a sock. Just something. Anything that smells like you. Feels like you. Something he can wrap around his fist while he jerks off to the thought of your soft little voice saying his name.

It’s disgusting. He knows that. Still doesn’t stop him.

perv!jake can never make it halfway through the door without his dick twitching. Can you really blame him, though? You’re always wearing a tiny tank top, no bra, and he can see everything. Your shorts, if you can even call them that, barely cover your ass, riding up with every step you take. Jake nearly cums in his pants right then and there.

perv!jake helps you solve a complicated problem, and you light up like he’s the smartest boy in the world. As a sign of your appreciation, you hug him, tight, soft, your tits pressing right up against his chest like it's nothing.

And he moans.

Quiet. Slips out before he can even think. You don’t seem to notice. You just keep smiling, thanking him like you can't feel something hard pressed against you. His dick’s already leaking, he can feel it.

He clears his throat, cheeks red. “I- uh, I’m not really feeling the best. I think I’m gonna head out early.”

You pout, sweet and worried, and offer to get him some water, maybe let him lie down, hoping he'll stay a bit longer. But he’s already opening the door.

Because he needs to get home. Now. He’s seconds from cumming in his pants, and he knows once he’s alone he’s gonna jerk it to the feeling of your tits against him—again and again until he’s lightheaded and shaking.

gooner!jake cant stop thinking about you, or more specifically, your tits. Its hard not to when they're so perfect. Soft, warm, and pushed against him when you hugged. He swears you did it on purpose, not that he minds. He can't stop fucking the panties he took from your apartment a few days ago when you had him over, surely you didn't notice they went missing. They're dirty and sticky from his fluids but he can't stop, he wont stop. Jake's not proud of it but this is the closest he's getting to fucking your perfect pussy.

gooner!jake got a call from you in the middle of edging himself for the third time tonight.

"Hey! Did you make it home okay? You left in a hurry and you said you weren't feeling well..." Your voice rings through his head. He's gripping his dick tighter now, still moving his hand up and down. He can't just cum immediently to the sound of your voice, that would be so embarrassing. He has to last longer for you.

"Y-yeah I made it home fine. T-thanks" Jake's holding back moans. It's disgusting how even when he's on the phone he won't stop. He cock is throbbing in agony, he's been edging himself non stop and he so desperately wants to cum, to feel you, to fill you up.

"You don't sound sound okay Jakey, you should've just stayed. I would've taken care of you." You say it so innocently that Jake loses it. He lets out a groan and thrusts his hips violently into his hand. Jake knows your panties are ruined by him but it doesn't stop him from shoving it into his mouth, pretending he's tasting your sweet cunt against his dirty tongue

How could you just say that so casually? Calling him Jakey? Saying you would've taken care of him?

You have no idea what you do to him.

"f-f-fuck y/n. I want you so fucking b-bad." It slips out of Jake's mouth before he realizes it.

"Walking around with those t-tiny shorts. I should've just be-bent you over." His brain is practically gone at this point, all he cares about is cumming. His eyes are rolling to the back of his head while his hand moves furiously. He's moaning loudly enough that you could hear him through the phone. He doesn't care anymore; he wants to be gross for you, if you'd let him.

"I'm go-gonna cum, fu-fuck!" His hips sputtered into his fist and thick, hot ropes of cum sprayed all over his phone. He's oversentive from edging himself nonstop, brain completely empty and dick still hard.

gooner!jake realizes that you were still on the phone, you didn't hang up. Before he can apologize, your small voice comes out,

a whimper.

Are you... are you touching yourself to him right now?

from bloomiize: tysm for reading the first part!! I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to ask for a part 2, let alone enjoy my writing 😭 I was super nervous posting >< but your support means everything!! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for part 3 !!

taglist (OMG I HAVE A TAGLIST?!?! if you commented on part 1 I tagged you, lmk if you wanna be removed! ^^)

@femmefqtqle @seobinghard @maysshade @dark-moon-light02 @jjongsies @nikismyprincesses @iaaespa @heeseungsbm @shy9-29

[starcurtain]

I know everyone sees Itto as Genshin's comedic relief, but I'm telling you all, Alhaitham is actually the funniest character in Genshin Impact.

According to the fandom, he's hot, he's famous, he's the one in charge of the house...

But according to the people of Sumeru? Dude became grand sage and not a single NPC around the city had a thing to say about that. Sachin's son got his ass beat and he didn't even know who Alhaitham was; it was just "some guy in green." People on the streets are said to not even notice Alhaitham, let alone be able to identify him by appearance. The only time we ever hear NPCs directly commenting on Alhaitham, it's Siraj's collective who hate Alhaitham's guts. Dori refuses to work with him. Random Eremites call him a lunatic within two minutes of meeting him.

Alhaitham's reputation in Sumeru is "Who? Ah, that guy? I heard he's weird," and then everyone moves on.

Meanwhile, Kaveh is literally famous enough to have an epithet ("the Light of Kshahrewar"), is the lead architect on entire city redesigns, and was trusted before Alhaitham's take over to do work on the Akademiya itself. He built the most famous landmark in the rainforest outside of the Divine Tree. He's well-known enough that people bank on his reputation to start scams; people send their children to take courses with him in the belief that it will bless them with successful future careers. He's known for philanthropic endeavors to help the poor and disadvantaged. He won the Interdarshan Championship. This is the Sumeru equivalent of winning an Olympic gold medal!!

Kaveh is the Taylor Swift to Alhaitham's Travis Kelce. They might have independent success, but in every measurement of public sentiment, Kaveh vastly outshines Alhaitham, and the fandom should really take a step back and think about how hilarious this makes everything about their situation in canon.

For the few in Sumeru who are actually paying attention, sure, Alhaitham is the (former) acting grand sage who makes a pretty penny and owns the house Kaveh lives in. For the average majority of Sumeru's citizens who are way more likely to know Kaveh? Alhaitham is literally just "that guy who is shacked up with the Light of Kshahrewar."

Kaveh's efforts to keep where he lives a secret just makes him come across like one of those reclusive types of artists who value their privacy. Half the public in Sumeru probably think he just prefers to keep himself and his lover out of the limelight. Kaveh was so busy pretending not to be poor, he forgot that every ounce of pretending he does just helps him keep his own celebrity status. The harder he attempts to act secretive about where he lives and with whom, the more it comes across as "Please respect this famous person's privacy and stop asking about the details of his relationship."

And Alhaitham, for whom being "that guy who is shacked up with the Light of Kshahrewar" is THE life goal? Everything is going according to keikaku. Kaveh has convinced the entirety of Sumeru that he and Alhaitham are in a relationship, all without Alhaitham having to lift a finger. The more determined Alhaitham gets to fly under the radar, the more it looks like he's Kaveh's kept man. If you aren't living with him because you're broke, then why are you living with him, Kaveh? There's simply no way for Alhaitham to lose.

It's just... so funny.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[animamii]

Kiss Me Thru The Phone | Toji Fushiguro

Toji's been locked up for too long and misses his pretty girl deeply.

Was listening to Kiss Me Thru The Phone by Soulja Boy, which was always my go to song for my irl jailbird cougarrrr. But Toji is better so it's his song now c;

warnings; smut, duh. phone sex.

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This is a collect call from Tokyo Correctional Facility from

"Toji Fushiguro," his voice raspy and nonchalant as always, a stark contrast to the excitement bubbling inside you.

If you accept the charges, please press 1.

Like second nature you instantly press one. 'This phone call will be recorded and subject to monitoring...' the autonomous voice instructs. The line clicks, a soft trill signaling the connection, and then a faint beeping tone echoes through your receiver. Your heart pounds in anticipation, your grip on the phone tightening as the line goes silent for just a beat too long. A beeping tone goes off, and your heart beats heavily.

"Hey princess," Toji's voice, low and gravelly, rolls through the phone. A smile instantaneously forms on your face, it's been a while since you had spoken to Toji on the phone. His ass was always getting thrown into ad seg for one reason or another.

"Hi baby," your voice is soft and sweet, and Toji feels his heart swelling as he finally hears your voice in what feels like forever. No matter how hardened life makes him, hearing your voice always makes him melt.

“Damn, it’s good to hear you,” he mutters, his tone a little softer now. "They threw my ass in the hole cause some fuckface wanted to try and take the box of Honeybuns from the package you sent me last week."

"Of course they did," you reply with a light laugh, shaking your head. "You can't go a month without stirring up trouble, can you?"

"It's not my fault," Toji defends, the familiar cockiness in his voice making your stomach flutter. "You send me the good shit, princess. You think I'm gonna let some punk get his hands on my Honeybuns?"

You bite your lip to suppress a giggle, imagining him in his element, standing tall and intimidating, defending your care package like his life depended on it. "Well, at least now I know how much you appreciate my efforts."

"Appreciate?" Toji scoffs playfully. "Baby, I worship the ground you walk on for those packages. You should see these guys. They're practically drooling over the stuff you send me. It’s like I’m a king in here."

"Aweee babyyyy," you coo, biting your lip as your cheeks heat up. Toji always knew just what to say to make you feel giddy like a young girl in love for the first time. "Just for that I'll send you something extra special next week."

Toji lets out a low chuckle, the sound deep and raspy, sending a warm shiver down your spine. "You’re too good to me, princess. You’ve got me spoiled," he says, and though his tone is teasing, there’s a genuine softness beneath his words.

"Someone’s gotta take care of you," you reply, your voice playful but full of affection. "You’re lucky I love you enough to deal with all this drama."

"Lucky doesn’t even cover it," Toji mutters, his voice dropping an octave. "I don’t deserve you, but I’m not letting you go. Ever."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the weight of his sincerity making your chest tighten. "You don’t have to," you whisper. "I’m not going anywhere, Toji."

"Good," he says firmly, the possessiveness in his tone sending a rush of heat through you. "Cause when I get out of here, you’re mine. Completely. No one else gets a second of your time."

"You already have me," you say softly, the vulnerability in your voice making him pause.

"I know," he murmurs after a moment, his tone unusually tender. "And that’s the only thing keeping me sane in this place. Knowing I’ve got you waiting for me on the other side."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let the sadness take over. "I’ll always be here, baby. No matter how long it takes."

"Enough about me though," he tries to change the subject, hearing the vulnerability in your voice. He hates knowing you're missing him like that, especially when he can't do anything about it. "How’s my pretty girl?” he asks, his voice dropping to that lower, huskier tone that always makes your stomach flutter.

“I’m okay,” you reply, leaning back against the couch as you let yourself sink into his voice. “But I’d be better if you were here.”

A low chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Trust me, princess, I’d do anything to be there with you right now.” Toji looks around his surroundings, the dreary cement walls and identical cell doors that go on and on. He leans against the divider that separates all the phones, metal phone wire feeling cool against his arm. It's late at night, most of the prisoners already in their cells asleep. Toji was lucky enough to know someone on the inside, getting the privilege to have late night calls with you, getting as much privacy as he could get. A single guard supervises him haphazardly.

The thought of him—of his rough hands on your skin, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered all the things he wanted to do to you—makes heat pool low in your belly. The distance between you feels unbearable, but his voice keeps you grounded, tethered to the connection you share.

“What are you wearing?” he asks suddenly, his tone playful but suggestive.

“Toji,” you laugh, your cheeks flushing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” he replies, his voice darkening with desire. “I need a little something to keep me going while I’m stuck in here.”

You glance down at your oversized t-shirt, wearing nothing but that and some panties. biting your lip as a grin creeps onto your face. “Nothing special,” you tease. “Just your t-shirt, the one I stole from you.”

"Just my shirt? Nothing else?" He clears his throat with a grunt, looking around to make sure nobody else could hear. Although let's face it, he wouldn't care regardless.

"Mmm that and some panties of course. Like I always wear to bed," you respond, playing with the hem of your shirt mindlessly. The shirt itself wafted of Toji's musky scent, piney with a dash of smoke and a hint of jasmine.

"What panties?" Toji tries to imagine you, all pretty and barefaced, ready for bed in one of his shirts that swallow your frame. No bra, the outline of your nipples showing through the soft fabric. The bottom of your ass poking out from under his shirt.

"The frilly lacy baby pink pair you got me from Victoria's Secret," pulling up your shirt just enough to see the panties you wear, Toji being oh so familiar with the pair. "You know, the ones I wore when we went to that fancy Brazilian steak house, and you made me keep them on as you fucked me in the bathroom?"

He groans softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Damn, you know what that does to me, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice light but filled with heat. Toji started this little game, but you could play it better.

"Fuck I miss you princess," his voice is gravelly, needy as he bites his lip.

"I miss you too baby," your lip curls into a sweet smile, words sounding like sugar.

"No, like I really miss you," Toji looks down at the scratchy sweatpants he's forced to wear, seeing the bulge he now adorns getting bigger and bigger as he paints an image of your pretty self.

"Oh?"

"Wanna help me out ma?" The raspiness of his sultry voice has you weak in the knees and you could almost perfectly picture the wolfish grin he was wearing.

"Toji I don't know..." Feeling bashful, your teeth tug at your lip as you contemplate. Sure you've mailed him pretty pictures with way to much cleavage, some in revealing outfits and "bathing suits", but never have you ever had phone sex with him while he's been locked up.

"C'mon mama, I really need you right now. Miss you so much. Miss your gorgeous face. Miss your cute smile. That pretty pussy of yours." At this point he was rock hard, erection now prominent even in those baggy sweatpants.

"Aren't you in public right now, love?" Raising an eyebrow, you try to imagine Toji as he's in a corner of the public area, standing next to one of the phones that's stuck to the wall.

"Relax princess, it's already past curfew. I got special phone privileges courtesy of Shiu. Pays to know people inside," he clicks his tongue proudly, his smirk almost audible.

"Mmm okay, if you say so baby," sinking down more into the couch, obliging with a tint of pink on your cheeks.

"That's my girl." There's a slight pause, then a rustling sound as Toji leans closer to the phone. "Now, put the phone on speaker so I can hear every little thing, okay princess?"

"Okay, Toji." Turning on speakerphone, you set the phone on the arm of the couch right next to where your head rests. So, what do you want me to do first, baby?" you ask, your voice tinged with playfulness and a hint of arousal.

Toji's chuckle is low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, for starters... tell me exactly what you're wearing."

You bite your lip, glancing down at yourself before responding, "Like I said earlier, just your old shirt and that pair of baby pink lace panties. Nothing else."

His mind was so foggy with lust and need that he had forgot he asked you that, causing that hard predicament that sits in his pants. "Oh, right. That pretty pink pair that I like to slide to the side and fuck you in."

Your breathing hitches, the heat pooling in your core at his words. Toji’s voice, low and laden with want, is enough to make your body respond instantly. You shift slightly, your thighs squeezing together as the familiar ache begins to build.

“You remember everything, don’t you?” you tease, though your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“How could I forget?” he rasps, his tone sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “You looked so fucking good in them. Still do, I bet. Are they wet yet, princess?” Toji reels his memories, thinking of your legs spread open, showing that cute little damp patch of arousal that would soak through the frilly material.

Your cheeks flush crimson, his bluntness never failing to catch you off guard. “Maybe,” you admit shyly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs approvingly. “Touch yourself for me, baby. I wanna hear those sweet little sounds you make when you think of me.” A hand goes into his sweats, palming himself through his boxers. It didn't bother him in the slightest that anyone could see. His perfect girl was on the line, moaning and mewling just for him and he wanted—no needed—to get off to you.

“Toji,” you breathe out, the warmth spreading through your chest and settling low in your belly. You hesitate for just a moment before letting your hand slip beneath the hem of your shirt, your fingertips brushing against the lace of your panties. “I miss you,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

“Fuck, I miss you too,” he groans, the sound of his restraint evident in his tone. “Keep going, princess. Tell me what you’re doing.”

Your hand slips beneath the lace, your fingers dipping into the slick heat between your thighs. “I’m... I’m touching myself,” you confess, your voice trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

“Good girl,” Toji growls, his words like a low purr that rumbles through the receiver. “You know how much I love hearing you, baby. Don’t hold back. Let me hear those pretty little moans.”

Your free hand clutches at the couch cushion as your fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. The sound of Toji’s breathing, heavy and uneven, fills your ear and fuels the fire building inside you. Closing your eyes, you imagine it's him hovering over you, fingers teasing your clit just how he always does.

“Toji,” you whimper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“That’s it, princess,” he encourages, his voice thick with need. “Keep saying my name. Let me know how good it feels.”

You close your eyes, letting his voice guide you as your movements grow more insistent. “I wish you were here; my fingers can't do what yours do,” you whisper, your words shaky as the pleasure builds. “I need you so bad, Toji.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me,” he groans, the sound of rustling fabric on his end letting you know he’s just as affected as you are. “I’d do anything to have you under me right now. To feel how tight you’d squeeze me when I’m deep inside you.” His hand finally snakes its way inside his boxers, his calloused finger soothing his aching red tip. Palm wrapped around the top, squeezing it in imitation of your tight walls.

"That's all I can think about, Toji," soft, needy whimpers leave your throat, "Having my legs on your shoulders as you break me off. Hitting that one spot deep inside me that always gets me creaming on your cock." Flashbacks of Toji's large hands holding you down, fucking into you as he forces you to watch, that frothy white ring around the base of his dick forming as juice splatter from his impact.

"Yeah, princess?" Toji groans, his voice dipping even lower, roughened by his own need. "You always know how to rile me up, don’t you? Keep talking, tell me exactly how you'd want me to fuck you."

You bite your lip, the weight of his words sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. "I’d want it slow at first," your fingers circle your clit agonizingly slow. Almost torturous like Toji does. "You’d tease me," you murmur, your voice catching as your fingers dip lower. "Make me beg for it, wouldn’t you? Make me tell you how much I need it, need you."

"Fuck," Toji growls, his breathing heavy in your ear. His hand strokes himself in sync with your words, his rough palm sliding over his length as he imagines you beneath him, squirming, needy, desperate. "I’d make you wait, baby. You know I love hearing you beg for me, hearing that pretty little voice say my name."

A shaky whimper escapes your lips, the sound almost too loud in the stillness of your living room. "I’d be so wet for you," you whisper, voice trembling as your fingers circle faster, dipping between your folds to gather more of your slickness. "You wouldn’t even have to ask, Toji. I’d be ready for you the second you touched me."

"Shit," he groans, gripping himself tighter as he pictures it. "You’d be dripping down your thighs, wouldn’t you? Making a fucking mess of yourself while you wait for me to fill you up."

"Yes," you gasp, your back arching against the couch as your body reacts to his words. Your free hand clutches at the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in his scent, his voice, the memory of his touch. "I need you so bad, Toji. I need to feel you stretching me out, filling me up until I can't take it anymore."

"Dip those pretty little fingers of yours inside your pussy, princess. Imagine it's me curling them and hitting that soft spot in ya," he grunts, trying to imagine the feeling of your tiny hole enveloping his large fingers.

You let out a soft moan, obeying his request, slipping two fingers into your warmth. The wet sound fills the quiet of the room, mixing with his heavy breathing on the line.

“I... I’m doing it, Toji,” you manage between hitched breaths. “It’s not the same... I can’t stretch myself like you do.”

“Fucking hell,” he growls, his hand pumping faster now, imagining the way your body clings to him when he’s buried inside you. “Tell me how it feels, princess. I need to hear everything.”

Your cheeks flush, the embarrassment drowned out by the heat curling in your belly. “It feels... good, but not enough. I can’t reach as deep as you, baby. I need you here. I need your fingers, your cock... all of you.”

“Shit, keep talking like that, and I’m gonna cum before you do,” he groans, his voice thick with frustration and longing. His strokes become erratic, the image of you—the sounds you're making—driving him closer to the edge. “I’d have you spread out under me right now, pretty legs shaking while I fuck you open. You’d take me so well, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh huh~,” you whimper, arching into your touch, fingers moving faster as you imagine him over you, his broad shoulders, the weight of his body pressing you down. “I’d take you so good... like I always do. I’d make such a mess for you.”

“You’d be dripping all over my cock, wouldn’t you? So tight, so perfect for me,” he rasps, his voice hitching slightly as his own hand works faster. You can hear the faint rustle of fabric, the wet sound of his strokes, and it sends a thrill through you, knowing he’s as close to the edge as you are.

“Toji, I’m so close,” you whine, your voice trembling with the mounting pleasure.

“Good girl,” he groans, his tone commanding but filled with adoration. “Let it go, princess. Cum for me. I wanna hear those pretty sounds when you fall apart for me.”

His words push you over the edge, a broken cry escaping your lips as your body tenses and then releases, waves of pleasure crashing through you. Toji’s name spills from your mouth in a litany, each moan sweeter than the last.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice a low growl as he follows you over the edge, his own release ripping through him. You can hear his breaths, heavy and uneven, as he murmurs your name like a prayer.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the line and your shared breaths as you come down from the high.

“I needed that,” Toji finally mutters, his voice lighter now, the teasing edge creeping back in. "Been so pent up, jerking off to those pretty pictures you mail me like I'm a horny teenager."

You laugh softly, trying to imagine a sexually frustrated Toji hunched over your selfies trying to get himself off. “You’re insatiable, Toji.”

“For you? Always,” he replies, the warmth in his voice making your chest tighten with affection. "I miss being able to bend you over and fuck you wherever and whenever I want."

"Mmmm, I miss that too, baby," you hum, walking to the sink to wash your arousal-stained fingers. "Miss having my man with me all the time. Gets so lonely without my lover."

"I fucking love you, you know that?" Toji murmurs after a beat, his voice softer now, filled with an almost boyish sincerity.

A smile tugs at your lips, your heart swelling at his words. "I love you too, Toji," you reply, your voice tender.

The automated voice interrupts the moment, announcing that the call will end in one minute. Your chest tightens at the reminder, and you clutch the phone, wishing you could hold onto him just a little longer.

“You better be ready for me when I get out,” he says, his tone turning serious, almost possessive. “I’m not wasting a single second. First thing I’m doing is coming straight to you, and you’re not leaving my bed for days.”

"I'll be counting down the days, baby," a honeyed mewl leaves your lips, feeling light and airy still from your orgasm. "Until then... Behave yourself Toji Fushiguro."

He chuckles, the sound low and rich, and you can practically hear the grin in his voice. "No promises, princess," he teases. "But I’ll try. For you. Now before it hangs up, kiss me through the phone, baby."

Your heart squeezes at his request, the playful yet sincere edge in his voice making your chest ache with longing. Pressing the phone closer to your lips, you whisper, "Mwah," letting it carry all the tenderness you can muster.

A low hum of approval comes through the line. "Mmm, that’s what I like to hear," he drawls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I’ll be dreaming about that one, princess."

The automated voice chimes in again, colder this time, signaling the end of the call in mere seconds. "I love you," you blurt out, the words rushing out like a lifeline.

"I love you more," he says firmly, the weight of his promise grounding you. "Be good for me, princess. I’ll be home before you know it."

The line clicks dead before you can respond, the abrupt silence leaving an ache in its wake. You lower the phone slowly, staring at the screen as if willing it to light up again with his name. His words replay in your head. You could hold it down for him, he'll be home before you know it.

[muqingslover]

[ I've seen how Caleb is often described to be a sex god without any experience at every first time (and I eat it up) but I also think we should discuss the other side of it. Kinda of an addition to my previous post ]

Let's discuss virgin Caleb that since he hit puberty has been struggling with his own desires and when he finally received the green light from you it's like a dam was unleashed.

This man is BEYOND sensitive. And so damn needy too, to the point that greedy would be a much more suitable word for him.

He started having wet dreams about you after the first kiss and the walk of shame to the bathroom every morning to wash his boxers is very real.

He's got a leaking and painful boner every time you kiss him for a little too long and he can't get enough of the taste of your tongue on his.

Having you on his lap is both bliss and torture. He'd try to hide the fact he's hard the first few times, not wanting to scare or pressure you, but each time your hips pressed down against his boner he'd be rolling his eyes back into his head and forcing down a groan.

I'm a dry-humping truther and I firmly believe the first time he came with you was by rubbing himself against your leg like the dog he is while you two were making out.

Caleb is mortified about his first experience with a blow job and he wishes you'd forget such an embarrassing moment of him.

But in all honesty, it wasn't his fault. You offered out of nowhere, which left him no time to mentally prepare, and just by having you kneeling down in front of him with your hand wrapped around his cock had him gripping the edge of the desk behind him, to the point the wood creaked at the sheer pressure.

And when you licked along the precum that was dripping down his length and pushed your tongue against his swollen tip he came and he came hard. His cum coating your face, getting onto some parts of your hair and in your mouth.

It goes without saying that he spent the rest of the day apologizing, but the sight of you swallowing his cum that had gotten onto your lips made him dizzy and hard again.

I'm sure he'll be fantastic in bed eventually, but your first time is a mess. Literally. Caleb is so eager to explore the body he's desired for so long and to please you as much as you do to him.

Everywhere he can reach is littered with dark and very obvious hickeys.

He'd have your hands pinned next or above your head so you couldn't touch him otherwise he knows he won't last at all.

Though, all his efforts bear no fruit because the second this man bottoms out inside of your warm and tight insides he is cumming again.

His body would tremble as he held his entire weight on his forearms to not crush you and he bit down on his lips.

After switching condoms, you'd have to get on top while his shaky legs recover from his orgasm and oh gods he's really trying his fucking best right now.

He's panting against your neck when you roll your hips and cause a loud moan to escape his lips, followed by his strong arms wrapping around your middle like a bear hug as if to keep himself grounded. It's rather cute, really.

He'd come with you this time, if not a little before from you clenching around his cock and the sweet whimpers because he's oh so very sensitive.

His hands would feel up your thighs then shamelessly grab your ass while he looked up at you, loving the view of you on top of him and he's got the cockiest grin you've ever seen on his face.

Now we're talking about someone with YEARS of suppressed sexual desires so you better brace yourself because he's far from done.

Caleb would use the entire night to learn everything he possibly can about your body, besides what he already knew. Each sweet spot that make you cry so good for him and just how deep he can hit inside of you to have you gasping for more.

He's sloppy, he's desperate, he's pathetic and it's messy. He'd ask between shaky breaths and his tone is almost whiny "Does that good? I need you to talk to me sweetheart, c'mon."

"Tell me what you want and I'll do it. Teach me how to make you feel good."

"Can I go deeper? Fuck- Please? Please? you feel so good-"

"I can't stop— Just one more, I'll make it good for you too, please, gods please, I need more of you or I'll go insane."

Caleb is the type of pathetic loser that would get a nosebleed while he pounded into you for the nth time.

He'd kiss you when you showed concern, spit trickling down your chin as the taste of iron would spread on your tongue before he pulled away to admire the sight of you completely disheveled for him. Because of him.

He licks the few drops on your chest, the crimson smearing with the sweat glistening on your skin and leaving a trail that only added to the perverted satisfaction that you're his.

Almost every position is crossed off the list in a single night and he's willing to do anything you ask of him. You want to ride him again? He's sat. You want him to hit it from the back? He's got you on your hands and knees already. You want him to eat you out? Please, by all means take a seat on his face. You have complete control over everything that happens most of the time.

It's morning by the time you two pass out, or run out of condoms in the box honestly, but you can fully expect him to try something when he gets into the shower with you the next day. Hey, he's just helping you clean up like a good boyfriend should ;) .

[theeternalwomb]

your persons intimate fantasies about you (18+)

Message: you guys over here on tumblr have the nsfw covers and the covers for TikTok and Instagram are sweeter because unfortunately TikTok is sensitive and so is Instagram 💀 anyways, we’re in Scorpio season and I felt like it was time for me to do another 18+ reading, I hardly ever do these, they all make nervous 🙄✋🏾but for you, I will do it because who doesn’t want the tea on what their persons fantasies are about them let’s literally be for real. Stop looking at me I’m embarrassed 😞. Let’s just hurry up and do it.

***

pile one: The first card out was the sun card upright pile one, I've got some channeled messages as well that I've pulled out this person just wants to make you happy, they just want to please you. You're the top priority in their fantasies about you, I get the imagery of someone working extra hard, doing everything in their power to make sure you cum first if not multiple times, it's almost like they wouldn't even care if they finished themselves. They think you'd look pretty during sex or that your faces and moans would further push them to fuck you with their best effort. This person also may feel like you're a tough one or have a strong energy outside of the bedroom in your day-to-day life this person wants you to melt in their hands and submit to them, I'm also hearing they want you to be completely exhausted afterward, out of breath, or they want to be put you straight to sleep. Some of these people are masculine energies and have really heavy dominant traits or tendencies, care for you, adore you, may want to protect you, or be protective of you.

There's a lot of imagery of someone lying behind you or draping a heavy arm over you when you guys are finished or watching you sleep to admire their accomplishment or to make sure you're okay. I also pulled "acts of service (pleasure, aftercare, etc.) from my channeled messages so that kind of confirms the energy I'm getting from this person. They may be the type to run you a warm bath afterward, help you clean up, or make sure everything is to your liking afterward. This person is going to prioritize your needs every time, anything you do for them in the bedroom or sexually I heard "would be nice." but it's never their top priority. You may be really pretty or be someone who is really put together or would go into intimacy, makeup, and hair done, looking nice, I kind of almost get like an old school wifey vibe, the way beauty ritual for your husband/partner was a thing, like pampering yourself, putting on a little makeup, doing your hair, or putting on something your partner would like before they come home to you. This person imagines you looking good before sex with them and may even feel like you almost look your best but they fantasize about ruining all that, mascara streaming down your face, hair looking insane, lipstick swiped off, etc.

This person loves your face or your features either way though so you'll always be pretty to them or this person is really in awe of your physical appearance. Pulled "Cancerian features (soft bodies, curves, breast, soft features, etc.)" This person thinks your natural features are very sweet but also thinks that you're very sexy, you may have full hips, or a soft body shape, a nice waist or midriff, you may have big boobs or a soft or full butt too and this person is really obsessed with that, imagines themselves in between your thighs if you're a woman, imagines themselves caressing your skin or grabbing handfuls of your ass. I'm getting like doughy imagery, like a Greek goddess or even people who have similar body types to doja cat or someone with a south African body type or maybe even someone Somali. This person thinks your figure is the embodiment of a whole lot of woman. getting "this is a man's world, but not without a woman." This person is obsessed with you pile one, you're extremely desirable to them. I get a lot of pussy worship from this pile too, if you're a woman this person fantasizes about eating you out or lapping away at you or sticking their fingers in it.

Pulled "wet pussy." too, this person thinks you're hiding a slip in slide in between your legs and fantasizes about you being wet for them or fantasizes about what it would feel like to stick their hand in your panties or discover that you are aroused. which one of you are water signs, it's sticky in here. 😟. I haven't even gotten to the second row of cards in my spread, this person just has a lot on their mind, they dreams about you often, has wet dreams about you or fantasize about being intimate with you like clockwork, they should be getting paid for it due to all the time they devote to thinking of you. This person dreams of you desiring them though or being impressed with them, you being needy or them being the object of all your desires or someone you ache for or spend a lot of time fantasizing about. If this person is quiet about their desires or nonchalant about things like this, I hope you know they're pretending. This person fantasizes about you coming undone all over them, tearing up during orgasms or releasing high-pitched moans or making all types of outlandish vocalizations while they f*ck you. They want you all to themselves and if they're spiritual or are into spiritual thinking they fantasize about a soul-deep connection with you that makes your desire for them magnified and out of control.

I was just listening to "any time, any place" by Janet Jackson yesterday, and I had "my heart belongs to you" by Jodeci stuck in my head yesterday, I absolutely get 90s baby-making music vibes from this person. This person wants to worship you. This person wants to drag you around on the bed, pick you up and toss you around, or loves to be hands-on, this person likes to talk you through it, will tell you good job for squirting and creaming. LMAO nooo! the intro lyrics to "my heart belongs to you" being exactly how this person feels, go look at the lyrics immediately. This person also feels like you're a little shy about sex or are usually very quiet about your desires and like to keep them to yourself and this person thinks this is cute or this turns them on. I also pulled the king of cups but it landed sideways, this person is extremely sweet on you but the sideways position of the card leads me to believe this person is sweet on you and wants to cater to you romantically and be obsessed and cuddly with you but in bed sort of has a switch that they flip. This your man???? I don't know friend I had to stand up out of my seat and clap..

channeled messages I pulled:

"Relieving period cramps or menstrual pain through penetration"

"Favorite place? ; inside you."

"Cancerian features (soft bodies, curves, breast, soft features,,"

"wet p*ssy."

"exactly someone's type."

"finger f*cking (knuckles deep, rings on fingers,,)" yall need to be stopped.

"favorite positions/taking notes"

"eyes tearing up"/"coming undone."

special spots (g-spot,a-spot, erogenous zones on your body) this person knows what you like or will study you and wants to hit all the right spots repeatedly

"desire to please"

"wet dreams"

"sex after marriage or delayed gratification"

"acts of service (pleasure, after care, etc.")

"worship of eachothers divinity / divine feminine worship/ divine masculine worship"

"having sex in public , "any time any place"" (this person likes the idea of car sex with you, you being needy, or not being able to wait until you get home to sleep with them)

"obsessed with your physique"

"first to break celibacy or take virginity"

channeled music:

"any time, any place" -Janet Jackson (miss freak-a-leak supreme)

"Feenin'" -Jodeci

"My heart belongs to you" -Jodeci

"Just the two of us" - Bill Withers

"It's a man's world" - James Brown

"At Last" -Etta James

extras:

this person has sloppy or big handwriting

this person is a quick thinker, is witty, or pays close attention

this person has calloused hands or does a lot of work with their hands

"I will survive" - Gloria Gaynor (this song came on auto-play and was really distracting to me, I almost got up and did a back flip and put on an entire performance, you may remind this person of this song or something like it, I'm channeling a lot of 70s energy or 70s feminine energy, this person may think of you that way or you give them 70s sex symbol energy, think Pam Grier, big breasted and natural, supple skin, big hair, glamour, etc. )

beauty competitions or pageants or feminine displays of beauty like burlesque is the energy you give this person

Etta James or Beyonce in Cadillac Records (you really remind this person of vintage women in history or if you're a man vintage male figures in history, there's something this person picks up when they think of you that's very vintage, classic, romanticized or antique and valuable)

you remind this person of classic recipes or like angel food cake, classic vanilla recipes, homemade things or nostalgia specific to fragrance, touch, and auditory stimuli like music or melodies.

this person likes to eat, they're an eater and you might be as well, is a fan of fine dining but also is a fan of oral sex and likes it done to them as well, is a big fan of how you suck dick if you do oral is big in this connection. if you've never gotten good oral, this persons about to change your life or thinks of doing so, mouth wide open, chin dripping type of people.

blankets or bed being a mess, or like pillow feathers being all over the place

*****

pile two: there's a lot going on in this pile two but I feel like this reading is about to change your life or give you some huge take away, if this person is someone you're romantically invested with this is more than just a telltale on what they want to do to you. I immediately pulled the three of cups card and I was like ??? but there's a message here about this person's sexuality and sexual experiences being connected to their love lives or romance, this person has very heavy Scorpio energy, they're obsessive and possessive and heavily devoted in love but they want to make people fight for their love or fight for their commitment and devotion. This person may have third parties or like to keep their options open or may like a lot of attention and get a lot of attention but they fantasize about everything about you captivating them and making them change their ways, put their walls down, and commit/marry you.

They fantasize about you going out of their way to earn their love and devotion and then they fantasize about how they're gonna fuck and make love to you after you earn it as a reward. I pulled "best you've ever had" from the channeled messages too. This person is taken up by you and sort of admires your beauty and admires you like you're this persons "little love" I heard but they're about to turn you every which way but loose if you devote yourselves to them and prove that you truly love and care for them. This person is afraid of abandonment or has trouble with commitment but they don't really on the inside on an internal scale. this person has layers or is a complex individual but you're the one who understands them or you understand the interworking's of their mind.

This person fantasizes about exploring sex and intimacy with you or exploring each other's bodies. This person may need trust and emotional intimacy and connection to get it up for people or to even consider having sex. This person is used to being desired or people lusting over them but that is a surface level idea and they understand it's temporary unless it's built on the right foundation. They may be a virgin or be saving themselves but most people would assume the opposite. This person fantasizes of driving you wild or making you needy and crave sex with them or crave their touch, I'm channeling the energy of that scene in 40 days and 40 nights when he finally gets the girl and they don't have penetrative sex but he brings her to an orgasm with just a flower alone, like this person wants you to want them that bad. Tugging on their belt loops when you hug them, wanting to smell them, not being able to get enough of their embrace, like that!! I'm also channeling the song "Summertime" by Ella Fitzgerald and how gorgeous her voice is in that song and how in flow she is with the male harmonizer on the record. They're trying to fuse souls with you, they want to make music with you, the music being you moaning loudly.

This person imagines that you have really high-pitched moans or orgasms or they try to imagine what you'd sound like during sex by the tone or frequency of your voice, they love your voice. Thinking of you moaning drives them insane as well, one of their fantasies is to make you yell or have you be really loud to the point where other people can hear you but they don't care or aren't ashamed. If you're the type of person to cover your mouth or try to be quiet they're going to hold your hands back when they know you're close. This person is like a hopeless romantic at heart like they're badly hoping you'll love them through their setbacks or their issues to the point in which they grow, heal, and leave all that behind. You may be someone whose a little prone to loving unconditionally or loving people through rough times in their lives and you'll get your happily ever after through that energy of being exactly who you are.

this person knows how sweet you are or picks up on it when you have a hard time when they're away even if you try to put up facades or pretend, and they really like that you want them, that you crave their attention and quality time. If you're crazy and needy they love that about you. This person needs to be loved unconditionally within this lifetime. You're their person. This person is really into the idea of you guys both equally giving and receiving romantically but also sexually. This person fantasizes that you'd do anything to please them and they you. This person fantasizes about fucking you dizzy and making you forget about anyone else you've ever liked or cared for or ever wanted to be with. They see the whole nine yards with you too, the house, the marriage, the kids, the wealth!! PUT IT ON EM' MAKE EM' WANNA MARRY ME!!!

This person also fantasizes about little bouts of intimacy between the two of you especially if you guys are waiting for sex till after you're married or till after you're ready whenever that may be. they fantasize about sloppy kisses with you, getting hot and heavy and almost getting carried away and they fantasize about fingering you and the sounds you'll make when they do, they also know and think about how wet you get for them or how tight you are just over two fingers. They're obsessed with your face and your eyes too, you may have big eyes or eyes that catch a sparkle or a lot of light, and they're obsessed with your eyes and lashes, they also fantasize about messing up your lipstick or your lip combo or being covered in kiss marks by you or covered in your lipstick. lol or like kind of comedic vibe like them coming out a closet with you in public covered in kiss marks and your lipstick, looking crazy. A connection between the two of you will be very passionate and hot and heavy to the point where your friends will be able to feel the desire radiating off the two of you and after you have sex for the first time it'll be even wilder. You may even have an anonymous or faceless blog of your own when you're a little older or some years into your relationship or start writing a book to share about your sex experiences or romance.

channeled messages I pulled:

"worship of each other's divinity, divine feminine worship/divine masculine worship"

"exactly someone's type."

"Cancerian features (soft bodies, curves, breasts, and soft features)" Your person really loves your boobs and your skin, they feel like your boobs fit perfectly in their hands or they love your nipples.

favorite positions/taking notes. Your person is gonna study the way your body reacts to things, the sounds you make, if your breath quickens, what makes you cum the fastest, etc. They're gonna make it their lives work to know exactly what you need

"desire to please"

"acts of service (pleasure, aftercare, etc.) this person is going to be extremely obsessed with you, I just heard "whatever you'd like my love."

"relieving period cramps through penetration" I'm getting the energy that this persons going to do whatever they can to make you feel happy and comfortable like I feel like in early stages of your relationship this person would want to cater to you when you're on your menstrual cycle if you're a woman, buying you gifts, buying flowers, buying you food or sending food to your house, getting you a heating pad or making sure your water cup is full and you have the medication you need or the sanitary products you need after ya'll are done waiting they'll def be doubling all that plus sex for added relief. I'm hearing this person doesn't care if you bleed all over their sheets either.

"having sex in public. "any time, any place."

"finger fucking (knuckles deep, rings on fingers, etc.)" I feel like this person is going to live to have their fingers in your twat in early years of your connection, like they genuinely enjoy hearing your reaction to their fingers, watching your face and feeling you cum all over their fingers. But they'll be really quiet and respectful about the things you do like not telling their friends or dodging questions intending to pry on your intimate lives but will encourage you or really like it when you tell your friends about what you guys do or brag about your intimate lives to your friends.

"best you've ever had." ("and the only.") I heard them add. EEOOWWW! 😛😋 that's like their favorite thing ever, they love that.

"spending money/spoiling" prepare for Cartier and Hermes!!

"wet dreams" bros waking up in a puddle-

"medicine for the soul." aww, this person feels like you make them all better like spending time with you replenishes them of energy and optimism

"wet pussy." hasn't even had it, they clearly just knows intuitively.

channeled music:

"Smooth operator" - Sade

Tennessee whiskey - Chris Stapleton (the lyrics on this one are incredibly resonate, listen or look this one up, especially the lyric: "but when you pulled out your heart I didn't waste it.")

"back to black" - amy winehouse

"you know I'm no good" - amy winehouse

"there is something on your mind" - Big Jay Mcneely

"I only have eyes for you" - The flamingos

"I'd rather go blind" - Etta James

"A Sunday kind of love" - Etta James

extras:

nonchalant-like behavior or pretending to be nonchalant in the beginning

sweetheart

true colors

true love/heart/personality

devotion

scorpio!!!! / being testy in love

amy winehouse in general and her energy or music

"earn it." "how bad do you want me."

Mr. Grey Type or Fifty Shades of Grey being really similar to the connection

Jazz

blues music

red lipstick/lip combos

blankets being a mess, pillow feathers being all over the room

the wedding sex scene in twilight, longing for it, waiting for it, not wanting to hurt you during sex, the bed breaking, getting pregnant right away or not having to try very hard to get pregnant

"brag about it. / "telling the groupchat"

legs being sore, trying to get out of bed and immediately falling/not being able to walk straight

hair being tangled the morning after

turning you every which way but loose

"someone tell that man to get off of her."

big wedding

well endowed/big d*ck/big surprise

pent up frustration, "waited for you,"

bedroom being a mess the morning after (clothes on the floor, bottles, decorations all over if there was any, blankets on the floor, etc.)

jealous women or men, people wondering what about you has your person wrapped around your finger

"wifey. wifey. wifey." (future song trend on tiktok)

mad you left them in bed by themselves, will come to find you, carry you back

handsy/touchy

likes your perfumes or colognes or your taste in fragrances

likes your hair/likes it long, will help you do or style your hair or will help you with your hair

likes your eyes and lashes

"pretty face man"

Etta James and Leonard chess and their relationship portrayed in Cadillac records (him being taken up with her despite third party, the scene where he caresses her face AND YOU CAN LITERALLY HEAR HOW SOFT IT IS UGH!!, buying her stuff/going out of his way to do stuff for her, caring for her or sympathizing with her past/inner child trauma when she's in vulnerable states)

pile three: I'm starting off the reading upright with the "Death" card. I feel like this person is someone from your past or someone that you've departed from or since left or aren't in communication with anymore. This person fantasizes about immense change or some sort of full-force transformation that results in them being married to you and having the full ten of cups energy, everything they've ever wanted, the kids, the dog, the house, the fish, the luxury mommy SUV. everything!!! this person fantasizes about being everything you want and giving everything you want, both in general and sexually. If this isn't a current connection I kind of get the vibe that there was a huge ending or tower moment that resulted in this relationship or connection closing out altogether but this person has not yet let you go whether they've seemingly moved on or whatever!!! You're on their mind a lot as well and they sort of feel like you're above them or like they don't deserve you (and they're probably right) but they're obsessed with you.

The reading started with Creep by Radiohead on shuffle too! This person may have communicated with you a lot through music when ya'll were invested and connected or there were several songs that you resonated with or that they resonated with regarding their connection. This person may fantasize about making love to you to one of you guy's old playlists made about your relationship. Tennessee Whiskey could've been significant to you in this connection as well. ALL THE LYRICS!! This person may like to drink too or like whiskey themselves, be a smoker or be a person with bad habits and bad vices. I think this person fantasizes about your heart still being in this connection and your body too. Like they wonder and fantasize about you up late at night losing it over them both emotionally and sexually. they fantasize about you not being able to get off with anyone else or you thinking about their sex when you're with other people. They fantasize about you not wanting anyone but them or having a hard time dealing with the fact that they're away and can't have them. This person feels exactly like this over you and has a hard time getting aroused or getting it up for other people unless they think about you.

This person misses the way it feels the way it feels to fuck you, if they're a man they may like being deep inside you and watching you struggle to take it all or they like the sound you make when they put it in. Or they like when you rub on them or tug on them when you guys fuck. This person's hands may have been extremely attractive to you or something about hands and fingers are significant. I like hear them saying they didn't touch you enough or savor the feeling of your skin enough or your body or they didn't finger you enough. I don't know what's up with the collective and fingering today.. anyways, whoever you're with or whatever you're doing this person feels like they have a lot of competition or a lot of options or they've been watching you and you look really good and they're literally craving your touch and sex with you. This person really likes what your vagina smells like their idea of a good day is putting their face in between your legs and leaving it there. disregard that if you don't own a vagina but I don't know either way your smell both natural and fragrance choices turn this person on or they miss it.

this person is really is really turned on by your confidence and your magnetism they fantasize about being your man or your woman or your lifelong partner and people noticing how hot you are and being upset that they're the ones who get to fuck you every day or wake up next to you. Like this person wants to be the boyfriend mentioned in "teenage dirtbag" by Wheatus who has the hot girl, drives the hot girl and doesn't give a fuck about the people who eye their person because they're irrelevant to them. This person also feels nobody fucks you like they do or like you and them know how good they make you feel or they fantasize about you having that sort of mindset. they also feel like you were designed for them or made for them like they feel like they like the way you wrap around them or how your inner walls feel or flip that to resonate with you if necessary.

I'm totally getting "complicated" by Avril, this person absolutely feels like you spending time away from them is you acting like you don't care. they're so stuck on you. They miss your mouth too, whatever you do, whatever type of oral you give is like their greatest weakness, they reminisce about the way they feel in your hands or the way your fingers feel. This person is obsessed with everything about you and it drives them completely insane.

channeled messages I pulled:

"releasing period cramps through penetration" if you're a feminine energy this person may have knowledge of you having heavy intolerable cramps and fantasizes about being the one to take care of that for you or make you feel better. it's weird because it's like this person after whatever you guys have been through now wants to be the most considerate, the most sugary sweet, the most giving, etc.

"Cancerian features (soft bodies, curves, breasts, soft features)" I've pulled this for every pile but there's a lot of energy in this one, they envy whoever gets to feel you in their hands, their obsessed with the way your skin feels or the way your body or waist fits in their hands, you may have a smaller frame or be shorter, they miss the way your ass feels, they've always loved that about you, and they miss your breasts, they love to put your nipples in their mouth or want to motorboat you really bad lol!

"mocking/playfullness" this person may fantasize about making fun of your moans or this is something they used to do

"worship of your divinity/ divine feminine worship" you have a lot of divine feminine energy or this person feels like you're an earth angel or you're extremely magical and they want to tell you all about that while they're fucking you, I just picture someone talking to you, affirming you, talking you through it during the act

"sex after marriage or delayed gratification" I get the energy that this person really wants to marry you but that they're also in a constant energy of longing or craving you/feeling like they have to earn sex with you and your time and attention

"eyes tearing up/coming undone" this person fantasizes about giving their all to you and fucking you until you lose it and can't handle it anymore

"medicine for the soul" this person really feels like you make them feel extremely good/make them feel better like if they're feeling upset you always fix it or if they're feeling low they know exactly who to go to. or they feel like you have a healing/magic touch.

"acts of service (pleasure, after care, etc.)” this person really desires to give back to you or give you everything you’ve wanted or did want. I get the vibe that you guys relationship the first time around had a lot of you being the type of person to pour into this person and they feel like they owe you. They want to give back to you sexually and emotionally and prove to you that they care for you I feel like

“Oral sex (sloppy head or pussy eating)” this one is sort of confirmation I feel like this person is obsessed with your mouth or your oral skills and the way you go down on them and they miss it. I feel like they’re tired of going through life with people don’t know how to suck dick or eat pussy it annoys them lol

“Period sex” this person may have done some spiritual research or has educated themselves on soul ties or even just if women enjoy period sex or not and I feel like this person wants to try that with you or see how you’ll behave when your/their senses are heightened like that, they like they idea of fucking you year around, no pauses, not for anything not even blood

“Nobody fucks you like I do.” LMFAO yes!!! This person swears by this..

“Spending money/spoiling” this person fantasizes a lot about taking you places or going places with you, buying you gifts or giving you gifts or feeling like they’re spoiling you or giving you everything you’ve wanted desire and deserve. They may even think about sex after romantic gestures

“Appreciation/affection” this person may have a love language of physical touch, is touchy, loves kissing you, holding you close, grabbing on you or showering you with love and affection. I feel like they’re tired fantasize about that in general but especially about kissing you all over your body, kissing your neck, kissing places they know make you aroused, they fantasize about worshiping your body with affection

“Studies you/pays close attention to body language” this person may have grown up with you or has known you for a long time, I’m getting a message here about it having watched you come into yourself, having learned the things you liked over the years, in general but also in the sexual sense once you guys started being sexually active. I think that’s where this person gets this idea from that they know your body like no other or nobody can fuck you like they do, this person knows what you like, what you want, where to kiss you, where to touch you..

channeled music:

"Girl I'm Gonna Miss You" -Milli Vanilli

"Killing Me Softly" - Fugees

"Can't Take My Eyes off of You" - Lauryn Hill

"Creep" - Radiohead

"Tennesse Whiskey" - Chris Stapleton

"Complicated" - Avril Lavigne

"Ain't No Sunshine" - Bill Withers

"Don't Know Why" - Norah Jones (and this lyric especially: something has to make you mine)

extras:

nostalgia or reminiscing

never-ending longing

"fucking someone else to the thought of you."

stalking your social media/looking at your posts over and over

[lolastrniolo]

TAKE IT / M.S.

summary: your boyfriend matt got a little excited while watching a show with you, so you let him have his way with you.

contains: smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, hair pulling, hickeys, stomach bulge, slapping, spitting in mouth, size kink, dom!matt, established relationship, no use of y/n

wc: 1.9k

a/n: english is not my first language

the sound of the television filled the room as you traced slow circles over matts bare skin, your head rested on his chest. his hands played with your soft hair, his fingers massaging your scalp slowly. suddenly, an erotic scene beamed on the screen, in full explicit detail. matt cleared his throat and shifted his position, slightly pulling at his sweats as he did so. your eyes followed his movements, and eventually landed on the growing tent in his pants. he was praying you wouldn’t notice his arousal, but it was pretty hard to miss, to say the least.

“really, matt?” you picked your head up and looked at him with a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “sorry, this is embarrassing, i feel like a teenage boy.” he covered his face with his hands and let out a loud groan. “no, no, it’s fine!” you tried to conceal your amusement, but failed miserably when you let out a loud laugh, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth.

“see, you’re making fun of me!” he laughed with you, now also covering his mouth with his palm, aware of the fact your sister was asleep in the room across the hall. “sorry, it’s kinda cute tho, you getting worked up so fast.” you bit your bottom lip before straddling his lap, your heat hovering right above the bulge in his pants. he sat up and grabbed your hips to reposition you on top of him, his back now pressed against the headboard. he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv without breaking eye contact with you.

“you don’t wanna watch anymore?” you asked, acting oblivious. “nope”, he said, “done watching.” he closed the gap between you two and pressed his lips to yours, his hands immediately snaking around your waist. your lips moved against matts, soft moans and sighs escaping both your lips as you grinded your hips against his. his hands slid their way down to your ass and gripped it, guiding your movements.

he flipped the two of you around in one swift motion, pinning your hands above your head. “what do you want” he whispered, his lips inches away from yours. “you know what i want…” you didn’t wanna give in, avoiding the words he wanted you to say. he stood up from the bed and grabbed you by your legs, pulling you to the edge of the mattress with minimal effort. you loved the way he manhandled you, the way he threw you around. “i don’t know what you want, not if you don’t tell me.”

“matt, please…” you begged, “i need you.”. your hands were propped up behind you to hold you up as matt stood in between your legs. he softly traced your cheek before grabbing your chin and tilting up your head, making you look up at him with a desperate look on your face. “tell me exactly what you need, yeah? and i’ll give it to you.”

“your tongue” you finally confessed, the wetness between your legs growing with the second. “good girl.” matt got on his knees without breaking eye contact. he looped his fingers in your sweats and panties before looking up at you, and as soon as you nodded, he pulled them both down to your ankles before discarding them to the other side of the room.

you propped yourself up on your elbows and watched the way matt trailed kisses along your inner thighs, before sucking harshly on the skin, leaving behind some dark purple marks. “matt, enough teasing.” you groaned, throwing your head back in frustration. he chuckled and shook his head before finally licking a long stripe up your wet slit. a loud moan escaped your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, “ah- f-fuck!”

“you taste so good”, matt mumbled. he grabbed both your legs and let them rest on his shoulders, gripping your thighs as he ate you out. soft moans escaped his lips, you could tell he loved every second of what was happening, he might have been enjoying this even more than you. you furrowed your brows as your eyes shut, the pleasure completely overtaking your body. you tried closing your legs in around his head when he started sucking on your clit, but matt forced them open easily.

suddenly, the sound of a door creaking and footsteps were heard across the hall. you quickly pushed back matts head, “fuck, my sister’s up…” you looked at him wide-eyed. he had an annoyed look on his face, frustrated he had to stop his work. a few minutes later, the sound of her door closing was heard, meaning she was probably back in her room. “you think she’s gone?” matt asked, still on his knees. “i don’t know… probably.” you responded, uncertain. that was all matt needed to hear, “good enough”, he whispered, before grabbing your thighs and pushing himself into your heat again, his tongue working between your folds.

you tried to be as quiet as possible, praying your sister wouldn’t hear the way matt made you feel, but matt wasn’t having it. “why are you holding back?” he questioned, his eyes locked onto yours. “i can’t, matt- my sister will hear.” you respond breathlessly. “i don’t give a fuck, wanna hear those pretty moans of yours.” he says, before back into your soaking pussy.

you didn’t need to be told twice, loud moans falling from your lips, “matt…” you whined, “oh my god”. you sat up and propped your left arm up behind you, your right hand flying to his hair. matt flattened his tongue against your folds, letting you do the work. you grinded your hips into his face, legs shaking around his head, your grip on his hair growing even tighter. he recognized your movements immediately and slid two fingers into your dripping hole, curling them up to get you closer to your climax.

the knot in your stomach got tighter and tighter, before finally snapping. the hand that was previously in matts hair slapped over your mouth as a loud gasp escaped your lips. matt worked you through your orgasm before removing his fingers and getting off his knees, standing in between your legs again. he brought his two fingers to your lips, “open,” he said.

you obeyed without question, opening up your lips and letting him slide his fingers into your mouth. you sucked on them greedily, tasting your own juices on your tongue. matt swore he could’ve came in his pants just from that sight, the desperate look on your face as you sucked your juices off his fingers, looking up at him with furrowed brows. “fuck, you look so good like that”, he rasped, his voice hoarse. he released his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop before running his fingers through your hair, tugging on it a bit to tilt your head back.

he hovered his face right above yours, and you quickly got the hint, opening up your mouth again. he held your jaw as he let a string of saliva drop from his mouth into yours. he smirked as he watched you swallow his spit, “face down, ass up.” he demanded. you did as told, arching your back for him, your pussy on full display.

you looked back over your shoulder, watching matt take off his boxers and sweats, on which had already formed a small wet patch from his pre-cum. you felt the mattress dip as matt situated himself right behind you and gripped your hips. “think you can take a little more, pretty?” he asked. “yes, i can take it, please.” you whined, wiggling with your ass a little to signal what you wanted.

matt chuckled at your greediness and slid his tip through your folds a few times, before lining himself with your entrance and slowly pushing in. moans and groans fell from both your lips as matt filled you up, completely bottoming out. “fuck, you’re so big…” you praised, you knew matt loved hearing it, and you loved saying it. it was the truth, after all. he probably had the biggest dick out of all the guys you had slept with.

matt grabbed a fistfull of your hair, making a makeshift ponytail with his hand as the other gripped your hip. he tugged on your hair harshly and slid his length almost all the way out of your pussy, before slamming back into you at full speed. you let out a loud cry, gripping the sheets underneath you to ground yourself in some way. matt lifted his hand and slammed it back down on your ass, leaving a red hand print. he pounded into you with no mercy, manhandling you as he groaned and moaned.

you had totally forgotten about your sister at this point, loud moans and screams falling from your lips, luckily slightly muffled by the pillow your face was pressed into. “m-matt, oh my god! fuck- d-don’t stop!” you pleaded. “fuck, good girl. take it- fucking take it. look at you, all fucked out.” he rambled, completely lost in essence as he slammed his length in and out of you repeatedly.

in one swift motion, he flipped you over, so you were now in a missionary position. “wanna look at your pretty face while i fuck you” he rasped. his left hand was gripping your thigh, nails digging into your skin. with his free hand, he pushed up your tank top to free your tits. he furrowed his brows and let out a groan as he watched the way your tits bounced as he slammed into you.

his gaze then lowered down to your stomach, seeing it bulge every time he bottomed out. he brought his right hand to your stomach and pressed down, his jaw hanging slack as he felt his cock slam into your walls from the outside. he grabbed your hand and replaced it with his, making you feel just how deep he was. you stared up at him with your mouth agape, “matt, ‘m gonna- gonna cum” you spoke out in between breaths and moans.

he slid his hand in between your legs, rubbing tight circles on your clit with his thumb. “cum again for me, baby.” he groaned. your legs trembled and your toes curled as you finally reached your climax, this one hitting even harder than the previous one. waves of pleasure ripped through your body as you threw your head back. matt finished shortly after, his hips stuttering and his head dropping forward as he coated your walls in his cum before collapsing next to you on the bed.

after a while of heavy breathing, you both finally caught your breath, chuckling from exhaustion. you cuddle up to him and reach over to grab your phone from the nightstand, your eyes immediately widen when your screen lights up, seeing multiple messages from your sister:

‘oh my god, shut the fuck up!!!!’

‘girl i’m trying to sleep please do this at his house.’

‘i’m so done with y’all. i’m smacking you both so hard tomorrow.’

you showed matt the screen, and his jaw dropped. you locked eyes with him before bursting out into laughter. “why did you decide to go live with your sister again?”

→ MASTERLIST & TAGLIST !

[tastesousweet]

⭒ crush

| hamzahthefantastic x youtuber!reader au

summary: hamzah has a crush that is extremely obvious to everyone except you ... somehow?! (both written & smau!!!)

a/n: happy new years!!!!!!

— march 2024

hamzah is hungry beyond belief.

martin's already assured him both over facetime and text that he's on his way with their full course meal of chinese takeout— currently sat in the basket of martin's rented bike, jostling up and down with every bump of the toronto pavement without a doubt. yet his stomach is still throwing a tantrum, depraved of any nutrients while his brain repeats in a neanderthal-like manner "food. coming. soon." in hopes of reducing the pressure within his poor stomach.

he opens instagram, needing some sort of an escape, because naturally a little doom-scrolling will ease his (dramatic but still very real) pain. somehow, among the ridiculous animal reels and comedic twitch clips on his explore feed, he stumbles upon a reel from you. a girl with a different quality and charm to your face and character than anything he's seen in other content creators.

not only does your bubbly yet elegant voice keep him watching but the subject matter is rather fitting— you're cooking a homemade chicken pot pie for the first time. in the video you talk about how often your mother would prepare it growing up and now it's become a popular craving for you. hamzah watches intently as if he were ready to get up and make his own pot pie alongside you.

"hey! the hell are you smiling at?" martin's voice is breathy due to his trek to and from the chinese restaurant. he walks into the living room holding a crinkly plastic bag reading: "thank you! have a nice day!" with that big, yellow smiley face in between.

"huh? nothin'." hamzah dismisses and adjusts himself on the couch, "come on, 'm starving!" he reaches his hand out to take the food from martin before patting the seat next to him.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

— june 2024

"so when are you gonna come see us?"

it was a surprise to see hamzah follow you on instagram a few months ago. you'd heard his name thrown around in certain spaces of the internet but never really indulged in any of his content.

his instagram had the format of a shitposting ten-year-old but it only made you curious about the humorous twenty-something. eventually you'd watched a youtube video of his; completely laughing your ass off and finding your eyes chasing after hamzah whenever he was in even the tiniest of frames.

it was never a serious crush by any means, just a nice piece of secret eye-candy who also happened to have a great personality and an enviously good work ethic (the effort martin and hamzah put into their videos was astonishing to you).

so you were quite nervous to be the first to dm him, in hopes of a friendship or a least a quick exchange of "hey." it was only right — you two had been liking each other's poss and stories a consistent amount.

the mellow first exchange between the two of you in april blossomed into you both constantly talking in your free time; your friendship quickly to developed a flirty back-and-forth dynamic that sometimes borders on way more than platonic. eventually martin was added to your consistent facetime calls and you’ve even let them convince you to create a discord account to play minecraft and grand theft auto online with them.

and now you’re lying on your leather couch with both of their faces displayed in your laptop’s screen, eager to hear your response.

“i don’t know…” you play with a loose end of the sweater you’re wearing, “what would we even do?”

they both stay quiet for a moment before hamzah laughs, “why are you acting like you don’t wanna say yes right now?”

a smile slowly grows on your face “okay… gimme a second,” you begin to google flight information to and from toronto.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

— september 2024

yourusername

Liked by clairedrake, hamzahthefantastic, and others

yourusername Y’all didn’t tell me they get wild in the 6 , Omg??!! Highly requested video out neow <3

View all comments

chaserutherford 🍽️8️⃣ • ♥︎ by author

yourusername I rlly do miss u already 😖😖😖😖

ynfan01 ohhhh this was so necessary thank u mother☺️!! • ♥︎ by author

yourusername Mhm!!! Olivia Wilde head nod 💞💞

slushieeee333 y/n: slurping pasta , hamzah the whole time: 😊👀😍😊

thatmartinkid hey look ma i made it!!! 🫵😂 • ♥︎ by author

ynsnumberone THE FLIRTING WENT CRAZYYYYY

slushedyn her and hamzah are obsessed with each other i fear

thatslushykid COME BACK 2 TORONTO ASAP I NEED MORE COLLABS RN!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

hamzahluver45 ok but like it’s so obvious that her trying to flirt was just irritating them the whole time !! Like girl ..💀💀

hamzahthefantastic Posting our dms is already one thing , but TAGGING ME is actually crazy 🤔🤔 • ♥︎ by author

yourusername R u mad @ me Bby???? 😕

hamzahthefantastic BruhLmaooooooooooo

freakzahfan that's one too many "o"s just say u wanna kiss her my boy

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“oh!” you accidentally trip over yourself while walking backwards and stumble into hamzah, who was standing in front of the unfamiliar grocery store, watching you prepare to give an intro. “jesus,” martin laughs under his breath from behind the camera. he lowers the camera, showing his feet but still picking up his voice in the mic, “you good?!”

the clip cuts to you stood upright again, "i'm in the six!!!" you exclaim loudly, raising your arms above your head. "and i'm here with slushy noobz to add to my series where other creators "teach me" their specialty. you tug at hamzah's arm and pull him into the frame with you, "hamzah tell them what you and martin are gonna teach me," you look up a him while still holding onto his arm. you interrupt him before he even begins to speak, "oh yeah! martin is also here by the way!" you point and martin flips the camera to himself. "they're just leaving me out it's fine, i know i'm out already, just vote just vote," he references with a sigh before turning it back to you and hamzah. "don't start! chase is on his way to come and film for us-" "listen! this is our plan-- we're gonna teach you how to mukbang; everyone knows we're very qualified in this field and know everything there is to know about the subject, so, uhh, yeah we're kinda experts. i dont know, would you say that, martin?" hamzah rambles. "yeah, i think that's a good way to describe us" "perfect! then you're teachin' me how to kiss next, right?" you ask. hamzah goes from looking at you attentively (hanging onto your every word) to a face deadpanned as he glances over to martin trying not to smile.

the video cuts to a clip with the three of you, finally, all in one shot now that chase is behind the camera. you pull a cart out from its slot and push yourself on it before standing both feet on top of the tiny foot bar, gliding through the automatic doors.

next, a clip of martin speaking to the camera while you and hamzah look through different pasta sauces together, "okay we didn't really explain this well but essentially we're all going to cook a nice dish and then eat it together in front of you guys. isn't that cute?" "yeah, can't wait for us to mukbang together" hamzah speaks. martin turns back to the camera with a smirk, "i bet you wish you were mukbanging with us huh, chase?" "no. and you just made that word up." martin's face falls.

the entire grocery shopping trip is filmed with little moments like hamzah mispronouncing a few brand names, martin talking to strangers about which pasta noodle to try, and you randomly walking off into estranged aisles "just to see if things are really different here"

now, you're all back at martin's home; you read aloud the recipe and hamzah is stood practically on top of you as he also looks down at the phone, all while martin lays ingredients out of the counter. "okay simple enough," hamzah says. "yeah, and you're still gonna make me do all of the work anyway," martin huffs sarcastically. you giggle a bit, "martin the most you'll have to do is boil water, i'll force him to do the rest." "huh???!! who??" hamzah questions, his smiley face “accidentally” leaning far too close to yours. "you, duh!" you laugh and turn away to look for a large pot.

throughout the cooking process you slowly stop helping; talking to mandy while you two eat chips and salsa while leaning on the counter or petting the pets instead of doing any of the tasks given to you from the self-proclaimed chefs.

"this is literally your video! what the hell y/n?!" martin whines when he finds you and mandy making a tiktok in his "man cave" together after you'd told them you were going to the bathroom, "seriously mandy?" all of the audio can be heard from the mics on your clothing. "where was she?" hamzah says monotonous as he scrolls on his phone. "making freaking tiktoks with mandy of course!" you giggle as you walk into the kitchen behind him, "what? the food is practically done, we're just waiting on garlic bread!" you shrug and hamzah immediately turns at the sound of your voice. "well, you gonna at least show us?" hamzah asks casually placing his hands on the counter around you, trapping you in the space between him and the marble surface. "yeah," you tilt your head so you can look at his face as you make fun of his not-so-friendly gesture, "you wanna keep breathing down my neck like that while i show you?" he laughs and moves away to cover up the embarrassment of being called out. "stop!" you laugh and bring him back into frame forcing him and martin to watch you and mandy dance on your phone screen.

the four of you sit on the carpet with plates full of chicken alfredo and pieces of garlic bread laid out on martin’s coffee table. you all talk about your experience in toronto so far, how you and hamzah first met, … et cetera.

martin attempts to teach you canadian slang: “keener is big here.” “actually? what the hell does that even mean?” “it’s kinda like a try hard— people will call you a keener if you’re doing too much, basically.” “wait tell me more!” “i mean things like buddy is way too common here. some random old guys will call me that and it always throws me off??” “yeah they always say it so demeaning,” hamzah laughs. “do you guys actually say ‘eh?’ all the time? i feel like i haven’t noticed it a lot.” you ask genuinely. “i won't lie.. i say it more often than i like to admit!” mandy says. you’ve noticed that no matter if you’re the one speaking or not hamzah’s eyes keep glancing and sometimes full on staring at you (he really doesn’t mean to but he thinks he’s finally processing that you’re actually here with them after months of wanting this) you're flattered nonetheless.

at some point hamzah and martin recreate a scene in lady and the tramp, successfully slurping at the same noodle until hamzah retreats and martin sighs at his lack of commiting to the bit. you laugh along before asking hamzah’s to share a noodle with you with a smile slapped over your face, “me next?” he fights off any blushing with a roll of his eyes and his response of, “yeah? ask me again in a sec.”

after you’ve all finished eating, you complete the video with a big smile and a promise of more collaborations in the future.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

•••

[yieldtotemptation]

NOVEMBER ft. Somi

somi x male reader smut

9k words

"It's this challenge I'm doing. One whole month—thirty days—without having an orgasm," you're explaining, failing spectacularly at keeping things professional. Something possesses you to add: "No nutting. Hence the name."

Somi just stares at you. Flabbergasted.

Leans forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her palms; tearing your entire existence apart with her eyes.

"Can I just say, and I genuinely mean this in the nicest way possible—but that’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard."

—

Here's the conclusion you've arrived at from the one hour you've spent with her: Jeon Somi is some kind of demon.

It’s not a joke, it’s not some painterly metaphor you’re drawing—Somi has clawed her way out from the depths with nothing but a ponytail and an alarmingly tight pair of leggings; arriving on Earth, in the flesh, to make your life a living, breathing, sweat-drenched hell.

So, yeah.

Somi, the succubus. Or something close to that.

It's the only explanation for it really.

See, you're a photographer. Of women, specifically.

Beautiful women in intimate settings, sparse aesthetics. That’s your whole deal. Just homing in on the subject, capturing something ‘real’ without any distractions. Get the essence of who they are when there’s no one looking.

Pretentious, sure, but it’s what’s kept you in demand with the glossy magazines and the avant-garde galleries and the starlets desperate to convince the public that they’re more than just the pretty robots their agencies have programmed them to be.

So, suffice to say, you've met all the types.

The innocent idols that need a mountain of coaxing to come out of their shells. The stone-cold divas that barely acknowledge your existence, yet somehow still expect you to anticipate their every demand. And the flirts, willing to do just about anything for the camera with a wink and a nudge, if it means getting an edge on the rest of the industry.

But Somi? She just is.

Pure temptation incarnate, from head to toe, without even trying. Thighs that threaten to strangle your self-control, a waist that makes sinners out of saints, tits that would have physicists reconsidering the very nature of gravity, all topped by a dangerous smile that could melt a fucking igloo with its sheer wattage.

Somi’s hot.

She knows it, the world knows it, the public crucifies her for it. And she just takes it all, all of it. Melts it all together and forges it into armour.

And now she’s here, in your private space. None of the usual entourage of make-up artists, managers, whatever. Just herself and an absurdly sweet frappé. Looking so comfortable that it’s making you feel like you’re intruding.

She’s leaning on your table, ass flush against the wood, arms crossed, and her eyes—those fathomless dark pools—land on yours, holding them hostage.

Barely has to make any effort when she laces her words together, piles on an unhealthy dose of insinuation, cocks an eyebrow and asks—“So, how do you want me?”

Naked, preferably. On all fours, ass to the sky. Or maybe on her knees, mouth hanging open, tongue out, elbows squeezed together to make her tits sing.

Yeah, you're already composing the perfect shot in your head.

Fuck.

You rub your eyes. Maybe thirty days of self-imposed abstinence has finally broken you, and this is all some kind of feverish hallucination driven by your libido.

But no, Somi is still there, lounging in your studio, all curves and challenge. Just being insanely hot.

You cough, clear your throat. Put on the mask of someone far more professional.

“Anywhere you’d like,” you’re answering, keeping your expression decidedly blank. This isn’t the first time you’ve been the only outlet for a young sexpot desperate to let off some steam. You have the experience. But again—fuck. Thirty days is far too long. Somi is far too much. “Just keep it natural. Like I’m not even here.”

Somi just laughs, sweet and sinful, her whole thing. Pushes off the table with a grace that seems almost supernatural (again, see the demon theory), before adding a thought, like it just sprung up in her pretty head— “Easier said than done.”

Distractions aside, all things considered, she’s the perfect subject.

Gets what you’re going for immediately, makes herself at home amongst your studio's chaos. Glides around the room, runs her fingers over your equipment strewn about—the lights, the lenses, the negatives hanging in the corner.

The sway of her hips, the flex of her back. The dip of her brow and purse of her lips when she asks, "What's this for?", and the genuine interest when she listens to you explain about aperture, and light metres, and so on and so on.

(Snap a photo of her silhouette when she's by the window, leaning against the glass to spy on the passers-by.

Snap a photo of her smile, when you say something that's really not that funny, but she laughs anyway.

Snap a photo of her legs, when she finds a couch to lay on—stretching herself out, showing off their length, the tone of her thighs, the promise kept hidden by her leggings being pulled tighter and tighter.)

Another hour passes quickly, and you take a break there, more for your sanity than her endurance. Leave her to her own devices while you flick through the shots you’ve managed to get so far.

Only, when you scroll through your laptop, scan through the dozens upon dozens of rapid-fire photos you've taken—it's a horror show.

None of them work.

Not because of her, but because of you.

The way you've shot her. Far too revealing—you've put too much of yourself in these pictures. Turned them from images to confessions. Each one a fucking love letter to her body—her legs, her tits, her lips, her ass, her tits again—everything about her that makes you ache.

It's not art. It's borderline pornographic.

And yet, Somi's still just lying there.

Drinking down another pick-me-up that she's had delivered, this one with enough caffeine to take down several horses, chatting away so casually while you try to stitch your soul back together. Sipping and talking about who-knows-what, throwing out feelers, smiling easily, laughing sincerely, utterly oblivious to the havoc she's wreaking on your self-control.

An effortless grace when she lifts herself off the couch, saunters over to you and leans in far too close, gets far too familiar, lays on far too much charm when she asks, “Mind if I take a look?”

Yeah, you do, but you still force a calmness into your voice that you’re certainly not feeling when you turn the laptop so she can see.

“Wow,” is her initial review, and now she’s touching you, hand on your shoulder, tits pressed up against your arm and you’re certain that none of this is accidental, like an oh, just trying to get closer so I can better appreciate the photos you’re flipping through, never mind that you're getting a precise estimation of my cup size just from the feeling alone.

Do your best—ignore the pressure, the warmth, the softness. Watch her face, see all the tiny details; her eyes lighting up when she catches something she likes, her thoughtful hum at a particularly good shot. The smacking of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the recognition as you scroll.

One by one, with each photo, her expression morphing from curiosity to understanding.

She notices.

“You’re good at this.”

You wait for it. “That’s all?”

Her eyes glint, “None of these can be used though.”

“I know.”

The screen’s frozen on a particularly compromising shot: there’s Somi’s face, barely in it, just the bottom-half, her lips pouting out and looking all plump and delicious. Camera angled up high, pointing down the dip of her tight, sheer top and the shadowy valley that makes up her cleavage. Scanning down to her legs, folded to the side beneath her, the squish of her ass cheeks over her heels, spilling into the corner of the screen.

Sin, captured in fifty megapixels, barely contained inside a four by six frame.

A submissive dream.

“These for your personal collection, or—” and when she catches the heat rising up the back of your neck, changing directions, “—not that I mind, as long as I get a copy.”

Clearly finding all this much funnier than you are—that smile’s a knife to your chest. So sharp and knowing; it would have you gasping for air, if only you’d look.

Keep it cool, play it off with a shrug, “We’ll try again.”

“I doubt we’ll get any different results,” Somi’s predicting, bouncing on her toes now, getting closer and closer until she doesn’t need to make much of an effort to make herself heard. Close enough that she could feel you now, if she wanted to. Just brush her fingers over you and get a good idea of the reason why this photoshoot is going so far off the rails.

She instead leans her chin onto your shoulder, breath hot against your cheek. Like throwing a match on gasoline.

All the power of this girl, this woman, wrapped up in a single gesture. Wielding it so freely, so innocently, so easily. Heat that's self-aware, that knows just how much it's burning.

You caution, “Keep it professional.”

“Doesn’t that run counter to the whole aesthetic. I thought we were going for raw?”

“Natural.”

“What’s the difference?”

You need to stop yourself, shut the laptop, end the session right now before it’s much too late. Before you’re turning to her and realising just how close her lips are to yours, just how tiny her waist is compared to your hands, and you're saying the words that will end all semblance of propriety and professionalism— “With you, I don’t think there is one.”

“Well as long as we agree,” and Somi’s turning away, striding back to the couch, leaving you to breathe again. Making you thankful for the space, but missing the suffocation of her heat all at once.

Plopping herself down on the cushions, one leg folded under the other, leggings so thin you can see the shape of her underneath. Natural, just like you asked—looking like she's the only one here that’s exactly where she wants to be.

You’re thinking you’re off the hook.

Maybe you can get back to work.

Only, “So, it’s been a while, then?”

“Somi,” you’re saying her name for the first time, officially, and it’s coming out far too strangled. Far too needy. She loves the sound.

“Come on, humour me.”

“Somi,” again, you’re trying, clearing out the cobwebs from your throat.

“Sir.”

What the fuck.

She doesn’t move. Waits patiently for your answer.

You give her the inch, knowing she’ll take the mile.

Raking a hand through the back of your head. “Thirty days.”

The look on Somi's face is apoplectic. You're glad you have the wherewithal to capture it.

"It's a—" and you're feeling quite stupid as you explain it to her in detail; the abstinence for a month, the purpose of it all, the supposed benefits, "challenge."

That sends Somi ranting, hands flailing in the air. Incredulous, at you, at this challenge, at the idea of putting yourself through this self-imposed torture. “Stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

And then, when she sees your face.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But seriously. Thirty days? And not once.”

Your voice is dry. “No.”

“Not even by accident?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Wet dreams, nothing? No jerking it? No sex? At all?” Somi’s bursting out laughing, hand flying to cover her mouth, barely even able to breathe. It’s so absurd to her.

And it doesn’t take long before she puts it all together. Processes the information, sees the picture she’s painted of you. The sad, desperate artist, with nothing but a dying hunger and a camera. Realises the predicament you’ve put yourself in just by having her here.

She’s not laughing any more.

“And so you chose today, November 30th, to schedule me?”

You’re very, clearly frustrated. “Not my choice.”

“I see.” She bites her lip. Angles herself just so.

“Dial it back.”

“Tell that to your boner.”

You look down. Pants distinctly flat.

Somi’s grinning. “Made you look.”

“Are you done?” You ask, forcing yourself to look away from her, busying your hands by screwing on a different lens, as if it’ll somehow make her appear any less distracting, like it’ll blur out all your worst intentions and bring back some actual decorum to this whole fiasco. “We don’t have much time left.”

Turning back to her, raising your camera, aiming straight and true and—

Somi, unzipping her heels, kicking them across the floor with a dramatic flourish.

Snap.

Somi, lifting her top up and over her head, stretching her arms up high to push her breasts out forward; making them tight, outlined, so obviously pebbled against the cotton of her bra.

Snap.

Somi, digging her thumbs into the waistband of her tights, pointing her legs up in the air so she can peel them off without getting up, thrusting her hips up off the couch to yank them over her ass.

Snap.

“Somi,” you’re saying again, because apparently, you’ve forgotten how to make other words.

“Just doing what feels natural,” she says, smile turning wicked, reaching behind her back to unclasp and oh, now she’s completely naked. Rearranging herself into this pose. As if she isn’t already the centre of your universe.

Thirty days, flushed directly down the drain.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

—

You’ve found it, the perfect photograph.

Somi, kneeling on the couch, hands folded on her lap, staring down the barrel of your camera with her tits out. Unreal. Works of art, both of them. Miracles of flesh, gravity be damned.

“You’re not taking any photos,” she points out.

You swallow hard. “I’m taking it in.” 

Her hands come up to cup her breasts, giving them a bounce. For fun. For you. For the look on your face. You capture the jiggle. "Good, because I'd hate to think all this was going to waste."

It’s a little fucked up, how right Somi is. You wanted raw, honest—here it is, Somi as she kneels. Just being herself, being the woman everyone accuses her of being—the sinner, the whore, the slut.

Being the woman she knows she is, with everything that it implies—the confidence, the appeal, the fucking powerhouse of magnetic attraction. Not an image being projected, not a role she’s playing, but the reality of her, shooting straight into your veins, raw sex personified—as natural as breathing.

And before you know it, you’re capturing her lips with yours, an ‘mmmph’ slipping out from her as your mouths collide and your tongues meet.

It’s not intentional, it just happens. You lean in, she’s hot, she smells like heaven and sin wrapped in a neat little bow and you’re kissing her.

Tongue finds hers, attacks, retreats, joins and intertwines, and it’s everything you imagined it would be turned all the way up—sweeter, hotter, and so much more fucking dangerous.

Lips head south, tongue sliding along her neck, teeth on her shoulder, kisses into her collarbone; and finally, you’re at her breasts.

Softer than a dream, tasting like pure addiction; you kiss the tops of her breasts, lap up all the sweat that’s beaded down in between. Drag your tongue down, follow the curve, the dip, and ending at the hard little points poking against your lips. Filling your mouth with as much of it as you can—licking, suckling, making a complete mess of spit on her chest, and then biting, just a little, just to make her moan.

“So this is what denial does to a man, hm?”  Somi slithers into your ears, under your skin, hands at the back of your head and holding you in place.

She arches into you, pushing herself closer, letting you taste, indulge. Feast on what you’ve been missing out over this long stretch of days.

And fuck, maybe it is the abstinence, the pent-up need, or maybe it’s the fact that tits in general are just fucking incredible things. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that it’s Somi, in all her outrageously perfect glory, so happy to be the one that gets to ruin you, that’s making you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust.

Not that it matters one bit.

Not that there’s any thoughts at all in your head; there’s just Somi’s tits and your tongue. Lapping it up like you’re trying to drink her in, memorise every contour, every curve, every little goosebump you induce with each swipe of your tongue.

Somi’s tits; a canvas, and your mouth’s painting the picture of a lifetime.

“Baby,” Somi coos, hands on the side of your face, lifting you up off the cushions of her breasts. She’s giggling, her fingers wiping at the strings of drool that you hadn’t even realised you’d been leaving behind. “Remember what we’re here for?”

Right.

The camera. The art. The job. The no-touching rule.

But your mind is a blurry mess of tits and need, and all your blood has headed south for the afternoon, and it's making you feel like you're melting from the inside out.

“Let me give you a hand.” Somi’s gentle with you, like you’re a stick of dynamite with a frayed wick, just the slightest touch and you’ll blow.

She takes your hand, fingers brushing against yours, little sparks of electricity making your hairs stand on end, and lifts your camera up to point directly at her.

And then, she smirks. As if to say, yeah, she’s read all your thoughts; seen straight into you and has discovered the vault where you’ve kept every one of your deepest, darkest impulses locked up for thirty long days.

Somi repositions herself. Poses her body, determined to bring every single filthy, desperate, starving fantasy of yours to life.

Reclining back into the couch, thighs apart, spreading her legs wide.

Showing off her cunt.

Bare and gleaming. Shaven clean—just this perfect, pink, wet little pussy calling out to you. Open like a fucking invitation.

You’re staring.

She waits for you to catch up.

“Now would be a good time to start using that camera.”

You take a step back. Heart racing, hands shaking; you’re usually so much better than this. Take a deep breath, lift the camera, do your job, make your art, capture as much as you can while you have fucking perfection putting herself on display for you.

The click, the shutter echoing through the studio.

It makes Somi sigh.

Her eyes find the lens, locking down her target. A fucking miracle of biology, that’s Somi. Born to have cameras on her, as in love with them as they are with her.

Her fingers dip, trace down over her ludicrously tiny waist, her abs, her bellybutton, stopping short of her mound. Dancing over her pussy, light as a feather.

Fucking grinning as she asks, “Like what you see?”

The camera’s flash answers for you.

Touching herself, stroking, circling, pressing down. Building a crescendo that you can see painted on her; through the tensing of her abs, the heaving of her breasts, her cheeks going pink, her breaths getting shorter, and her lips parting to moan.

You’re barely conscious of the fact that you’re talking under your breath, a singular demand— “Keep going.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thirty days of denial has turned you into a starving man, only for Somi to show up and make herself a full-course feast. The perfect model, but also the worst fucking thing possible for your resolve.

You take a deep breath, grip the camera tighter.

If you’re going to crack, you might as well go out with a bang.

Guiding her, as if she was any other client, and this was just another photoshoot— “Open your legs wider, Somi. Show me everything.”

Her eyes widen, pupils dilate. Sparks, excitement, lighting them up. She does as she’s told, pushing out her knees further, sinking down into the couch cushions.

Thighs quivering, pussy sopping wet and pulsing. All for you. For your camera.

Another click, the shutter again, like a time-bomb ticking down to your doom.

“Play with your clit. Tease it.”

Her hand obeys, delicate, slender fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, hips bucking slightly with each pass. The noises she makes are obscene. Harsh, breathy whispers that make you throb; moans that get caught in the back of her throat.

It’s a rush of blood straight to the head, an almost dizzying sensation, having Somi so eagerly following your every command. Her face says it all, this slut positively loves being told what to do.

“Keep it light. That’s it,” you say, stepping closer, hitting your marks, your angles. “Turn to me. I want to see your face.”

“Like this?” Somi breathes, turning to face you fully, her hand still playing with herself, stroking in a way that's almost cruel—so gentle, so teasing, so obviously designed to make you lose your mind. “Getting the pictures you’ve been dreaming of? Someone like me all spread out for you?”

You nod, jaw clenched, keeping steady. Or at least, you think you are, considering how good Somi’s making this for you.

Making sure you get the right shots of her—her pussy, swollen and puffy, dripping down a puddle onto your couch. Her tits; pinched until they’re hard and sensitive, a vivid red against the stark white of her skin. Her eyes, wide and wild and looking straight down the lens, communicating her arousal in a million different heated ways without saying a single word.

Let it be known; Somi knows exactly what she’s doing.

Knows when to sigh, knows how to arch her back, knows in which direction to pout her lips. Knows how to make every click of the camera count.

“Good girl,” you’re telling her, praising her, and it’s enough to make her keen.

“Am I?”

“Of course,” you say, leaning in closer, close enough to feel the heat of her body, a furnace against your skin. See the sweat dripping down her thighs, tiny little droplets shimmering against the muscle, begging to be licked away. “You’re doing so good, Somi. So, so good.”

You’re getting closer now, kneeling. All for the sake of the perfect shot.

Seeing her fingers work, spreading herself open, exposing her folds, glistening. Her clit standing tall and proud. Her entrance pulsing, waiting to be filled. It’s like watching a masterpiece come to life, a photo that’s been taken a thousand times before but never quite captured right. Until now. Until Somi.

Somi's smiling down at you, all knowing, all tempting, making your mouth water, and it takes all your self-discipline to not drop the camera and replace your lens with your tongue.

She laughs, low and throaty. “Looks like you’re enjoying the view.”

“You have no idea, Somi,” you answer, adding, “But you can make it better, can’t you? Make it wetter. Hotter.”

“Mmhmm,” she agrees, getting to work at making your instructions real. She’s a professional too, after all. A master of her craft. Her other hand snakes down to join her first; one hand pressing firmly down on her clit, the other plunging two fingers up into her cunt. Pushing in, curling, until it’s hitting that sweet spot that makes her preen.

“Perfect, Somi.”

You’re transfixed, as Somi starts to fuck herself in earnest, the camera almost forgotten in your hand. She’s so drenched that every stroke is accompanied by a wet, slick sound; and the way she’s creaming around her digits, dripping down her wrist, it’s far beyond a simple performance being put on for the sake of a photograph. It’s the real deal.

Somi’s breaths come faster, her eyes glaze over, and she’s biting down on her bottom lip, trying to keep from crying out too loudly.

You know you’re getting the best of her, can see it across her face: this is what she truly enjoys. Being watched, being desired, being told what to do all for your pleasure.

“Oh, baby,” she’s barely managing hushed, strained whispers, “Oh, oh, oh…”

You feel like you’re in a trance, your own hand wandering down, needing to adjust lest you rip right through your jeans. The sight alone is devastating enough, but it’s making you swell, until there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.

“That looks so,” Somi’s licking her lips, seeing the state you’re in, seeing the desperation in your eyes, the strain down below, “Nice.”

The camera is your anchor, your north star in this whole mess. You keep it steady, even as Somi’s breaths grow shallower, turn to pants. Losing herself to you, to the moment, to being captured in all her vulnerability.

She’s fucking herself even faster now, fingers sawing in and out of her pussy, wetter and wetter still, knuckles turning white with the force she’s applying.

“You’re doing so good, Somi, such a good girl for me,” you’re reassuring her, unable to hold back your own need, your own desire from leaking into your voice. It’s a battle, a war really, against your own urges, your innate desire to just drop everything and dive into her, feel her tightness around you, make her scream out your name.

But it’s too soon, Somi’s too close, and it would be a fucking crime to stop her.

“Baby,” she gasps, the word a prayer and a taunt in equal measure, “Baby, I don’t think I can last any longer.”

You’re grinning now, heart racing, camera at the ready. “Good.”

Somi’s on a knife’s edge, balancing on the precipice of climax. You can see it in how her body’s seizing, how she throws her head back, exposing her neck to you—needing your kiss, your bite, your claim. But you resist, intent on capturing every moment of her unravelling.

Because you want to know. Want to capture it. How she cums. What sounds she makes, what noises she can’t keep in. What she looks like when she falls apart.

“Cum for me, Somi,” you’re telling her, “I want to capture it all.”

Somi trembles. She wants it too.

Her eyes screw shut, her breath hitches, and she’s there, sinking back into the couch, letting out this sweet little gasp of anticipation.

The studio goes silent except for the sound of her fingers in her cunt and the shuttering of your camera.

In, out, snap.

In, out, snap.

Fucking herself. Fucking you with her very existence.

And then—“I’m going to—”

Her body arches off the couch, a scream ripping from her throat, her hand working furiously, pussy clenching so sweetly around her fingers. It’s the type of photo people spend entire careers never getting to capture, the most beautifully obscene sight you’ve ever been lucky to witness—Somi, in the throes of pleasure, wracked by her own orgasm, all for the sake of your camera.

It hits her hard and fast and all at once, turns her body into a bow, taut and tense, before it’s released, snapped, melting her down into a boneless puddle.

You watch in awe as Somi cums, writhes and wriggles, and she makes these noises that you’ve never heard from a woman before; crying out so loud you’re surprised the neighbours aren’t banging down the door to see what the commotion is about.

It’s only when she finally relaxes, is released from her orgasm, that you lower the camera, out of breath from the sheer exertion wrought by just watching her.

You’re both near devastation—Somi sprawled on the couch, chest rising and falling, eyes closed and an elated smile on her face, and you, knees threatening to give out, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of her satisfaction.

“That was—” Somi tries shaping the words, but they don’t come. She just lies there, lazy and sated, catching her breath.

Moments pass before she can open her eyes again, only to find you, standing over her, jeans vanished, cock out and level with her parted lips.

“That was just the beginning, Somi.”

It's just the sight of you, but Somi’s delighted. Seeing you like this—exposed and so ridiculously hard. All because of her.

She slides off the couch, kneeling at your feet.

“Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. Anything at all. Just make sure you capture it.”

“Then suck.”

Wet, hot heaven. Somi’s mouth is heaven.

Tongue darting forward, swirling around the tip, teeth grazing the head, and you’re groaning, hips jerking forward involuntarily until you’re falling into her mouth.

Somi’s got a way about her, a finesse that’s unmatched in everything she does. So, so good for you; opening her mouth nice and wide, hollowing her cheeks just right, pursing her lips to make sure you feel it when she sucks.

Just gleeful when your hand finds purchase in her ponytail, when hers wrap around the base of your cock, and you push. Inch by inch into the sweet heat of her mouth, taking it all, making sure you can see it, see how thankful she is to be granted the privilege of swallowing you whole; of having you completely filling her throat.

Holding herself there, nose pressed up against your stomach, eyes looking up, watering slightly around the edges. Not even gagging, just warming your cock with her throat, pulsing, tight, unbearably hot.

She raises her brows.

Ah, that’s right.

Snap.

Pulling off you, dragging her lips, her tongue up your shaft, leaving behind a choked, drooling mess that she’s so fucking proud of.

Giggling around a mouthful of your cock, laughter vibrating across your skin, and it’s a wonder you don’t lose yourself right then and there.

But somehow, you hold on; brace yourself against Somi massaging your balls, tickling the underside of your tip with her tongue. Playing with you, taunting, enjoying every second. Popping your cock out of her mouth so she can truly take measure of you at your achingly hardest, so she can breathe onto your cock in wonder, “Just look at you.”

Balancing your length in the palm of her hand, barely able to wrap her fingers around your girth.

“So big, so hard,” she’s rapt, talking to you, to herself, making sure the ghosts haunting your studio know exactly what she’s dealing with her. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

“Darling,” you’re calling her, making her swoon, “Take it all.”

And she does. Somi, eager, opens her mouth wide, and lets you fuck her face. Getting you deep, so deep that you can feel her throat clench around your tip, slurping, moaning, choking now, but never, ever stopping. Just drooling down your thighs like the good little slut she knows you need her to be.

You’re back at it, taking photos, trying to get the perfect angle, but it’s proving a big ask when your knees are wobbling and your vision’s growing blurry. You’ve got Somi’s eyes in the viewfinder, all wide and blown with lust, looking straight through the lens of the camera and at you, daring you to break first.

But there’s still so much more of her to capture, so much more of her face to fuck.

Her red lips against your skin. Her cheeks bulging with your length. The line of her throat as she swallows. The tears in her eyes when she gags.

Somi’s arms loop around your back, cupping your ass, pulling you closer, urging you deeper.

Winking, giving you all the right cues; a muffled, “Here,” she says with her eyes. “This angle.”

And she’s right. It’s perfect. She’s got a talent for this.

Taking you deep, feeling like your cock’s never going to be able to leave her throat, only to pull back so you can see just how much she’s enjoying herself. How much she’s into this, so grateful to have you capturing every moan, every gag, every little sound she makes as you fuck her mouth like it’s the first time—and after a whole month it might as well be.

“Fuck, take it, Somi, you’re doing so well,” you tell her, knowing what it does to her—the praise, the adoration. Absorbed straight into her bloodstream, making her work harder, suck better, choke a little more. “Such a good girl.”

She loves it. Her eyes brighten, she squeezes your thighs, nails digging in. She loves it all.

You’re getting so close, you can feel it—thirty days of denial are about to come to a head, and she's going to be the one to bring you there. And yet, you still haven’t gotten nearly enough pictures to do her justice.

Somi sees it too, she can tell, knows just how close you are, but still, she's just lie you. She wants more.

She pulls back, an idea hatching in that filthy mind of hers, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Wait,” she says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, cleaning herself of her spit, her drool, your leakage. “I want another photo. For comparison’s sake. Just for my memories.”

You’re not sure what she means, but you don’t ask questions. You just keep your camera at the ready, watching her move, watching her lean closer.

Your cock hovering just above her cheek, tip bumping up against her nose, leaving a wet streak across her face. She holds herself there, your length atop her face, and it’s all in view—her eyes fluttering closed, the tip of her tongue poking out to catch a taste of your precum, the way she’s breathing, deep and heavy, smelling the scent of you, inhaling it like it’s oxygen.

Somi—her face, her tits, her waist, her thighs.

Your cock.

All in view.

That’s the photo.

And when it’s done, you’re backing off, relearning how to breath, how to stand on your own two feet without crumbling to the ground. Somi’s tongue chases you but you’re out of reach, setting the camera down on the floor.

You need to get in on this. Fuck silly challenges. Fuck being a passive observer.

You’re done just watching. You need to feel her.

Somi looks at you all smug and satisfied, on her knees, awaiting your next instruction. “Finished taking pictures?”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you start peeling off your clothes, each layer like a heavy weight of your shoulders; until you’re just as bare and needy as she is.

Back to Somi, cradling her face, letting her lean into your palm. Running your thumb across her jaw, dragging it across her lips, stamping it onto her tongue.

She sucks.

Christ.

Thirty days of hell, given up for one moment in heaven.

Fuck it. She’ll make it worth it.

You tell her in simple, clear terms. “I’m going to fuck you now, Somi.”

“Please.”

It’s your turn now.

You relax into the couch, legs spread wide, cock throbbing in the open air, beckoning her to come closer.

Somi reads the room, your posture, your need, and she rises to the occasion. Joining you on the couch, back on her knees, thighs gripping on the outside of yours. Hands planted firmly on your shoulders, and the whole time, her eyes don’t leave yours, not even for a second.

Appreciate her, this woman, giving herself over to you.

Untying her ponytail, sending honey-brown hair cascading down her face, caressing her neck, her shoulders, meeting the tops of her breasts, perfectly rounded and waiting for the return of your teeth. Her waist, her abs, tensing and releasing, with every hot breath. And her pussy, already there, shimmering, dribbling down your cock, waiting.

Somi’s waiting for your permission.

So, taking her by the back of her neck, pulling her close, kissing her hard. Forcing this whine into your throat as your cock bumps up against her folds, sets off fireworks down her spine.

It’s a translation. Your need, from your tongue to hers, telling her that it’s only her that can do this you. Can rip you from responsibilities, from sanity, from all the shit that’s been keeping you going for the last thirty days.

Telling her that it’s worth giving it all up for just a taste, because maybe that’s the point of the challenge in the first place. Not a matter of self-control but a way to save yourself for something—someone—so potent, so powerful, so fucking irresistible that you just have to surrender to.

You pull apart, breaths hot and ragged, tongues still connected by strands, your hands already at her waist.

“You’re going to ride me, Somi. You’re going to cum on my cock and I’m going to watch it all.”

Somi nods, understanding.

Letting you guide her by the hips, sliding her fingers between her legs to take hold of your cock, aiming it at her entrance.

Lowering herself down, slow, so fucking slow, like it’s a brand-new form of torture, until your cock is nestled at the entrance of her heat, and you’re both vibrating with the anticipation of it, the gravity of this moment.

You take a harsh breath. “Ready?”

Somi presses her forehead to yours. Teasing, “Are you?”

And then, inch by inch, dragging her cunt down your shaft, making you feel every bit of her wetness, her tightness, every bit of her heat, Somi takes you in.

Pussy tightening around you like a fist, walls pulsing, massaging your cock, like she’s already trying to milk you dry. This moan that’s torn from her lips, deep and primal, something she’s been holding in for far too long, this needy, unholy cry that takes the shape of your name.

And when she’s bottomed out, when you’ve filled her until all she knows is you, Somi looks down in your eyes, nothing but pure, unfiltered lust strewn across her face. “Everything you were hoping for?”

You try, but fail, to form coherent words, just manage a grunt of pleasure, a nod of your head, and she laughs—it's the sweetest, most evil sound you've ever heard. She's got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“Good to know,” she says, and that’s all she needs to start moving, to set the rhythm that’s going to shake the walls, send them crashing to the ground until all that’s left is the two of you fucking amongst the rubble.

Her thighs tighten around you, hips start to roll in a way that’s just too fucking good, too fucking perfect. The friction is everything, makes the world narrow to just the two of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the drenched slick of her pussy, the heavy scent of her filling the air.

“Baby,” she repeats, each time her thighs slap down against yours, each thrust all the way up into her guts. “This cock is so perfect for me, so fucking—”

A snap of your hips into her, pulling her down hard, making her tits jump at the force of it, making Somi wail. There’s her cunt, spasming around you, tightening, trying to hold you in, trying to keep you there, but you’re not letting up.

You take over, holding by the hips and fucking her, like you’ve been waiting for, like you’ve been so fucking desperate for, like she needs so badly.

“God, you’re really—really fucking pent up, aren't you?" Somi's words are chopped up by the relentless thrusts of your hips, making her stutter, her voice all strained and breathy. Bouncing on you now, letting you set the pace, eyes screwed shut, just giving herself over to you. “I’m so, so lucky. So lucky that it gets to be me that breaks you. That takes you. That gets all this cum you’ve been saving this whole time.”

You’re gritting your teeth, unable to do anything but just fuck. Driven mad by it, by every impulse coming right up to the surface.

Everything you’ve been holding back, it’s all here, being unleashed onto Somi.

Fuck her, fill her, make her scream—‘Please, please, please’. Those are the only thoughts in your head now. Forget about the job, the photographs, the responsibility—just be yourself, a man on the edge, ready to jump off the fucking cliff.

“Baby,” Somi’s repeating, as your fingers find purchase in her ass, as she lays kisses on your shoulder, marking you up along your neck and down your jaw. There’s other words too—filth, all of it; whining to you about how you’re filling her up so good, about how she’s so wet for you, about how you’re going to make her cum so hard. But it’s all just noise to you. Noise that can be summarised in the simplest of requests, right from Somi’s lips—“Please, fucking use me.”

It's the perfect way to come apart—have someone like Somi, with her heavenly tits in your face, and her greedy, greedy cunt soaking up everything you’re willing to give. Begging, wanting, needing to be ruined.

“So fucking tight for me,” you’re kissing into her chest, finding your voice somewhere between her breasts. Telling her, “Fuck, Somi, your pussy. It’s so good for me. So fucking perfectly wet.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Somi sighs back, arms barely hanging on, holding at your neck, unable to do nothing but whimper and bear it. Bear this fucking you’re giving her, your cock invading her cunt, making her pussy tighten around it like a vice, making her abs clench, her tits jump, her throat swallow—making her sweat.

It’s like she was made for this—cunt made for your cock, body made for your arms. Somi, perfectly designed to be used by you. To moan and whine at your mercy; to be fucked, to be filled, to ruin you and to be ruined all the same.

“I can’t, I’m trying but I can’t hold on,” Somi’s teary-eyed, kissing at your face, your neck, her breath hot and sweet against your ear. “Baby, please. I need to feel you. Need more of you.”

And you’re only too eager to oblige.

Lifting your head, pulling her body closer. Catching her left nipple in your mouth, sucking hard, nipping at the peak until she’s gasping, until she’s arching her back, pressing her chest closer. Feeling the flesh flush against your lips, hitting your chin with each hard thrust.

Fuck, her tits. You could suffocate between them only to claw your way out of the grave just for another taste.

Her nails dig into your scalp, demanding more—more attention, more adoration, more worship. You give it to her—switching between each of her breasts, suckling and licking, making her whine and buck against your teeth.

“Just like that, you’re so good at that, so good with my tits,” she moans, short, tiny sighs that send your hips jerking upwards. Fucking her faster, quick, staccato thrusts that hit her just right, make her walls quiver around you. “They’re yours, all for you. All of me is yours.”

Her orgasm builds; it’s palpable, a storm brewing in the studio, sweeping up everything in its path. Each breath she takes is a hitch, a little cry, a whine. So tight around you, fucking her so hard, so deep that you can feel it coming from the inside out.

“Filling me so good, so, so good,” she mewls, and there’s still some fight in her left, a burst of energy in her thighs, allowing her to grind down harder, drop her ass on you—an up, down, up, down that echoes through the studio with each smack.

“You’re going to cum for me Somi,” you’re telling her, detailing exactly how she’ll come completely apart. “You’re going to cum all over my cock, you’re going to scream for me when you do it, okay? Tell me how good it feels.”

“Yes, yes, yes, tell me what you want—anything—I’ll do it, I’ll be so, so good for you—”

“You’re going to beg me for my cum, Somi. Going to beg me to give it to you until you can’t take any more,” you’re growling, your teeth sinking into her tits, your tongue pushing up against her flesh, making her sing.

You’re fucking her apart, tearing her in two with your cock. This girl you've only just met, who only just walked into your life; nothing but sex in a pair of high heels, and you’re already rearranging the furniture of her soul.

Now she’s the one that can’t make sense of things, can’t form full sentences—just incoherent whines and cries, each one stacking on top of the other, until the foundation’s all tilted and it’s going to collapse any second now.

Just waiting for you.

Separate from her chest, take a fistful of her hair, pull her back so you can look in her eyes and see. See just how badly you’re ruining her, how terribly she’s falling apart.

Make sure she can see you, has her attention on nothing but you when you tell her, finally, “Cum. Cum for me, Somi. All over my cock.”

She’s breaking.

“Now.”

“Please, I—” Somi’s words live and die on her lips, barely making it out before it hits her, seizes her entirely, forces her cunt to strangle your cock as she shatters.

It’s all there, her pussy tightening, pulsing, clenching, releasing in this quake of bliss that feels like a sucker punch straight through your gut.

When she cums it hits her, hits you, waves of heat washing over your cock, splashing down onto your thighs. It’s the sensation. So overwhelming, so undeniable, grinding down her orgasm onto you, pleading, over and over and over again, “Don't stop, don't stop, please!”

Writhing in your arms, needing to be held close to stop her from falling off the couch completely. Eyes rolling, head thrown back, exposing her neck, the perfect arc of her throat. Her body jolts, jerks, twitches, and it has you fucking hypnotised.

And all Somi can do is say, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

She keeps going, until each thread is unravelled, until you’ve fucked loose every last bit of control she’s got, until she’s nothing but a trembling mess in your arms.

But it’s not over, not yet.

You’re still hard, so fucking hard. Bursting at the seams. And Somi’s looking down at you, pulling herself back together. Seeing your cock, buried inside her. Seeing the mess you’ve made of her, her own pussy. Seeing everything.

And she’s smiling, because she knows what comes next.

“Use me.”

You lift her off your cock, so easy to carry; her tiny waist in your hands, she’s so light. Still shivering, these tiny, little aftershocks quivering through her, it’s like she’s clay in your hands, ready to be moulded at your discretion.

Somi gasps when she’s laid out on the couch, her legs spread wide, her cunt leaking down her thighs, all cream and cum. She adjusts herself, makes herself comfortable, presentable. Putting herself in the best possible state to be used by you.

“Use me, baby,” she repeats again, that sweat plea that’s going to be you’re undoing. She’s so, so needy, practically whining for more, for everything, for anything as long as it involves your cock and her.

You stand over her, cock at the ready, eyes on your next target, the natural stage for the grand finale, the pièce de resistance of this whole fucked up photoshoot—Somi’s breasts.

She follows your gaze, realises, “You want to fuck these tits, don’t you?”

You find your voice gravelly, deep. “Yeah.”

Somi giggles, hands at her chest, taking either side of her breasts, pushing them together with her palms and creating this gorgeous valley, just waiting for your cock. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to beg.”

Somi blinks. Once, twice. Sees the look on your face, sees how hard you are for her, how desperate you are to let go.

But she knows how much you need to hear it. Knows how much she wants to say it.

“Please. Baby, please. Fuck my tits. Cum all over me. I need it.” Somi’s licking her lips, massaging her breasts together, showing you just how soft they are, how ready they are for you. “I need to feel your cum on me. All over me. My face, my neck, my chest. Everywhere. Let me do this for you.”

That’s it.

You’re back on the couch, straddling her stomach. Knees on either side of her waist, cock between her tits. Soft, warm, inviting.

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Just like that,” you manage, each word a mountain of effort as you watch your cock disappear between her breasts.

It’s a gentle push, that’s all it takes, and Somi starts to move, making her tits jiggle around your dick, squeezing it from either side as you slide your cock up and down. So focused, eyes on your cock, then back to your face, studying your every reaction, waiting for that moment when you crack.

And it’s coming so soon, you’ve been teetering on the edge since Somi first walked in—fuck, on edge for thirty days—and now you’re hurtling towards the fall.

You’re not going to last, not when Somi’s got you like this. Her hands moving with you, her tits bouncing in time with your strokes. The cushioning of her breasts around you; this gentle, sweet, torturous pressure that has you grunting, has you smearing drops of yourself all over her chest.

“Fuck, you look so good between my tits. So hard. Doesn’t it feel right? Like this is where your cock fucking belongs. This is what my tits were made for. For you,” Somi’s whispering, stringing these words together like a spell. “You can go faster, baby, I won’t break. Just let go and use me like the slut I am.”

Pleading for it, so desperate for you. Sweet words, encouragement, filth, like a drug, pushing you close and closer to the brink.

Just obey, pump faster, fuck her tits quicker, watch as your cock slices through her cleavage, the gloss it leaves over her skin. See Somi, licking her lips, devouring you with her eyes, just waiting for you to join her on the other side of oblivion.

“Cum for me, baby. Please, please. I need it—I need to feel it—please!”

Her tongue stretches past her lips, flicking out to catch the tip of your cock, making you groan. Leaning in, breath hot on you, cock hitting her lips with every thrust, every drive through her tits. So fucking greedy, so eager to taste, so needy to be the one responsible for your total ruin.

“Oh, oh, oh, baby—yes—yes—yes—yes—”

She pinches her nipples, twists them just right, moans—

You feel it immediately—your balls tighten, your cock swells, and then—release.

Intense is the only way to describe it.

So fucking intense.

White hot jets of cum spurt out, firing everywhere, making a mess of her, coating her chest, her neck, her chin, her lips, her nose—splashing down all over her.

It’s a frenzy, a natural disaster, a hurricane that’s been building for one long fucking month, and now it’s here.

The way her eyes widen, the way her mouth opens, gasping for air, the way she shakes—she wanted this, but there’s no fucking way she was prepared for it.

And when you back up, she dives forward, hand seizing the base of your cock and pumps. Wrists twisting in this aching motion, winding up and down your cock, wringing you out until you’re just a slave to her fingers, her tits, her touch.

“Keep going, baby, keep cumming for me, give me everything,” she begs, sending shivers all the way from your shaft down to your spine as she works your cock.

You do, you have no choice, no say in the matter. You give her everything.

You're coming apart, torn from your own body in sticky, hot waves that leaves you absolutely breathless.

And she’s a fucking mess. All of her—her face, her neck, her tits. So beautiful covered in you. So utterly used. So utterly yours.

It takes a moment for the tremors to stop, for the world to come back into the focus. You sit there, panting, feeling like you’ve just done a triathlon and then climbed a mountain. Somi’s just smiling at you, looking at you through her lashes, glued together with your cum, her own little giggles escaping every now and again.

She looks like a dream.

“Fuck, Somi—”

“Mm?” She looks so content, so at peace with the universe. Wearing your cum like fine jewellery. As if she’s the one that just had the best orgasm of her life.

“You’re—” But what the fuck do you say? That she’s ruined you? That she’s shattered your world? That you’ll never be able to look at a camera again without thinking of her?

Ah.

That’s what you’ll do.

You lean down, pick the camera off the floor, and then—snap.

Somi, looking so sloppy and obscene. Looking like everything you never knew you needed. Looking like she belongs to you.

She wipes away at her eyes, collects the cum on her finger, before dipping it into her mouth. Sucking, tasting the flavour of your need.

“Get the shot you wanted?”

You let out a long, heavy exhale, sliding off the couch, off her, sitting on the floor next to her. Resting your head on her thighs while Somi just lies there, sprawled out, utterly wrecked.

“You weren’t kidding,” she says. “One whole month.”

You remember to inhale. “Thirty days.”

She’s fighting a losing battle, cleaning the endless fountain of cum you’ve covered her with. Looking like she just streaked through a fucking snowstorm.

But she tries, collects as much as she can, smearing it into a sticky mess. Playing with it on her fingers, rolling it around her tongue, enjoying this way too much.

You raise the camera, aim it at her. The way she’s looking at you, the way her hand moves, so fucking casual—like it's her natural state of being. Making you believe that Somi should be covered in cum, all the time. It's only right.

You just can’t help yourself. You click.

“I haven’t been fucked like that since,” Somi starts, clearly not minding being the subject of your post-coital art. “Since ever. That was—"

“A trainwreck,” you’re saying, and then finishing when you catch the look on her face, “Not like that. It was insane. Intense. Really, thirty days or not, it was fucking life changing.”

Somi smiles. “Good to know I didn’t disappoint.”

“Just. These photos. Completely unsalvageable. None of that can be sent to your agency.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Somi says, so easily, so carefree, as if she didn’t just obliterate every single professional boundary you’ve ever set. “Let me have a look. There must be some photos at the start that are useable. From before you… lost focus.”

You pass her the camera, let her scroll through the shots, see all the pornographic filth the two of you have created. She flicks through, each click another photo, another reminder of what you’ve done, what she’s done to you.

And she’s enjoying it. These little smirks, the nods of approval. Fascinated by these photos of her, of her body in these stages of ecstasy.

“Ah, yup. No. Nope. Definitely not. Oh, and that one is just… yeah.” Somi’s voice is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of awe in it. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“It’s what you do to me.”

“I can see that,” she says, continuing until she gets to the last of the photos. “That’s pretty fucked. These are pretty fucked up. But, like. Beautifully fucked up.”

“Thanks,” you say, throwing your hands up, letting one fall on Somi’s thigh. It rests there, draws a circle over the smooth warm, skin.

It’s a good feeling. Having her here, like this. So relaxed, so comfortable. Knowing her in the most intimate ways possible, yet still not knowing much about her at all.

She sighs when your hand moves higher. You throb.

Yeah. After thirty days, only one time is not going to be nearly enough.

You already want to dive back into the land of debauchery with Somi, bring up more of those repressed fantasies you’ve been waiting to realise, even though you’re still knee-deep in the aftermath of the first round.

It’s in Somi’s eyes as well, you can feel it in the air, from the heat radiating off her skin—she's not done with you either.

Far from it.

You're going to ruin her again. You're certain of it.

“So,” she says, making a show of cupping her tits, raising them up to her mouth. Licking them clean.

Your response is swift. Immediate. “We’re going to have to reschedule.”

Somi’s laughter is pure gold. “How does thirty days from now sound?”

You blink. Stare at her, unamused.

She raises your camera.

Snap!

[traveler-at-heart]

Sharing is caring

Summary: Natasha doesn't like to share.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Thank you to @jujuu23 for reading this before I posted :)

Natasha wanted to have a good day.

But then recruits were stupid, Steve was being annoying about paperwork. And now, this.

Her favorite mug. Gone.

“Did you do this?” is the first thing she says to Sam as he enters the kitchen.

“No, I like the idea of keeping all my fingers”

And precisely then, you walk in.

Newest addition to the team, top of your SHIELD class, expert in weapons, languages and the most delicious desserts. Steve had to enforce a rigurous meal plan when even Bucky gained a good five pounds.

Natasha likes your easy smile, beautiful eyes, and those full lips that can be both alluring and mysterious.

That perfect mouth that is now sipping from none other than Natasha’s mug.

Sam crosses his arms, expecting the Russian to say something. But she stays glued to her spot.

As you enter the room, you feel two sets of eyes on you. The attention makes you falter, but you push through. There’s no place for shyness when you’re an Avenger.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Real nice” Sam says, and you nod, considering if it’s a good idea to address Natasha directly. You still haven’t quiet figured her out. 

“Do I have something on my face? You’re staring”

“No” Natasha rushes to say, before Sam can tell you that you’re holding her mug, the one that made her rip Barnes’ arm off when she saw him using it.  

“You sure? Dirt? Chocolate?”

“Your face is perfect” she hurries to say, and Sam has to cough to hide his laughter 

“Smooth, Romanoff”

“Ok, then. I made coffee and added a little nutmeg. Wanna try it?”

You offer her your mug and she takes it, smiling. 

“This is really good!”

“Finish it. I have to train. I don’t mind sharing” you wink at her, and Natasha has to keep from smiling. She doesn’t like new people knowing she can go soft.

“Can I have some?” Sam steps in.

“No” Natasha cuts him off and you laugh, waving goodbye. 

—

Heroes can save the day, but forget to bring out an extra chair when doing mission debriefings. 

This is the first time the entire team has been on a mission together since you joined, and now the conference room is crowded. There’s no place to sit, except for a small sofa in the back of the room.

That’s where Natasha usually sits, because it gives her a view of everyone. She can read their expressions, guess what they think, take that information to asses what needs to be refined in their team dynamic. 

Right now, though, she’s one of the last people in. The minute she looks at her spot, she sees you, leaning against the sofa, your hand discreetly holding your side.

“Rookie, you’re in Red’s spot” Tony says, walkign right after Natasha. 

She shoots him a murderous glare, but all you do is laugh, trying to stand up without anyone noticing you’re injured.

But Natasha notices.

“We can both sit here” she rushes to say, and you nod, knowing your voice would be strained if you thanked her out loud.

Mission debriefing goes by in a blur, your breathing heavy. 

Natasha is ready to tell Steve to can it, but Tony steps in, and everyone leaves the room.

Everyone except you. 

Natasha can’t leave either, worried about your condition.

“It’s nothing major” you say, knowing why she’s still sitting next to you.

“What is?” she tries to play dumb, but that makes you laugh. You wince after a second, though. “You should go to the Medbay”

“Cracked ribs, that’s all. The doctors won’t be able to fix that either way” you smile at her, but make no effort to move. Natasha stays put too, and you know she’s patient enough to wait it out. “Fine. I’m going”

You expect Natasha to leave for her room once you promise to get checked out. But instead, she follows you.

“Just in case you need something”

The doctors confirm what you already know. Rest, painkillers, no training for a couple of days. What you had missed were a couple of cuts, since you didn’t even change out of your suit until now. A nurse cleans them up and patches you up, but you’re left in nothing but a tank top and your tactical pants. 

Why is the Medbay so damn cold?

When you open the door, Natasha is already waiting, a hoodie in her hands.

“I’ve told them to fix the damn AC a thousand times” is all she says, and you smile, grateful. You struggle when you have to slide the hoodie down your body, and Natasha’s hands are quick to pull the fabric down gently.

“Thank you, Nat”

“Come on, you need your rest” 

Walking back to the living quarters, you can’t help but wonder if she’s being nice out of pity or something else. Whatever it is, you just hope she doesn’t see you as the rookie that screws up during their first group mission.

“You know where to find me, if you need anything” 

You nod, waiting until she walks into her own room to get inside.

The first thing you do in the privacy of your room is enjoy the fact her hoodie is soft, and smells just like Natasha.

You might not give it back to her.

—

Tony’s idea of a party is shut down the next morning. You can guess that Steve is aware of your injuries, as the doctors are required to submit a report.

Still, Stark insists on some team bonding activity and by a miracle, Natasha gets him to agree to movie night.

That’s how you end up in the entertainment room. There’s popcorn, soda, pizza and chocolate. 

Once again, and unbenknowst to you, you end up sitting on the couch Natasha takes up for herself.

“Hey” she walks up to you, vaguely aware that the rest of the team is waiting to see if Natasha asks you to move. “Mind if we share?”

“Not at all!” you say, moving to the side so she can sit. It’s hard to pretend you’re not excited about Natasha’s request. 

Considering she’s always keeping her distance, sharing the couch during movie night seems like a big deal.

“Everyone settled?” Tony asks, his gaze lingering on you two. Natasha glares, so he turns around and starts the movie.

After a couple of minutes, you reach forward to open the pack of M&M’s that no one seems to want. You can’t help the laugh when Natasha reaches for them at the same time.

“We can share these too” you say, handing them to her.

Natasha is trying to pay attention to the movie, but you’re shifting in the couch, sometimes your knee brushing against hers. 

“You’re not eating the green ones” she notices, leaning close to you to not interrupt the movie.

“Oh, shit” you laugh, somehow sensing that Natasha wants to know why. “My brother and I would agree to leave those for last, and then split them. Stupid”

“Wouldn’t want to mess with tradition” she says, separating them. You watch her, holding back a smile.

—

“Y/N’s all packed up and ready to go, right?” Steve says, reading over a file. 

“Yeah, she walked by like five minutes ago. Medics gave clearance” Sam says. “It’s just a recon mission, either way”

They’re going back to reviewing the team’s schedule when Natasha sprints past them.

“Yo, what’s going on?” Sam says, hoping there’s no threat to deal with. Steve is about to walk out as well, when he hears Natasha’s words.

“I’m going with Y/N! How could you be so irresponsible to send her away when she just recovered?”

Captain Rogers decides to hide behind the door, Natasha’s anger making him feel small.

“Alright, have a good one” Sam gives her a thumb up, and the redhead just rolls her eyes. He sighs, going back inside.

Steve stays silent for a second.

“The safe house only has one bed” he says, considering if it’s worth telling Natasha that. "Should we tell her?"

“No, thank you”

—

Recon missions suck. 

There, you said it. Unfortunately, those are the most frequent ones for you, as the newest member of the team and being practically unknown to the general population.

You’re walking to your car, hoping the mission can be done quickly. It’s a day and a half and being alone makes it specially boring. As soon as you open the driver’s door, you find Natasha sitting, smiling up at you.

“Jeez! What are you doing here?”

“Backup. Cap asked me to come last minute” 

“Oh” you get quiet, nodding.

Natasha tries to stay neutral when she notices how your face falls. Did she read into the situation? A part of her thought you liked being around her.

Either way, she can’t back out now. Once you’re settled in the car, Natasha drives out of the Compound, to the small office you’re meant to infiltrate.

“Is… did…?” you mumble a couple of times. Natasha keeps a poker face, waiting for you to speak again. With a sigh, you finally let it out. “Did Steve send you to babysit me? He thinks I screwed up because I got injured, doesn’t he?”

“No, it’s nothing like that” Natasha says, mentally kicking herself for rushing to join you. She didn’t even consider your feelings, too eager to spend time together. “I just didn’t like the idea of you going alone”

“Oh” you say again, this time blushing. Natasha can sense something shifts from your tone alone, so she turns to look at you. Your eyes meet hers and you smile. “Yeah, I was actually thinking how boring it was going to be. So, I’m glad you tagged along” 

“I’m glad too” she says, trying not to smile.

“Let’s see if you keep saying that after I put on my roadtrip playlist”

“Bring it”

Natasha tries to enjoy the songs, though she’ll never tell you that pop music isn’t really her thing. What she does enjoy are the gummies you offer. In your words, road snacks are key to the trip.

As you park close to the safe house, you leave your bag in the living room and then go down to around the corner, checking you have everything you need in your jacket pockets. 

“Wanna go over the plan?” Natasha says, trying to keep calm. It’s just a recon mission. You’ll be fine.

“Bug the conference room for the meeting happening tomorrow. Hack into Russo’s computer and download everything. In and out, easy peasy” 

Natasha nods, and you wink at her.

“If I finish in under 10 minutes you buy me dinner”

“Deal” Natasha says, and she wishes she could tell you she’ll buy you dinner no matter what happens.

You finally go, walking up to the building, strolling casually. As you’re about to reach the doors, a man leaves the office and you snatch his ID to get past the gates.

That’s the easy part. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of people in the hallways still, and the office you’re supposed to infiltrate is at the end of the long corridor.

The conference room should be close to the elevator, so you decide to take a look around. As you approach, you hear voices inside.

It will be difficult to bug a room with other people in it.

Looking around, aware that you’ll be suspicious if you just stand there, you think of a way out.

And then you spot the distraction you need.

Well, whatever it takes to get the mission done.

—

Natasha finds a cafeteria that is across the office, and she gets to sit by the window, looking out as you skilfully snatch the ID from someone who’s leaving.

Standard time for a mission like that should be under fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, the man whose ID you stole is coming back exactly five minutes later. 

Natasha’s not sure if he forgot something, or if he noticed he was missing his ID and decided to return for it. The fact of the matter is that if someone notices you used it to get inside, you’ll be in trouble.

She suddenly wishes you had a comm with you so she could help out. Hell, if the man keeps talking to security, Natasha will find a way to make a scene and distract them long enough to get you out.

Just as she’s about to stand up, one of the cleaning staff walks out and hands over the ID. Did you notice what happened and dropped it? Were you still inside? You didn’t need the ID to exit the building, but still.

The man takes his ID, and walks back inside. 

It’s been nine minutes. Natasha will give you five more before she intervenes.

She’s so focused on looking out the window that she misses the moment you step inside the restaurant, and sit in front of her.

“What…? “ the redhead does a doble take, and you take great pride in that.

“Janitor’s closet, grabbed one of their uniforms. Nobody questions cleaning staff”

You pass her the USB, smiling at her shocked expression.

“And you gave him back his ID, as if you weren’t the one who took it”

“All under ten minutes. You know what that means?”

“Of course. Let’s check the menu” Natasha says, smiling at you.

After ordering a couple of cheeseburgers, you read over the desserts.

“We could share a brownie” you say, holding back a smile. You’ve noticed Natasha has a sweet tooth, and is less than inclined to share her food, especially if it’s a dessert.

“Sure” she says after a beat, and you clear your throat, speaking after the waitress leaves.

“You know, I can handle rejection”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the youngest of three. I’m used to people telling me to leave their things alone” you say, smiling at her. “If I’m bothering you…”

“I don’t mind sharing” she cuts you off, her shoulders tense. It’s a bit uncomfortable for her to be vulnerable like this. “Not when I’m sharing with you” 

“Oh” you blush, biting your lip. The way her words affect you make Natasha regain some of her confidence. 

“How come you didn’t want to do a recon?”

“I don’t know. I like group missions. Or at least going with someone else. Like I said, I have siblings and I guess being around the team makes me feel like at home”

“Well, I like them because I can take a break from everyone. But that’s just because I’ve been dealing with those boys for years now” she laughs.

“Yeah, I get it. It can feel like a frat house sometimes. Let’s have girls night, no boys allowed” you joke, but perk up a second later. “Wait! That actually sounds fun. Oh my Gosh, we could go to the movies, or a museum, or dinner…”

“Sounds like a date to me” Natasha interrupts your rambling, pleased when you play with your hands.

“Yeah. That could be a date” 

Once the food arrives, you eat and chat. Natasha does agree to sharing dessert, which makes your heart melt a little at the gesture.

The last part of the mission is supposed to happen tomorrow, when a couple of shady businessmen meet at the building you infiltrated. All you have to do is sit and take pictures of whoever walks in, so intelligence can run background checks.

After dinner, you head back to the small apartment. For the first time since you arrived, you walk past the entrance to check the space.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asks when you come back, fiddling with your hands.

“There’s only one bed”

“Oh”

“You can totally take it, the couch looks fine…”

“No, you’re still recovering, I’ll sleep on the couch”

Natasha and you speak over the other for a few minutes until your voices die down and you stare at each other.

“We could share?” you suggest.

“Ok” Natasha nods, trying to pretend it’s not a big deal.

But when you change into an oversized t-shirt (no shorts because you truly thought you’d be alone here), and lie down in the small bed, your heart is practically beating out of your chest. 

“You ok?” Natasha says, trying not to move.

You give up with a sigh, turning on your side and moving closer, until you’re inches apart.

“Just need to sleep on my side. And I usually hug a pillow. Don’t ask me why, I just do”

“Well… here” Natasha moves even closer, taking your arm. She places it around her waist, and pulls you closer. Your breath hitches for a second, but Natasha smiles reassuringly. “Is this better?”

“Yes”

As a matter of fact, it’s the best sleep either one of you has gotten in years.

—

You’re not in the mood for parties.

But that’s never stopped Tony before.

After waking up cuddling Natasha, (and barely completing the mission because you didn’t want to leave bed) you were eager to ask her out, or have her ask you out. Whichever was fine by you.

But as soon as you parked the car, Cap was waiting with a frown and a big file.

“We leave in an hour” he said, only to Natasha.

Apparently, this was going to be a very demanding mission, and Cap didn’t want you pushing yourself.

So, Natasha, Sam and Steve had been gone for a few days now.

Tony was mildly disappointed, but this was Pepper’s birthday party and he wasn’t about to call it off for a few working Avengers.

Still, you try to cheer up and put on a good face, mainly for Pepper. You’re not sure she really wanted this big of a party, but she seems happy enough.

Most of the people attending are from Stark Industries, so you try to blend in and speak to some of them.

“Hey, do you work in legal?” a young blonde asks when you go get another drink.

“Oh, no, definitely not”

“Thought I knew you. I’m in HR”

“Fun” you say, but the tone you use makes her laugh. Before you can do anything, she changes seats and moves closer to you.

“I’m Sasha”

Reluctantly, you give your name. Even after the bartender hands over another glass of Chardonnay, Sasha keeps talking to you, though she doesn’t really care if you work at Stark Industries or not. After your third glass of wine, you begin to relax, and say a couple of jokes that make her laugh a little too loud.

She’s definitely flirting.

“Wanna take this conversation somewhere else?” she asks and you look around.

“I think I need some air…”

“We could…”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because Natasha is by your side in an instant. Little drops of water wet your shoulder as she approaches you, having rushed from the shower to see you.

“Hey, detka. Having fun without me?”

“You’re home!” you shout, excited at seeing her again.

“I am. Come on, let’s go to the balcony” she says, taking your hand. You’re halfway there when you remember Sasha, and try to turn back to say goodbye.

“I don’t want to be rude”

“And I said I like to share with you, not share you” 

“Oh” you blush at that, and stay silent as Natasha drags you out of the party. 

“Was that too much?” she asks when you finally get to the balcony.

“No. I just drank too fast and I’m happy to see you” you say, your hands going around her shoulders. 

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, Natasha holds your waist and pulls you closer to her.

“I’m happy to see you too” she leans her forehead against yours. “And about that date…”

“Yeah, I’m up for it” you confirm with a nod. Your faces are inches apart, and Natasha  can tell you’re sneaking small glances at her lips.

“As for other stuff…” 

“Mhm” you hum, aware that she’s leaning forward. You let her lips meet yours, and the kiss is short but tender. “Will this date have more of these?”

“Hell, yeah” she nods, making you laugh.

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Can’t wait” she nods, kissing you again.

Unfortunately, you’re interrupted by Sam, who is sporting a shit eating grin.

“Anything you two wanna share with the team?”

“No” you answer at the same time.

Some things, are meant to stay between you two. 

[saintshadow]

How can you sustainably & realistically glow up?

Hello lovelies! I wanted to focus today’s reading on self care & nurturing, over here we are ALL about wholeness, healing, & authenticity. So I wanted to give channeled messages to all of you regarding this particular niche. This advice is meant to be flexible and manageable, growth happens and increments and I want you all to be patient with your growth.

pile i

You guys are observers, you may enjoy connecting and love people but just can’t seem to fit in. The problem is that you are focusing too much on trying to mirror and match. Your authenticity is calling, and it’s trying to claw its way out. Some of you may struggle with feeling like you’re in survival mode or have bad relationship trauma. This can be romantic, platonic, familial, etc! It’s giving TRUST ISSUES, y’all have beautiful minds and fiercely loving hearts. Your honesty will set you free, your authenticity will cleanse the pain away. Set boundaries and stand on them, you don’t need them- THEY NEED YOU. You can’t be a pushover forever, stand on your own two feet who cares about rejection. You will find people that accept you for who you are, people who are loving and compassionate who hold space for the contents of your mind & heart without turning it against you.

For some, it may be time to consider therapy and or medication. Health, quality of life- go outside more, exercise (you don’t have to make this stuff a chore, stagnance can be difficult to remove. Why don’t you start by opening the windows, sweeping and saying “by broom and air and with delight I remove this stagnance and make room for life” set your intentions, and what energies you want entering your space)

Make cleaning easier for yourself, find better organizational habits, you DONT need to be spic and span- but just have better general organization and be less harsh on yourself. Maintain your routines to the absolute best of your ability and don’t be afraid of messing up or losing track. It isn’t about being perfect it’s about quality of life

Recommendations: Journaling, music, spending time outside (even if ur on ur phone, it’s better than nothing), stretching and light exercise (u don’t have to lose weight, it’s not about societal standards it’s about loving who YOU are, taking care of your mind, body, heart, and soul)

Signs: seashells, Aphrodite, classical romantic art, drama tv shows & telenovelas, Dolores from encanto, stomach pains from anxiety, trouble sleeping, fear of loss & fear of connection, chronic illness (mental or physical)

Zodiac: Lilith in Capricorn, Sagittarius, and Scorpio, Gemini sun/moon/rising, Capricorn stellium, Uranus 6h, chiron 6h Chiron in Libra chiron in Scorpio Chiron in Sagittarius.

pile ii

In a loving way I’m about to beat ur ass fr omg

You need to be creating, stop avoiding your creativity it’s WHO YOU ARE. When you create unrealistic expectations of your creativity & try to cage yourself in you start to feel drained and tired. You can beat your exhaustion by just being you. There’s a message about teeth, taking care of your teeth, water flossing, going to a dentist, make an appointment asap! They’re still salvageable if you take action and put forth effort. For some a big chop could be in order, or at least a trim & some shaping. You are meant to be putting yourself out there, people actually REALLY admire your beauty and your harsh overly critical nature often blocks you from being satisfied with what you create and what you do. Give yourself the chance to just be. Stop creating stipulations for everything you make, if it flops who fucking cares. You guys don’t trust in your own ideas, and it’s because you block out a LOT. It feels like you struggle to connect with others and the world around you.

You can level up by caring less and investing more into your creative endeavors. You might get so restless and moody because you aren’t actually living in alignment with this part of yourself. You have an incredibly active mind that you’re not stimulating properly, when you’re gifted with such a mind it should be sharpened and exercised! Honed to your liking, the power is in you to make that choice.

Stand in your ideas, and get up and do something with them before they are given to others who will actually do the damn thing.

Recommendations: connect with nature, jot down your ideas, don’t shy away from self expression, dress how you really wanna dress, be bold, be brave, be unapologetically you.

Signs: blackbirds, crows, ravens, Lana del Rey, charmed, whimsy gothic/celestial aesthetic.

Zodiac: Aquarius, Leo, Capricorn, Aries midheaven/cancer rising, Saturn in Taurus ?, Uranus in Scorpio, mars sextile Venus

pile iii

It’s time to stop focusing on image and start focusing on tact, you may have to put your ego on the back burner for a bit but that’s okay. We all have to do it one time or another, you’re being called to re-examine your approach to life and the skills you’ve developed. Have more balance, and think more thoroughly and skillfully. Idk I feel like this pile is genuinely very impulsive and at times an active participant in incredibly foolish behavior. You spend a lot of time justifying your egotistical responses and knee jerk reactions- you can glow up by being more open minded to change. Changing your outlook, changing your approach, etc- perhaps sometimes you treat yourself like a one trick pony. Some of you could have also experienced bullying or othering in school. Feeling like the odd one out, you can glow up by confronting this wound and releasing it. The fixation on the wound is unhealthy & seemingly subconscious. You can also glow up by not reacting so strongly to everything- learn to not crash the fuck out every time you feel triggered. Or learn not to quietly implode every time you feel triggered, aim for flexibility and call in clarity in these moments it WILL be brought to you.

Hmmm pile 3, I’m not sure what’s going on for you my loves- but I see that in order to help further glow up that you would benefit from more privacy and alone time? Perhaps you have a validation seeking issue? I’m not saying all of you aren’t working on this btw! I’m sure some of you are, but I see where spending the foreseeable future in a state of solitude would be super duper beneficial for you. You need to rest and recuperate from something. Perhaps you feel burnt out trying to upkeep an image or upkeep a persona and you’re unable to keep up anymore. I feel like you guys need clarity, and unfortunately you’re only going to find that within right now. Perhaps some of you could even have some kind of obsessive thinking patterns- addiction to tarot or divination- you’re being told to relax. Lean into the healing, allow it to overtake you. You will come out of the other side, but when the darkness beckons. It is not always an invitation but an inevitable occurrence.

Signs: swans, lace & ribbons, ripped fishnets, beat up converse, a densely wooded area, tj maxx (lol??), Ayurveda, denim, cadavers.

Recommendations: thinking before you speak/act, being slow & methodical- not allowing people to push you over the edge but also knowing when to back down and reflect. Surrendering to the change so you don’t get dragged by the hair 😭

Zodiac: Sagittarius rising, cancer moon, black moon Lilith in Aquarius, north node in Libra, Aries moon and mercury, Saturn in the 12th house.

[whoreforsexymen]

Vander 🫗 | SMUT Headcanons

Pairings: Vander x Reader, Dom!Vander x Reader

Rating: NSFW!! 18+, MDNI ! You WILL be blocked.

Pronouns: She/Her + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Word Count: 898

Tags: DaddyDom!Vander, Spit play, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Crawling, Thigh Riding, Rough Sex, Dacryphilia, Size Difference, Etc.

Notes: Just some spicy Headcanons for our big, old, husky, bearded barman 🤍 as well as some for a darker version of our big teddy bear dad 🤍

- Vander is completely enchanted by your lips. Every chance he gets, especially when he cradles your face in his hands, he can’t resist the urge to brush his thumb over them, savoring their softness. It’s also no wonder how primal it makes him feel considering how your own natural instinct is to suck the skin of his thumb gently. Every. Single. Time.

- He can’t help but prod at them until you let him breach the surface. You’re always so hungry for a taste of him, no matter if it’s his cock or his fingers. Always so insatiable, and deeply unsatisfied until moments like these when you’re greedily swirling your tongue around his finger.

- He never wastes time in hooking his thumb into your mouth, toying with making you and your tongue slave to find it. The slickness of your saliva and the sounds that follow are nothing short of immaculate, a perfect blend of neediness and yearning that leave him desperately smitten.

- The way you whimper, and the way your thighs grind together to ease the tension and aching in your clit drives him to the brink—the sounds unraveling him, each one igniting the flames of his own aches.

- He wants nothing more than to switch his fingers out for his cock— but unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to hear you as well. His fingers are slim enough to let the noise pass over them, but his cock would be a different story.

- Vander is a gentle lover by nature, but— like any part of nature, he has his more unpredictable moments. His ‘natural disasters’ or sorts. Though—you wouldn’t necessarily call them ‘disasters’.

- Just as easily as it is for him to spend hours tenderly ramming his cock into you, during more ferocious, needy moments, he’ll waste no time in fucking you senseless. Despite it mainly happening every blue moon, he knew when you needed it like this, and he knew that you’d be willing to take it on the days he needed it like this.

- You both have happily accepted that he’s a man with a wild side to be nurtured every now and then. And you’re so good at nurturing it for him. When laying in bed, he’s started fucking you from behind, quickly losing his patience for tenderness. He’s sat upright against the headboard, and pulled you on top of him, all without ever disconnecting from you for even a moment.

- With your back pressed to his chest, he cups under your knees, almost folding you in half from the way he gripped and pulled them back- as he started slamming his hips at a merciless pace. The angle had you practically foaming at the mouth, considering—with his given strength—he uses minimal effort to bounce you up and down to meet the way he was snapping his hips up into you. The way your ass bounced on his legs is a sight that constantly makes his dick twitch when he thinks back to it.

- The screams you could never bother to try stifling almost kept him up at night sometimes. Too many times have the recollections made him overfill a pint or two behind the bar counter, earning questioning glances from bar patrons. He can’t always help the way his mind wanders when he has you to ravish every night.

- Vander often says things like:

“C’mon Angel— Look at me while you suck my cock dry. I wanna see those pretty little eyes of yours.”

“That’s it— Attagirl. Atta-fuckin’-girl.”

Dom!Vander HC’s

- Will make you kneel on the ground, mouth wide open, pussy dripping, and leave you like that. He’d tell you that you weren’t allowed to swallow your spit. He’d then pull up a chair and sit in front of you, despicably far, and just watch you. He’d wait until your shirt became transparent from how much drool had fallen on it. Then—only then, would he speak.

- “Crawl…” he commands.

- You obey. You crawl to him, almost desperately quick, until you stop at his boots. He’d be tempted to make you grind on them, but he prefers his thighs for that.

- You crawl onto him, straddling one of his massive thighs.

- Just a few minutes into him making you grind yourself down on it, his blue jeans are just as soaked as your shirt.

- “Attagirl.” He’d coo as he’d start guiding your hips for you with his hands. It’s your fault if you think he’s going to let you cum anytime soon, though.

- When he halts all movement once you’re practically falling off the edge of your orgasm, he’d tut at you when you keep trying to desperately find the friction again.

- “Don’t you fight me.” He’d snap as you greedily tried to chase your orgasm, thrashing your hips around against his grip.

- He’d pull your hair and make you look at him, his other hand holding your jaw with contempt.

- Denial was his virtue. He won’t let you cum until you’re crying and begging for mercy.

- “Cry for me, Angel.” He’d command, needing to see the tears in your eyes while you begged for release.

- When you’d get too embarrassed to do so, he’d grip your face tighter.

- “Let. Me. Hear. You.” So you do. You let it out.

- And then—only then, will he slip his thick fingers in you.

- “Excellent. Such a good girl. Now. Get yourself off on daddy’s fingers, yeah?” He’d purr.