#ANOTHER ONE GOIN INTO MY COLLECTION >:]

[hoshigray]

˙⋆✮ FIRST PERSON SQUIRTER.ᐣ.ᐟ ✮⋆˙ | jjk men

꩜ᯅ꩜ choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna & toji × how they deal with a squirter!?

contents: JJK men x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size differences (true form! kuna) - kissing/making out - thigh-riding - [anal] fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - sqůirtǐng (ofc) - facesitting - Daddy kink - 69 + doggy style + full nelson positions - overstimulation - clitoral play (grinding + swiping + pinching) - praising - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, baby, cutiepie, good girl, little thing, etc.) - degradation + humiliation - mention of blood and drool/spit.

word count: 5.3k

a. note: goin on a trip next week, so i leave y'all with this until the next one ☆ enjoy !!

ᯓ꩜ Chōsō Kamo

You giggled. “You ready, baby?”

He smiles back. “Bring it on, sweetheart.”

Having a partner willing to try new things with you is undoubtedly a blessing. Wouldn’t you want to try anything and everything with your partner—learning new things and sharing experiences with the person you love and cherish the most in this globe? 

It adds to your trust in one another – an exchange enhances the companionship…even if it’s in the bedroom!

“Okay, Choso, get ready.”

Your boyfriend nods from below you, watching from between your thighs as you descend your lower half where his face is, and the two of you moan once the lips of your labia land on his awaiting tongue.

This was all your idea, by the way: you’re the one who pulled on Choso’s shirt as you two watched the television from his bed, his caramel eyes drifting to you after grabbing his attention. It was difficult to ask at first, stumbling with your words as this embarrassing request isn’t something you make regularly. Once you got your words out, it wasn’t surprising to see your boyfriend a little flustered as you were. 

However, that didn’t stop him from accepting it – albeit bashfully – confidently, igniting a colossal quirk of happiness to affect the glow of his bedroom. So, here you two are, putting this new experience to the test. 

“Mmmm, oh God,” you purr with chewed lips, fighting the urge to swing your hips as Choso mouths you. 

Choso has his hips on your waist to keep you steady as he does his work, using his lips and tongue to please you in this new position. His tongue swims around your inner labia, the folds coated with your wetness mixed with his saliva. You exhale through your nostrils, your thighs sluggishly move to have your man attend to the surface, and you mewl at the flick of your clitoris. Oh shiiit…!

Having you on top of him like this was not something the brunet expected, thinking this would be a lazy day to hang out with his cute companion on this slow Friday. However, to have easy access to taste your fluids within his vicinity in this erotic position...he’s starting to like it a little too much. 

“Ohhh, my God, Choso,” you shrill with a gasp. “You’re so good…Feel so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He questions below your waist, poking your clit with his tongue. “You like riding my face?” 

He can’t see it, but you nod impetuously. “Yessss! Yees—Shhaaah! Fuck, your tongue…!” You lick your lips and bite as you bring your waist lower, his nose bumping on your clit. “More, give me moreee…!”

“Heh, sure thing,” he titters at your enthusiasm as his hands curl to your buttocks, bringing you further down to his level. You whimper as he sucks on your vulva with purpose, lapping his tongue around to tease your entrance before he pushes it in. Here is where Choso changes the atmosphere, fucking you with his tongue and collecting more of your essence to drink. All you can do is wail and swing your hips faster, and your boyfriend quickly catches the rhythm. Shit, tastes so good…!

“Uhhgg, feels so fucking good—Mmmaa!” Holy hell, this was too much! There’s so much going on underneath you outside your control, only having the command of your waist to influence. Your thighs jiggle as you resort to bouncing on your boyfriend’s face, and your hands ball on the comforter the two of you lay on. 

Choso’s tongue goes frantic, wiggling the wet muscle around your insides and pulling you in to sink more into your overwhelming taste and smell. The more you bounce on his face, the more his nose hits your clitoris, your bud sending shocks up to your head to enlighten the exhilaration! Faster and faster you go, the same for the tongue lapping all over your vulva and sucking on you purposely. 

“Choso..!! Cho—shiiiit—Chosooo!!” You cry out with trenched brows and closed eyes, electric shocks spiraling all over your body with all the growing pressure. 

Your body then gives in, and you let your essence out of your system. Your fluids shower all over Choso’s face as you come on his tongue; your boyfriend is not swayed by the liquid hitting his face, just focused on slurping your wetness covering your cunt. Quivers force your thighs to jolt, jerking your whole frame as you let the waves of your orgasm hit until everything relaxes.

And when it does, you sigh heavily and lift your ass. Choso watches the sight before him, his spit blended with your come all within your inner thighs. The heat from his face spreads to his ears — oh, he hopes he doesn’t get addicted to this.

“Oh my God, Choso,” your boyfriend snaps to your call. “Your face, it’s all wet!”

“Hm? Oh!” It takes a second to realize that he is utterly drenched with your satisfaction, scoffing with a smile. “Guess we both got a bit too excited.”

You chuckle as you leave to grab a hand towel from his bathroom. “I’m sorry about that!”

“It’s okay,” Choso takes off his shirt, which was damp on his collar, and accepts the towel you give him. “As long as you’re feeling good up there, I don’t mind drowning a bit for you, sweetie.”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re not funny.”

ᯓ꩜ Nanami Kento

Nothing puts the cherry on top of a hard day at work for Nanami than coming home and being pulled into your arms.

“Nnnmm, Kento, you feel so good…”

…And loving on him more affectionately.

You practically dragged your man into the living room, peppering him with smooches in your glee that he had returned home safe and sound, and he chortles as you beckon him to sit on the couch with you. The two of you winding down while watching the television, Nanami relaxing with a nice cold beer and taking off his necktie and blazer.

However, he’s unaware of you glimpsing through your peripheral, looking intently, sliding his tie off his collar and unbuttoning his shirt. You notice the sneak of his exposed collarbone, drifting your gaze to something else only for it to land on his pants. Lips flatten at the sight of his thighs; his hand patting on it makes you stare longer than intended, swallowing thickly to quench a dry throat. 

He was taking a swig of his beer, watching the motion of his Adam’s apple with intent. Your fingers fiddling with the bottom of your sundress can’t jurisdiction your thoughts anymore, wanton desires stacking up and soon to fall like dominoes. 

And when it does fall, you silently stand and walk in front of Nanami, the blonde noticing you come around to obstruct his view of the TV. “My love?” You don’t answer. “Something’s wrong?” No words yet…but you lift your dress, mocha eyes pinpointing to the cute design of your cotton thong. “Sweetheart…” you move to sit again, but not back on the couch—nope—instead, his pant-clad thigh, straddling the firm muscles, and your arms come around to cup his cheeks.

“Kento,” you finally speak, whispering for only his words to pick up. “I missed you.”

If there was one thing that could pull Nanami’s heartstrings, it was you – his pretty wife. So, when you express your love for him, of course, he has to reciprocate tenfold.

“Ooooo, yesss, Ken…please, go faster…Mmmph.”

You stay atop Nanami’s thigh, grinding your labia on his pants to the point that a damp spot is prominent in the tan color. The blonde doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he’s the one who slid your thong for his fore and middle finger to swipe on your clitoris. The touch is pleasant, fueling your waist to keep moving. With your back to his chest, he kisses you passionately from behind. Your sweet tongue meets his, influenced by the taste of alcohol, a strange combination that surprisingly gets the kiss steamier. 

Nanami chews on your bottom lip, having you whimper so sublimely that shivers crawl his spine, sucking on your tongue as your hips go faster. Jesus Christ, the friction from grinding on the material of his pants feels so good, nestling in between your folds nicely and faintly bumping on your clit. However, that is for your husband’s fingers, tweaking the bud you perk to your tippy toes. Hahhh, so good!

“Mmmm, shit,” the golden-haired man curses under his breath before taking your lips into his again. “Come here, angel.” He slams his lips to yours, and you don’t plan to leave his taste as you throw your head back. One arm lifts your legs by the knees, the free hand having more access for him to stick his middle finger into your wetness.

You moan into his mouth, allowing your husband to please you with his fingers rubbing your inner texture. It starts slow until he adds the ring finger, dialing the pace for his fingertips to scratch onto places you could never reach. A hand finds his hair, his neat locks now getting disheveled because of you. 

“Puhaah, ohhh, shit!” You shrill with puffy lips while Nanami kisses your cheek and chin, all the while his digits are brushing up on the upper wall of your vagina — you almost lose balance. “I’m close…!”

The magic words let Nanami know to keep doing what he’s doing, sucking the skin of your neck while shoving his fingers until his very knuckles. The clamp of your walls is sensational, addicting to the point that he doesn’t want to get his digits out yet — not until your high comes to an end.

And that doesn’t sound impossible; you scream as if you don’t have neighbors between your apartment, a watery liquid ejecting out of your glands and showering all around. Sprinkles of your clear juices hit the palm of Nanami’s hand and thigh, adding more stains to his pants to worry about.

 Your heaving body slowly relaxes as your orgasm rattles your bones, Nanami laying more pecs on your beautiful skin as he permits your quaking legs to touch the floor again. Yet, you jerk when your toes feel something wet, snapping out of your daze and realizing what a show you made.

“O-Oh, my—“ you try to stand, but Nanami’s quick to catch you as your body is still under the shocks of your crescendo. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Kento, I messed up your work clothes.”

“No worries, I need to do laundry tomorrow anyway.” The blonde chuckles to your ear and kisses you again, massaging your waist. 

“In that case…would you mind if I dirty your clothes some more?” Your butt presses up on the tent of his groin — which has been getting firmer and firmer once the man stuffed his fingers in you. “I’m sure you’d get some fun out of it.”

He raises a sandy brow with a smile. “Would I, or would you, since you’re the one who came onto me?”

“…A bit of both.” You both share a laugh as Nanami carries you bridally to the bedroom.

“Then I don’t mind at all.”

ᯓ꩜ Gojō Satoru

“Mmmm, can never get over this view~.”

“Can you stop commenting about it?!”

“Whaaat? I can’t say I admire my cutie’s beautiful ass in front of me?”

“You’re so annoying…” you grumble as you sigh and begin to lick the tip of his cock.

It’s been a while since you and Gojo had a good 69 session. He is busy being the strongest sorcerer of the modern era and being a full-time teacher, and you go through your day-to-day life swarmed up with work and routine. Lack of time to spend together is an onerous task to execute outside of sleeping and snoring in your shared bed.

But alas, when you two are finally resting and enjoying each other’s company this weekend, it’s a no-brainer that you two will end up skin-to-skin action sometime today. 

You straddled atop Gojo, your ass facing him while his lower half was to your front, your hand stroking his length cock, following the curve up to the pink tippy top. The sight of precum starting to pool and spill over down your fingertips makes your cheeks hot, and the heat between your legs causes a twitch.

Gojo, however, grins before he kisses your labia, welcoming his tongue that invades the space between your folds. You moan as you stuff your mouth with his cockhead, treating him with peppered licks and sucks as you keep jerking him off. Fucking hell, his dick is just so lengthy, hitting the back of your throat with ease that you have to remind yourself to relax to not gag.

Lazy licks are dawned on your wet chasm, lapping from the clit up to the other end. He notices the subtle quakes of your thighs as he tongues you down and has him chuckle as he pushes his face into your frame more, his hands curling to cup your ass so he can fondle the flesh.

You mumble on his dick after he flicks your clit. “Mmmph…! Hmmmm…” Sucking on his shaft, you bob your head up and down to get accustomed to the limb. Climbing back up to the tip where you suck on it roughly with hallowed cheeks after drizzling it with saliva. 

“Oh shiiit,” the white-haired man’s head hits the headboard of his bed, moaning at the attention you’re giving his cock. “So good at this, angel,” he coos as his hands curl to the front to massage and lightly pat your asscheeks like drums. “Missed this.”

“Mmmm, mmmahh…!” The tip leaves your lips, and you’re quick to keep stroking him as you lick around his crown. “Fuck, so big…”

“Well, thank you, baby,” he knows you’re probably rolling your eyes at that comment, chortling to himself. “Means a lot hearing that from someone who keeps winking at me over here.”

“Pfft, you’re so gross,” you top his cockhead to the flat of your tongue, blowing on it to make your tall partner shiver under you. “So full of yourself.”

“Mmmm, maybe so,” you whine as Gojo blows and sucks on your inner labia. “But you can’t blame me for that, right?”

“What…ever,” your feet come around and pulls his face back to your ass. “Just shut up and use that tongue—since you’re so confident.”

“Heh, so pushy.” But the thing is, Gojo is confident – narcissistically so. You saying that only probed him to flip a switch, and you’re unfortunately on the receiving end of his wrath. 

Gojo’s tongue goes erratic, swishing around your vulva as if you can’t keep up with one lap after the other. Your waist goes to lift your ass away — fat chance, as his hands return behind your butt to keep you on him the entire time. The vibrations of his humorful laugh are felt in the very nerves of your folds.

You whimper aloud, the hand jerking his cock, straying off its rhythm as your body submits to the pleasure going around your lower half. He inserts his tongue into your opening, fucking your slit with pushes and pulls. He sucks your wetness with his mouth, and the hands placed on your ass grip on the flesh that has you standing on your very palms.

“—Khhh..! W-Wait, Satoruu, stop!” You cry, but the tall man only smacks your ass mischievously, having you clamping on his tongue without your conscience. “I-I said waaait!!” No signs of waiting as he stuffs his face further between your thighs; noises of him slurping your vulva sound so wrong!

Oh, my fucking God! Your legs tremble, a sign that you’re trying everything you can to alleviate. However, Gojo’s grip on you doesn’t make it an easy battle, latching onto you with vigor. No, wait, wait, stop i—“Ahaa—ahhhnn!!��

It’s no use; the fluid you release slips past your control, spraying out of the urethra and showering all over your thighs and Gojo’s lower jaw and neck. Your body yields, losing balance and slumping your whole body on top of your boyfriend as you come on his tongue and drizzle all around the space of your lower half. Shocks and quivers travel up your spine to your head to pound, leaving Gojo to keep lapping and swishing on your wet slit in victory. 

“Mmmm, aahhhshit, so good…!” He blinks with hooded eyes as he licks his lips and spits on your vagina to lick slowly. “Taste so good…”

“Hahhh, ahhh, I..I told you to,” you stand on your elbows and look behind. “To…wait, dummy!”

“You told me to shut and use my tongue!” He backfires, not relenting even after sending your half-lidded glare. You groan and turn back to suck on his pink tip in defeat. “Fuck, love it when you’re all wet like this…and lucky me for being in the splash zone as you—Oww!”

You smack on his nuts. “You’re so annoying!”

ᯓ꩜ Getō Suguru

“Suguruuu…! Don’t do th–Ahhht!”

“Ahhhh, you sound so cute, baby.”

Geto plows you from behind, watching you grip the armrest of the couch as your butt is propped up and your face buried to hide yourself…Quite a futile attempt, if he says so himself, but adorable nonetheless. 

Fucking in the living room wasn’t part of the daily routine today, yet here you two are. His hands grab hold of your waist as he conceals his girthy cock inside your tight cunt, stuffing every inch of him till the very hilt meets the lips of your outer lips. 

Your breath is shaky as Geto’s hips move to and fro, sighing at the sensation of your tensed walls around him. You always felt way too fucking good, biting his lip to fight the urge to let his waist fly and piston himself right into you. And he enjoys the way you act as he teases you, the position giving him ideas on how to torment you idly. 

Like now, as he skims a thumb around your asshole. The action of having you contract on him even more. “Nnnn! Nnooooh, don’t play with my ass…!”

“You sure? It’s been winking at me for a minute.” He chimes with a sly smile, licking his finger and switching his thumb to lather your hole with his saliva. Holy shit, the way you’re twitching around him is driving him nuts, as he hasn’t even put anything in yet. 

“Do-Don’t say it like that!” You peer over your shoulder with furrowed brows, meeting the purple eyes that catch you. His hips go excruciatingly slow, your vagina feeling like a void as he pulls for absence before fulling you back as he pushes. “It’s em…barrassin—Ghhhh!”

He pushes the thumb inside while you’re distracted, and both your holes pucker in haste. “Awww, don’t be like that, my love,” his mellow voice doesn’t match the crudeness of his actions, throwing unpredictable snaps of his hips to throw you off. “Nothing about your body is embarrassing….God, your ass looks so sexy from the back—“

Another twitch of your slit—God, you’re too fucking cute. “What are you—Don’t say stuff like that…!” Your flustered reaction didn’t make it any better as Geto pushed his thumb inside until the dent and knuckle, wiggling it inside and pushing and pulling to toy with your rear. Your teeth clench onto the couch pillow while he increases the cadence of his ruts. “Mmmmm, ohmyGod…Suguu, please—“

“Hmm, you want me to stop?” He asks and observes for a cue to stop what he’s doing. You don’t say anything, though, just your hips swaying. It makes Geto scoff, “I get the feeling you don’t want me to; look at you moving your hips on your own, pumpkin. Your body’s so honest for me.”

“Haaahh, you’re soo…mean, Sugu…”

“Only when I know it makes you feel good,” he moves his bangs out for a bit. “Which is why,” then Geto slithers that same hand down to where your chasm is linked to his wet cock, and his fingers go erratically fast on your clit. “I wanna tease this a bit, too.”

Eyes widen as you shriek at the touch, moaning aloud once he removes his thumb from your ass to keep your butt onto him as he jackhammers his cock into you. Your frame is propelled with every push, the pokes on of your cervix knock you out like the wind, and the hard rubs on your clit have you seeing stars.

“—Ohhooo, oh–hoooo!! Sug’ruuu, waaiitt!!” It’s useless; he doesn’t stop, and more hits to your womb have you wailing uncontrollably. The fingers on your clit don’t let you rest, having you unable to speak a proper sentence and resort to letting your boyfriend pound into you. A few more pinches have your legs jerking, and you can’t help but let the wave smash onto you.

As your orgasm claims over your body, you squirt out, liquids falling onto the couch beneath you, point blank. Your eyes are sewn shut as your slit flutters on Geto’s penis, your substance leaking out of your glans and dirtying your thighs and legs. Oh God, no!!

Geto hisses at the feeling of you spasming on him, tilting his head to see what you’ve done. “Oh my, would’ya look at that~.”

“Shooop, don’t loook…!!” A hand moves to the side to “try” and stop him, but he catches it with his palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t look at iiiit…”

“But you did so well!” Geto kisses your hand. “Maybe I should play with your ass more—“

“Suguru, stop!”

“Kidding~,” he was not.

ᯓ꩜ Ryōmen Sukuna

Sukuna relishes the feeling of you like this — your back to his front, your legs held up by his solid upper arms while the lower hands hold your buttocks, and your holes accommodating to his two girthy cocks — like the good pet you are. 

He entirely suspends you, your entire frame contorted for your arms to grip the futon sheets below. Sweat and warmth are exchanged by bare skin, the glow of the candles highlights the unioned figures within Sukuna’s quarters, and your anus and vagina are full of nothing but the two cocks stretching you and rubbing your insides.

Sukuna bucks his hips with might, and his every push makes you dizzy. Toes curl as your ass is pulled up and down to meet his hefty balls, his dicks venturing further to torture your insides with satisfaction. Your vision gets a bit hazy as the heat gets to your head, and your head begins to pound.

“What’s wrong, little thing,” your lips flatten to hinder the moan wanting to escape as he speaks behind you, feeling his breath brush the hairs of your back. “You’re silent this time around.”

“Haaaah, my Lord…” The tongue of his stomach licks your lower back with a lazy kiss. “Y-You’re…too biiig.”

He hits you with a sudden rut and purrs at the clench of your entrances. “You say that, yet your lewd body seems to accustom pretty well.” Another hit of his hips causes the tips of his cock to brush up against your sweet spots effortlessly, and you finally unclench your lips to let a wail escape. “Your body only good for taking cocks like a real good whore, huh?”

“I’m so—Mmmph…! S-Shooo fuuuull…” 

“No, you’re not,” he snickers as his lower left-hand sneaks around to cusp your clitoris, your precious pearl engulfed by the sheer thickness of his digits. “Not until I fill you with my seed like a sow in heat.”

The salmon-haired man picks up the pace to drill his cocks, churning your vagina and rear like toys. Your cries fly out quickly at the point, puffy lips losing ground to stay locked. Hands balled into fists as you’re threatened by the sheer mass of Sukuna, unable to fight out of this—forced to submit to him and his persistence.

Your slit and butt are so busy with his cocks, the length of your vagina grazing your G-spot by its underside, the walls fluttering involuntarily around him. The dick inside your butt feels so utterly good; the size of him is never something you can get fully habituated to. And the hand on your clit doesn’t stop playing with it, roughly pushing and grinding on it to the point of babbling and choking on spit. 

“—Hnnngh, fuck. So tight,” Sukuna licks your back and nibbles on your skin, teasing to tear your skin to taste just a hint of blood. “Feel so good…”

“Ahahhh, I caaan’t…!” Your eyes begin to water as you shut them close, lack of vision enhancing the sense of touch where it has your nerves overly stimulated. Everything is happening all at once, and you can sense the climb once the tip hits your womb. “I can’t do iiit! You’re gonna break meee!!”

“Keheh, wouldn’t be the first time.” It’s probably for the best because you can’t see the smug-ass grin on his oddly comely face. More kisses are placed on your back. “Shut up and take it, dove,” he commands you, not leaving you any room to retaliate as his thrusts increase without warning. 

Your mouth is agape, and your cries are unwillingly bouncing around the shoji-paneled walls. A bit of spit comes down your lips, your hands only finding Sukuna’s waist for your nails to dig into. The grumble of his stomach traversing to your core to rumble with the vibrations. Oh, God, noo!! You can feel it – the worse of the worse. Just when you thought your humiliation wasn’t enough at this moment, it was about to skyrocket in three…two…one.

Feverish ruts to your ass, have the reins slip out of your hold, all the restraint in your body withering with every harsh push and pull. Your head pounds like crazy, nothing but a blur can be seen in your eyes, and the clear substance expels out of your urethra, leaving out of your system along with your dignity. 

And Sukuna doesn’t have to see it to believe it, grinning from ear to ear as he playfully smacks on your vulva to create more of a mess. The watered-down liquid sprayed out to his thighs and the futon sheets and sticking to your inner thighs and sliding down the crack of your ass. Tiny pinches to your clit help you jerk out more to ruin yourself, your body losing strength entirely and letting the cursed man keep you in your distorted position. 

“Hmph, what a bad little toy,” he criticizes you like always, the tears beckoning to leave your watery eyes. “Look at you causing a mess on my bedding; who told you to do that?”

“I’m sorry, Lord Sukuna,” your expression borderline fucked out, yet the embarrassment keeps you humble. “Forgive me…my Lord.”

Sukuna slaps onto your clit with his palm; you pucker onto his girths immediately. “You dare ask for forgiveness after the fact—I should just throw you out in the cold with these wet sheets you’ve caused.”

“N-Nooo! I’m so sorry!!” Fuck, he loves it when you plead, so desperate for his word, his submissive and breakable dove. “Pleaseee, fill me up with your seed, and I will clean it up…! I-I won’t do it again…”

“Says who?” He finally lets your legs go briefly before he spreads them over with his lower arms. His upper hands find your chest to grope. “You’ve stained my sheets with your essence; you aren’t sleeping anywhere else tonight except here with me in this exact puddle you made for yourself, you dirty pet. Am I clear?”

His final words have your skin crawl as he nibbles on your nape, and you nod.

“Good.”

ᯓ꩜ Fushiguro Tōji

“Gahhh!! Ahhhhh!!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s it; keep clenchin’.”

Toji’s fingers are stuffed inside you, stretching your poor hole with pushes and pulls that take your breath away with ease—quite literally as your arms come around his neck to keep him close.

His bedroom is filled with nothing but you: your shorts and panties decorating his bedroom floor, the smell of your lotion on your now-sweaty skin intoxicating his senses, and your damp towel laid underneath you as you lie on your back.

Toji sits right beside you, near as you keep him from leaving. Not that he planned to — of course not. When he has his ring and middle finger shoved inside your vagina and grazing your inner skin with a mediocre pace, there’s no way the older man would want to stop now. Fuck, he loved how tight your cunt was, so snug to the touch and tender to his fingertips. It drove him crazy, just like you always make him. He can never get tired of you, honestly. 

“Hahhhh, Tojiii, ahhaaa…” Your whimpers get louder and louder by the second, and your back jerks to the blunt of his fingertips, poking deep inside your chasm. “Gooohh, ohhhshit…!”

“Yeah, sweetie?” His forehead touches yours, skin-on-skin increasing intimacy. “Ya like it when I fuck you wit’ my fingers, huh?” You answer with a whine as he slows his digits down, teasing the walls of your entrance while pressing on your clit with his thumb. He scoffs, “So nice and tight fr’ me, huh…”

“Ahhhh..! Bu–But I just…finished taking a showerrr!!” You wail with pleading hooded eyes that are instantly locked with intense viridian ones. “You’re making me—mmm!—dirty again…!”

He raises a brow. “That doesn’t mean anythin’ to me,” more push to your clitoris causes your body to jolt closer to Toji, and he sneers. “Getting all ready and clean fr’ me, what a good girl…all the more fun fr’ Daddy to make ya all dirty and cryin’ all over again.”

A hand grips his shoulder, exposed by his black wife-beater. “Pleasee, Daddy, it’s too—Aghahh!” He sneaks his fingers back inside knuckle-deep; the deep chuckle you hear from him causes your ears to melt. 

“C’mon, mama, I know you have it in ya,” he coos with a kiss to your forehead that has you dissolve under his scarred lips. “Wring my fingers up, make a mess fr’ me.”

Another kiss to your forehead makes you whine, the gentle atmosphere only lasting for mere seconds before the pace of his hand returns to a rhythm that has you screaming instantly. Jesus Christ, those thick fingers are no joke, the stretch enough to overwhelm your senses, along with how deep they reach inside. 

Every push to your cunt has you breathless, and every dig is knuckles-deep and too fast to catch up with one after the other. “Ohoooo, D-Daddyyy, n-nooo!” Yet there’s no point in begging now—once Toji is deadset on something, it’s challenging to swade him off. Especially when it comes to you, his little sweet thing… “I’m gonna—ohfuuck!—I’m so clooose…!”

Your words only egg Toji on to keep fingering you as much as he can, ravaging your delicate insides with his hand alone. He purchases his face to your neck, sighing deeply at the alluring whiff of your lotion. He licks your skin before a kiss, and the pace between your legs becomes unforgivingly faster.

Eyes roll up to the ceiling as your body shuts down without your knowledge, completely taken aback by the climax that clenches around the thickness of Toji’s fingers. Also, the water liquid is excreting projectively from the continuous knock-kneed-worthy pleasure. You let loose with a howl, your back arching with every subtle buck of your hips. 

Toji looks down with a salacious grin, taking in the sight of you spraying all over his bed. The towel is doing nothing but getting damper because of you, and he can only chortle at the sight and, lowkey, thank his intuition for wearing a wife-beater so you can coat his forearm. Dazed with euphoria, your body slumps down to the sheets, sweaty and sticky from the excretions and panting heavily. So much for a shower, huh?

Toji whistles and courses his free hand atop your head while besmearing your vulva with your juices. “Good girl, mama, good fuckin’ girl.”

© HOSHIGRAY2024 ✮ reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ header art by hyocorou + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[codnasties]

cod characters fucking fleshlights

this post includes: soap, ghost, gaz, price, graves, konig & alejandro

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

soap 🧼- the one that takes his time

now, this ain't soap's first time using a fleshlight. he started with a tenga egg or something like that, just for the sake of trying something that wasn't his hand. and i just know that troughout the years he has created a decently sized collection with a lot of varietiy: fleshlights imitating pussies, asses, mouths,... even if a man like him could easily pull a pretty lass to fuck, with the job he has and what it requires of him, it isn't always ideal.

but there is one thing that soap does, no matter weather he's fucking one of his partners or a plastic replica: he takes his time. stroking himself tentatively before lubing his dick up and loweing the fleshlight onto his hard on until he's balls deep. and when i say he fucks it as if it were a real person i mean it. he's fucking int in diferent positions, jerking himself with it but also fucking into it, both slow and fast until cums all over himself

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

ghost 👻- the stretcher

ghost sometimes has to ask himself if he's really that big and thick or if it's just that the one or two fleslights he owns are way too fucking small. he doesn't know, but he very much loves it. there is something about the size difference, the way the plastic stretches to fit him and how he can perfecly see it expanding as he pushes his dick deeper into it that makes him go feral.

now, other than his size kink goin brrr, he finds himself swiping his cock against the flesglight's pussy-like entrance, as if he were teasing a real cunt, before fucking himself slowly into it. he's mersmerized by the plastic doll completely swallowing up his aching hard dick until he's balls deep. he also intends to pull out - just to save himself some clean up - but he finds himself so overwhelmed by the feeling and visuals that he just fill the fleshlight up with his potent cum - more than once, at that -.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

gaz 🧢- mess making perpetrator

this may be my most repeated gaz headcanon but he's a mess maker and there is no deniying. when he get's home from a mission or something like that and he doesn't feel like trying to find a partner to fuck, he always has a trusty fleshlight. the thing is, he doesn't even make it to the bedroom most of the time, deciding to just fuck it in his livingroom.

he just plunged deeply into the plastic pussy, stretching the plastic over his limit because his dick is too long for the small fleshlight, almos breking it. the pent up hornyness and the feeling of something other than his hand wrapped around his dick sending him into an orgasm faster than he expected. he pulls out to first his impossibly hard cock when he feels himself about to cum. and he stains the sofa with it as the mess perpetrator that he is - and let me tell you, it ain't the first time he's had to clean his seed out of that sofa.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

price 🚬- the first timer

price is an older and more traditional man, he would rather fuck another person than some piece of plastic. but he keps hearing his men talk about fleshlights, how good they feel,.. and all that combined with the fact that he ain't getting younger, he's extra tired and trying to find a partner with a job like his is tedious, he decides to get himself a fleshlight just to try it out of curiotisty.

what he did not expect was that god forsaken piece of plastic would feel that fucking good. all it took was some slow deep strokes into it before he found himself cumming. and at that moment his lust filled brain took over and he started fucking himself into the fleshlight again, trying to extend the pleasure of the orgasm. let's say he now fully understands why his men praise them plastic holes.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

konig 🗡- the nasty fucker

lets be real, konig is fleshlight collector number 2. anxiety gets the best of him so he would rather to make do with some plastic pussy or ass than having to deal with the hassle of interacting with people. his not that experiended ass is fucking enamoured by the feeling of and ass or pussy, even if it isn't a real one.

now, konig allways finds himself doing two thing every time he uses one of his fleshlight. a. he moans. like a bitch in heat. he can't help it, it just feels overwhelingly good to have something wrapping tightly around his unexperienced cock. and the fact of finally getting some release. b. he makes messes - yup, mess making perpetrator no. 2 -. spit, precum, lube and cum mixing all together, covering his dick, hands and fleshlight as he fucks himself dumb and slaps his dick all over yhe plastic ass.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

graves 🪦 - the stressed

now, these military men always find themselves stressed out, it's a part of the job. but for graves, said job and the tension that it generates have kept him away for some time now from a real pussy or ass. so a fleshlight is a good alternative, giving him all that he needs to reach some much needed release.

the few occasions he has had enough time to indulge in some pleasure, he's going to make the most of it. alternating slow, sensual deep strokes and fast shallow ones. hands making sure that the fleshlight stays in place as he plunges into it chasing an orgasm and moanig at the sweet feeling of release. he for sure cums deep inside of the plastic masturbator, because it may be plastic, but he loves creampie-ing it the same way he would creampie a real person.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

alejandro 🤠 - the tip teaser

alejandro doesn't strike me as the type of person that would have a proper fleshlight, you know? instead of a piece of plastic that fully engulfs his dick he has one of those quickshot ones. a transparent one at that. it gives him a lot of options, from fully jerking his cock with it to just teasing his tip.

and oh does he love to tease his tip! using that comact masturbator to play with his angry red bulbous tip. pushing just the head in and out, sometimes tilting it to make his dick pop out of the fleshlihgwith a wet noise. and seeing his cock breach into the plastic, dick twitching at the feeling, his stomach spasming from the sensation... he always inevitably cums all over himself, staining his hard shaft, lower hairy stomach, thights and even the quilt.

[superhoeva]

Older boyfriend logan who walks in on you touching yourself and takes over for you…? 👀👀

for a while, logan just watches.

eyes burning and lip pinching when he bites it to contain his groans at the sight of you rubbing at your wetness with a feverous hand. with the way your chest arches in the air and how little mewls of pleasure slip from your parted mouth, logan's becoming painfully hard. eyes still settled upon you, he has to squeeze himself through the crotch of his pants.

he can only hold on a second longer before starling you by storming into the room and right for the bed.

ignoring your gasp, logan slinks onto the bed with ease, his hips grinding against the mattress for some kind of release while his arms circle around your thighs.

"decided to start without me, huh?" the question comes with a thick lick that has your eyes flicking down to meet his gaze. one of his hands bends to grab your wrist that tries to pull away to make room for his tongue. "uh uh. didn't tell you stop, did i? you keep goin', rub her nice and good for me."

logan sprinkles the words between wet, moving to pepper kisses across your spread thighs. eyes twinkling, he huffs out a moan at the way you dip the pads of your fingers into your leaking slit before rubbing a few circles around your clit.

his mouth falls open a little at the way your hips roll, pussy almost feathering against him when you squirm. you clench around nothing as your digits hasten in pace, desperately gliding your slickness. you feel another rush of warmth when logan continues his rumbling, cheek pressed against your thigh while he watches, mesmerized.

“ooh, that’s good. give her what she wants, yeah. give my pussy whatever she wants.”

fuck, he’s drooling. breaths huffing and cock twitching, logan oozes out a glob of spit from his lips that only adds to your wetness. you flinch in delight at the feeling.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he praises when you collect the saliva and knead it into you, back arching with a low whimper. logan forgets all ounces of his restraint when you buck again, allowing his tongue to glide against you, all the way up until he’s nosing your fingers out of the way.

logan licks at you again with a long inhale and gritty moan when your legs tighten around him. he holds you as you shake, pussy grinding itself along his mouth and chin while he noisily drinks you up.

he’s pulling away after a few more slurps, licking his lips and burning the taste of you into his brain once again. before you can think, more kisses are pressed into your puffy clit, and logan’s eyes crinkle with a tiny grin when you jerk.

logan keeps his lips on you, small pecks melting into messy snogs. the grunt that bubbles from his throat has you gasping, and the knowing glance his eyes swipe at you as he sinks his tongue into deeper your hole tells you only one thing.

…you’re in for a long night.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[citysuk]

a baby?! | logan howlett

pairing: xmen!logan howlett x pregnant!reader

summary: some headcanons of logan with a pregnant partner.

notes: logan is so husband (not actually married) material 😭😭😭 i needed to write this for my man.

warnings: pregnancy kajsksa (it scares me to death), so much fluffy fluff. no proofread. no use of y/n but no oc neither.

Logan's protective nature would go into overdrive when you are pregnant. He'd be extra vigilant, watching your every move and refusing to let you out of his sight. "You ain't goin' nowhere, darlin'," he'd growl.

Logan would be constantly fussing over you, making sure you're eating right and taking care of yourself. He'd become a regular at the grocery store, stocking up on the necessary supplies for your pregnancy. "Can't have my baby going hungry," he'd say, tossing another loaf of bread into the cart.

Logan would be a pro at soothing you through the uncomfortable parts of pregnancy. He'd rub your back when you had cramps, hold your hair when you were sick, and provide as much comfort as he could. "It's gonna be okay," he'd murmur. "Just a few more months."

Logan would be eager to feel the baby kick and move inside your belly. He would place his hand on your stomach, feeling every little movement, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Hey there, little one," he'd whisper.

Logan would take you for late night walks in the gardens, his arm protectively around your waist, your steps slow and measured. He'd breathe in the night air, a rare peacefulness settling over him. "Can't wait to meet our kid," he'd say quietly, squeezing your hand.

Logan might be a bit nervous about being a father, but he would never let it show. He'd put on a brave front, masking his fears with his usual gruff exterior, but would secretly be reading every parenting book he can find.

As the due date got closer, Logan would become increasingly anxious. He'd be extra cautious, carrying you up and down the stairs and insisting that you rest as much as possible. "Can't have anything happen to you or the baby," he'd say, his eyes filled with worry.

Despite his tough exterior, Logan would be secretly excited about decorating the nursery. He'd take you to every baby shop in town, helping you pick out the perfect crib and the perfect color for the walls (he's the one putting everything together).

When the baby is finally born, Logan would be there, holding your hand, coaching you through the delivery. He'd whisper words of encouragement, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall. "You're doing great, darlin'."

As soon as he lays eyes on his child, Logan's heart would instantly fill with love. He'd be torn between staring at the baby and checking on you, a range of emotions playing on his face.

Logan would be the ultimate doting father. He'd change diapers, give baths, and rock the baby to sleep. He'd sing lullabies and tell bedtime stories, his voice gruff but his words soft.

Logan would have a love/hate relationship with the baby's first word. When they said "Dada" for the first time, he'd puff up with pride, but then be secretly disappointed that it wasn't "Mama."

He would have a collection of silly nicknames for the baby, ranging from "Cub" to "Little One". He'd sometimes slip into Wolven mode and playfully growl at the baby, making them giggle.

Logan would be incredibly overprotective of the baby. Anytime someone tried to hold them, he'd hesitate and watch hawkishly. He wouldn't let anyone but his partner and the X-Men near the child, always on high alert for any potential threat. "Ain't nobody touchin' my kid, bub," he'd growl, eyes narrowed.

Logan would be the one to handle the late-night feedings and soothe the baby back to sleep. "Can't let your mama get too exhausted," he'd mutter as he rocked the baby in his arms.

Logan would be careful when the baby started walking and crawling, especially around the danger-prone X- Mansion. He'd constantly be on edge every time the baby would try to grab something sharp or crawl towards a dangerous area. "Watch yourself there, squirt," he'd say, scooping them up before they could get into trouble.

Logan would also be a very hands-on father. He'd want to teach the child everything he knows, from fighting to the wilderness. He'd take them camping and teach them how to survive in the wild. "Gotta be tough like your old man," he'd say.

Even though Logan would claim he wasn't the type to get attached to kids (LIAR), he'd secretly have a soft spot for the one you had created together.

[poguehearted77]

After Hours

summary: Rafe lets his jealousy get the best of him and it pisses you off, but he makes it up to you after hours.

"Y/n, he's doing it again" Carly whispers over your shoulder as you work on drying off the bar glasses and putting them back on the shelf. You sigh on the outside but your insides warm at the thought of Rafe staring at the back of your figure. This is how it always goes.

He always wants to see you, claiming he can't get enough while you pull away, dedicated to your job. So Rafe decides why not kill two birds with one stone and come see you at work.

Unfortunately, wherever Rafe goes, his posse follows, and considering they're notorious party animals, they can't seem to hold their liquor. "Hey, Let's get another round goin' over here!" Topper shouts, words slurred and eyes heavy-lidded. Anyone within a mile radius could hear the cheers that came from their table at the announcement, and it made you dread going over there, but it's your job.

Not that you hated where you worked, it was right in the heart of figure eight, not too far from where you lived and it pays well most days, but drunk kooks pay even better.

As you walked over with a tray of shots, their hollers grew louder in volume and the environment made you nervous. Not because of the noise at their table, but because of the silence that Rafe held as you placed everything down.

His quiet, blue gaze lingered over your curves as you smiled at the boys. "Wow, you're just too pretty to be working at this hour. How about you pull up a chair and join us?" Topper's hand gently holds your upper arm and Rafe finally speaks up.

Prompted by a flare of jealousy, "Get your hands off her, Top." Rafe's voice overpowers the table to a still silence that even startled you. Topper immediately moves his hand as Kelce 'Oohs'. "Shit man, my bad." He apologizes. Rafe sends you an apologetic glance that you ignore before hastily collecting your tray and returning to the bar.

But it was too late. You were already upset.

-

The bar had just let out its last customer and you worked on wiping down the tables, most of the lights off and the blinds shut. Some street lights managed to seep through the cracks in the shutters which left golden shadows on the black marble countertops.

It takes a knock on the door to finally pull your head up from the task on hand where you are locking eyes with Rafe on the other side of the glass. You stepped towards the door, not unlocking it.

Your arms crossed and your expression conveyed what he already knew. "Open the door." Voice muffled but you still hear him loud and clear, you huff, knowing he would break the door down if he needed to. You opened it.

"You know I'm not a fucking child, right Rafe?" You sneer, and he locks the door behind him. "I know that. I just hate seeing other guys hit on you. It does things to me- shit makes me just wanna-" his expression contorts, unable to describe the emotion.

"I know, but you gotta trust me. You think I like when that bitch Holly from the yacht club has her hands on you? No, but I trust you." You throw the cloth down on the bar.

Watching as Rafe rounded the island to be on your side, finger under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. His stone-cold blue eyes run warm as he grins down at you, "I don't give a fuck what Holly does, cuz at the end of the day all I'm thinkin' bout is you."

He leans down, his breath ghosting over your lips. Just barely giving you a taste of what you so desperately need. "I still don't forgive you." You quip, hardly able to step away before his big hand is wrapped around your neck, a light pressure applied, a warning.

"You think I'm lying? I'll show you who the fuck this dick belongs to. How about that, yeah?"

In a blur of heated kisses and hot touches, your clothes were scattered across the floor and your bra had landed somewhere on the rack, forgotten as Rafe fucked you mindless over the counter.

His thick cock pummeling in and out of your soaked cunt. He grabs a fistful of your dark curls, pulling you up so your back can meet his chest. "Now tell me, baby. Who does this pussy belong to, huh?" He hisses through clenched teeth, overwhelmed by the tight grip your walls provided him.

"M-me." You moan pathetically and it makes him laugh. He lets you go, and your upper half falls back onto the counter unceremoniously. He pulled out slowly, all the way until only the tip remained buried. "Try again."

He plummets back inside your core, his tip kissing your cervix and you scream, eyes filling with tears as you blabber, begging him not to stop. "Let's try that again, yeah? Who does this pussy belong to."

"You! You-- fuck! It's yours, all yours. No one else's."

He grins, he already knew this, of course. He just liked hearing you say it.

[wazzappp]

AAAAAAAAaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

TEEEEEEEETH!!! TEEEETH TEETH TEETTTHHHHHH TWEEEEEEEEETHHHEH ETRHEHTEEHTHWTEHEEEEWEHHTTTTTHHHH

wip-posting yet again

[except this time i will actually finish them Dont Look At My Last Wip post Shhhhh]

yet another instance of Cicada Nearly Bites It Taking Reference Pics

I know it was For Kids n all and they did actually go quite far but. absolute horror-movie Casket was an opportunity missed 😔

✨️But. That's what Tumblr Is Here For✨️ to give The Spookies

Psssst Wazzappp hiiiiii >:]c

[brittle-doughie]

Slight Detour (Grand Cookie Games)

———————————————————————

[Phone Booth, Parfaedia]

“Yeah, I might come back to the kingdom a little later then expected, Dumpling Cookie.”

“What? Are the cookies at the Flower City becoming an issue?”

“What? No! No no, I parted from there on good terms, it’s just…the airship had to take a quick stop at Parfaedia, one thing led to another and I got to meet some old pals.”

“Old pals? Old pals…Parfaedia…oh, you mean those three cookies you met during the Triple Cone Cup tournament…”

“Yeah. Prune Juice Cookie, Capsaicin Cookie, and Kouign-Amann Cookie. We were catching up when they brought to my attention another tournament, the Grand Cookie Games.”

“And you’re intent on going there?”

“Well…”

You looked back to see the three cookies standing a little bit away from the phone booth, looking on at you from anticipation. They backed off a bit and looked in random directions innocently when you catch them.

“I don’t think I could miss an opportunity to relive some fun with them, just like old times. Besides, erm, it would help in framing my mind off…matters.”

“I will make a note of that…I’ll have to bring this up with Salsa too. You’re lucky Crowned is visiting family, she’d hunt you down if she heard you were there…”

“Hehe, yeah. Thank you, Dumpling…”

“Just…be careful, ‘kay?”

“I will, don’t worry…”

You hang up the phone and stepped out.

“Hey, uh. Did it all go out well, buddy?”

“If there are problems, that’s ok. We can understand if you’re a little too busy for the games.”

“Though, it would be great if you were able to go with us! We can be on the same team again!”

Well, they were in luck, because you cleared up enough time in your schedule to go with them!

“Ha ha! I knew it! This is going to be awesome!”

“Not like I predicted you’d say yes, but really, how can you when you’re looking at moi.”

“Then why wait! Let’s go!”

———————————————————————

Ok, there was a lot more familiar faces at this tournament than you expected!

“Oooh! Is that Y/N Cookie over there? That’s, like, totes amazing!”

“Ha! I expected them to have the strength to come here! I’m counting on a match with them!”

“I wasn’t! Goodness, I knew I should’ve done up my hair more today!”

“Is that Y/N Cookie I’m seeing over there! Woo, I’m feeling all kinds of amped today, baby!”

“Oh, they’re here. That’s…that’s fine.”

“Black Lemonade Cookie, I know you’re as excited to see them here as much as we do!”

“I’m..not denying that.”

“Y/N Cookie? I wasn’t expecting ya to be around these parts. If so, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya, so give it your shot!”

“Ah, Y/N Cookie. You’ve showed up just in time for me to brainstorm up a new novel. The romance between the protagonist and their love is just getting started!”

“Have you come for the coins too, Y/N Cookie? I won’t be giving up on them so easily, I must make sure that no Cookie in the world goes hungry!”

“Y/N Cookie is hereeee. Maybe they’d like a shroomie!”

“AHAHAHA! Did they come to see us squash these bugs!”

“Maybe by winning these games, we can finally convert them over to our side! All without Pomegranate Cookie around to ruin it!”

The CoD were here? Again? Man, you were getting tired of handling these guys-on second thought, you prefer them over those horrid Beast Cookies at this rate.

“So you’re Y/N Cookie?”

Huh? You turned around to see..

This..Cookie that you’ve never met before.

“Yeah..that’s me.”

“Oooh! I detect something FASCINATING about you! Care to share?”

“I…don’t know you?”

“Not sharing? I’ll just have to MAKE YOU!”

Without warning, this cookie fired her blaster hands at you, to which you quickly dodged and leaped out of their way!

“Hey! What’s your problem?!”

“I have collected data on you from other cookies. It is incomplete, so I want EVERYTHING on you to complete my data!”

“That’s not a thing that’s happening.”

“Then we’ll make this quick.”

“Aha!”

You turned around just in time to block a hit with your sword, your opponent was another unfamiliar cookie that wielded a large knife.

“As long as I carry this blade, I must win, but handling you is my second top priority. I want to see if you’re capable of looking into the darkness.”

“I’ve looked into it and it was the one that blinked!”

You pushed her off and steadied your blade. These games just got a little bit interesting for you now!

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (BONUS)

Summary: A peak into the future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 1,865

Warnings: None. Fun fluff!

A/N: Sorry, y'all. I had some more left in the tank.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

As a bright sun began to set over the Fayetteville horizon to transform the bright cerulean sky to one glowing with orange and purple hues, 22 young men huddled at the 50-yard line of Francis High School’s freshly lined football field. The wind lightly blew around them for a welcomed cool breeze while they ran through yet another play before their first playoff game of the season. 

“Defense, we in man coverage. Offense, run a Go. We need to tighten up this late-game execution. How you gon’ react under pressure? Show me somethin’ boys!” 

While the head coach rattled off instructions to the team, Terry stood nearby with his arms folded and eyes intently focused on the two wide receivers occupying the field. Cam and CT Wilson were tall and lean twin boys who reminded him of how he looked by senior year except they were sophomores with room to grow. He told them on day one that they were physical specimens with unreal speed and high IQ made for a few semesters at Clemson if they could focus through the head-spinning four years that made up their high school experience. He promised their father that he’d be there to guide them through it all save for a few months during Spring practices.

“Cam, you goin’ inside on this one. You remember the count,” he hollered out from the sideline. 

“Locked in!” 

Terry answered with a thumbs up and adjusted his stance for optimal comfort. The child-sized weight on his shoulders was starting to get heavy but he knew the tongue-lashing that awaited him if he dared to make a false move. 

“He goes too slow. Make him count fast so he won’t drop, Daddy.” 

The small voice from above made him look up for confirmation to find her already looking down at him with a scrunched nose and missing teeth that resembled her mother when she was that age. 

“You sure?” 

“Just watch.” 

Together, they watched the play unfold. Terry counted along in his head to time when the ball should leave the quarterback’s hand in comparison to where Cameron should’ve been on the field. Sure enough, he was a step slow causing the quarterback to throw the ball slightly ahead of him for a bobbled pass. 

“Hm,” he grunted more to himself than anyone else. “I’ll be damned. Aye, Cam, come here for a second!” 

Above him, perched on her throne, Nyla Naomi Richmond rested a smart tablet on her father’s head to watch film from the previous game like she always did. Her mahogany skin was shiny under the bright white LED lights illuminating the field from her mother’s overzealous lotioning before they left home. Per her request, Terry had braided half of her hair back to give way to a collection of moisturized zigzag coils for first-grade picture day. Glasses rested at the tip of her nose with a bright yellow strap to keep them attached to her face. She kept her attention focused on the tablet’s screen, even as Cam jogged toward her and her father on the sideline. 

“Yeah, Coach? I do something wrong.” 

“Too slow,” Nyla answered without looking up. “Speed up. You’re like a turtle out there. We gotta win, man!” 

Terry and Cameron chuckled together as Terry tapped the top of Cam’s helmet. 

“A little quicker on the count, man. If you get there when you’re supposed to, that’s a catch all day. Make ‘em beat you. Don’t beat yourself.” 

“Type shit. I got you, Coach.” 

“Hey! Don’t say bad words.” 

“My fault, Coach Ny. Can I do my pushups later?” 

“Yeah yeah yeah.” 

Cam laughed at her dismissal before accepting a fist bump from Terry and rejoining the field. Terry couldn’t contain his smile as he reached up to tickle his firstborn's sides for that high-pitched giggle he loved so much. 

“Be nice, MiMi. Remember the rule?” He craned his neck to look up at her for the lesson he’d been struggling to get through her head since she began joining practice. 

She sighed dramatically and frowned. “Be hard on the work, not the person. I know, I know.” 

“Be better next time, champ. We’re here to help, not hurt.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Yes sir,” he repeated to mock her childish grumble. “You’re so mean like your mama. Gimme a kiss.” 

Like she always did, Nyla lifted her daddy’s cap to kiss the crown of his head before placing the hat backward atop her own head. 

From the day she first showed herself in a routine sonogram, Terry knew she’d be a firecracker. She refused to show her face to him and Patrice. She carefully concealed her features during an expensive 3D scan and almost hid her gender had they not caught her during an in-utero nap. 

She came into the world kicking and screaming at a long 24 inches and a head clean as a whistle just like her pops. With Patrice, she was the perfect baby. She slept all night, cooed and babbled when spoken to, and grew into a little girl who loved to cuddle into her mommy while they watched Pixar movies on the weekends. With Terry, she was a hell-raiser. Loud and rambunctious with a love for NFL games on Sunday afternoons and playful wrestling on the living room rug. 

Their smart girl had her hand in everything imaginable and, when they’d listen to other parents complain about the difficulty of raising young ones during playdates and birthday parties, they always came away feeling like they’d lucked out with Nyla. 

Across the way, Patrice stepped onto the newly refinished running track with the cheerleading team for warm-ups. Under her school t-shirt, her belly protruded enough to tell anyone looking hard enough that she was expecting. Behind her, she pulled a cooler meant to supply the football team with cold water and snacks for the next day. 

“Mrs. Richmond, you want me to help you? You always be actin’ like you Superwoman or somethin’.” her captain called out from behind her, jogging to catch up with Patrice’s long stride. 

Patrice waved her off. “Nuh-uh. Y’all start stretching. I need to drop this off personally.” 

“Uh-huh. You going to your little boyfriend. Being fast!” 

“I learned from you, Z.” 

“Not you in my business!” 

Patrice’s loud laughter created an echo in the stadium, becoming a bat signal for Terry and Nyla’s attention. 

“Hey, Mommy!” 

Nyla rushed to hop off Terry’s shoulders like he was a jungle gym, unconcerned with any harm she inflicted with her long legs as she shimmied down his body. He winced in pain until she was safely on the ground before lightly trotting behind her to greet his wife. 

Seven years of marriage hadn’t changed much of their love. They’d navigated the growing pains of newlywed life and parenthood to come out stronger on the other side. So much stronger that they’d neglected to follow through on contraceptives to keep their family of three from growing to a family of four. Their parents called a second pregnancy a blessing. And though they mostly felt the same, they also knew that baby number two was the result of too much booze and ignoring the cycle tracker during a kid-free night in Charlotte. 

Patrice braced herself for impact once Nyla got closer and wrapped her body around her legs. 

“Hey, baby,” she greeted, rubbing circles at the center of her back. “You look so pretty. Did you finish your homework?” 

“Mhm! I got 100 on my math test, too!” 

“Alriiight! That’s my smart bestie. Now you gotta pick a place for dinner this weekend.” 

“Can we get piz-”

“A place that is not buffet pizza again. Pick something else.” Terry interjected, making Nyla groan. Dad’s word was final whether she liked it or not. His eyes flickered to Patrice’s still for extra confirmation. Mom’s word was final final. 

She offered a small smile while zhushing the back of Nyla’s hair. “Try something new, Naomi. Maybe chicken tenders this time?” 

Nyla accepted her parents’ redirection with another dramatic sigh that made Terry and Patrice stifle laughter. 

“I know, mama. It’s so hard being six years old. We can write a book about it tonight when we get home so you can help your little sister or brother when they get here.” 

“I hope it’s a girl. Boys are boring.”

Neither of them could muster a response before Nyla abandoned them to supervise the cheerleaders as they started to run through cheers. 

They waited in silence until she was out of earshot to face each other with equally broad smiles. 

Terry spoke up first as he reached down to take the cooler’s handle from Patrice’s hand. 

“Didn’t I tell you from the jump she’d be a second you?” 

“Oh no, she’s a second DeeDee. She might have my mom’s middle name but she is your mama through and through.”

“Touché.” Terry chuckled. That’s why the duo got along so well. They were twin flames in more ways than one. 

A lull in the conversation made Patrice subconsciously bring her hand up to her stomach for a soft rub. Terry looked on with a fond smile, proud of the way her wedding ring reflected the light back into the night sky like a star on the ground. 

He pushed the cooler to the side and grabbed her free hand to pull her into a side hug. He kissed her temple several times over, making Patrice giggle like a schoolgirl at the sensation. 

“We make a cute kid, don’t we?” 

Patrice hummed and closed her eyes for a brief second to feel the full press of his chest on her body and his arms squeezing a little tighter than before. “So cute. She talks too much, but that’s okay.” 

“Wonder where she gets that from?” 

“Her damn daddy.” 

The vibration from Terry’s deep baritone encased in laughter tingled against Patrice’s arm to cover her in warmth from head to toe. A whistle and call of his name from the field snapped both of them from their semi-private moment, making them reluctantly pull away. 

Terry leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips as a parting gift before slyly sneaking the tip of his tongue into her mouth. She playfully pushed him to save them from the embarrassment of taking it too far in public. 

“C’mon, MiMi, we not done yet.” Patrice watched Nylah quickly ditch her squad to meet her daddy’s outstretched arms for him to place her back on his shoulders and rejoin the team. He called back over his shoulder for her attention. “I love you, baby! Go get off your feet!” 

“Sit down, Mommy!” 

“Yeah, sit down, Mrs. Richmond!” 

Patrice wore a semi-serious scowl on her face and threw her hands up to stop the barrage of demands. 

“Woah, woah, woah! I am grown,” she hollered back to everyone in the area. She began the slow journey toward her team and clapped her hands. “Just for that, let me see that Hot To Go routine. If you mess up, you owe me a lap.” 

A collection of teenage girl groans made Patrice crack a smile.

Maybe Terry was right.

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[pandapetals]

Always

You find a photo from your childhood that sends you spiraling and Logan comforts you.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Ororo had casually mentioned wanting to borrow a pair of boots you’d worn years ago, which led to you rummaging around in your closet for over an hour. You could picture them perfectly in your mind—brown leather, worn but stylish—and you vividly remembered boxing them up and stacking them neatly with your other shoes. Or, at least, you thought you did.

Frustration began to creep in as you pulled down box after box, each one revealing everything except the boots you were looking for. A pair of strappy heels you didn’t even remember owning. A dusty pair of sneakers that should’ve been thrown out years ago. Another box filled with scarves instead of shoes.

When you reached the last box, tucked away in the farthest corner, you huffed and pulled it closer. This one felt oddly light, and when you opened it, your hands stilled. Inside wasn’t the pair of boots you’d been searching for but something you hadn’t seen in years—a collection of forgotten belongings.

There were old photos, their edges frayed and curling, buried under an assortment of trinkets: a childhood bracelet you thought you’d lost, a small drawing you’d scribbled as a kid, and a fraying ticket stub from a county fair. At the very top of the pile was a photo of you as a child, standing between your parents. The three of you were smiling like the picture-perfect family. Your dad had his arm around your mom, and she was beaming as if she didn’t have a care in the world. But you knew better.

Before you could stop yourself, you picked up the photo, your fingers trembling as the memories came rushing back. The forced smiles. The nights spent hiding under your blanket, praying your dad’s temper wouldn’t boil over. The mornings after, when your mom would quietly clean up the aftermath as if nothing had happened.

Tears blurred your vision, spilling down your cheeks before you could wipe them away. You clutched the photo to your chest, your heart twisting in a storm of conflicting emotions—grief, anger, and a longing you didn’t quite know how to name.

That’s how Logan found you—kneeling in the dim closet, surrounded by scattered shoes and open boxes, your shoulders shaking as you sobbed silently into the picture. His chest tightened at the sight, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking you in, his usual gruffness replaced by a quiet tenderness.

“Sweetheart,” Logan murmured softly, stepping into the closet and kneeling beside you. His hand was warm and steady as it settled on your back, rubbing gentle circles. “What’s goin’ on?”

You couldn’t speak at first, the lump in your throat making it impossible. You just held up the photo for him to see, your fingers curling tightly around its edges.

Logan took it, his eyes flickering over the image before settling back on you. He didn’t press, didn’t demand answers. He just waited, his quiet presence like a steady anchor in the storm.

After a moment, you managed to whisper, “It’s been years… since he died. And I still don’t know how to feel.” Your voice cracked, the weight of the confession spilling out like a flood. “He was an abusive alcoholic, Logan. He hurt me. He hurt my mom. And yet… I still miss him. How messed up is that?”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his gaze softening. He placed the photo carefully on the ground and took your trembling hands in his, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “It ain’t messed up,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “He was your dad, sweetheart. No matter what he did, part of you wanted him to be better—for you, for your mom. That hope doesn’t just go away.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears falling harder now. “I wanted so badly to hate him. But after he died, I just couldn’t. I forgave him…and my mom…I keep wishing we could fix things, but every time I try, it just… it doesn’t work.”

Logan nodded, his expression unreadable but deeply attentive. “Your mom’s probably got her own guilt to carry,” he said after a pause. “And that’s a heavy thing to drag around. Maybe she doesn’t know how to meet you halfway. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for wantin’ somethin’ better.”

His words, raw and simple, cut through the noise in your head, giving shape to feelings you’d struggled to name. “How do I even start?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to your hands in his. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted. “But you don’t have to figure it all out at once. Sometimes… you just gotta take it one day at a time. You can’t change what’s behind you, but you can decide what’s ahead.”

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for something—guidance, reassurance, anything. “What about your parents?” you asked hesitantly. “Do you… remember them? I know you don’t like talking about them.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your knuckles. “Bits and pieces,” he said finally. “My dad…the man I knew as my dad…I remember him being kind. He used to take care of me when…I was sick. And my mom… she tried, but…” He trailed off, his expression distant for a moment before he looked back at you. “I don’t remember much, but I know one thing for sure. You don’t get to pick where you come from, but you can pick where you’re goin’.”

His words settled deep in your chest, like a quiet flame sparking in the dark, warming places you hadn’t realized were still cold. Without hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles—the same hands that had once brought destruction but now protected and comforted with an unmatched tenderness. You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along his skin.

“You’re a good man, James,” you whispered, your voice steady but full of emotion.

Logan didn’t respond right away, but his hazel eyes softened, the weight of your words sinking into him in ways he rarely allowed. His gaze held yours, brimming with something raw and unguarded, the kind of emotion he kept locked away from the world. Slowly, he reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek with a careful thumb, his touch as gentle as his expression was conflicted. It was the touch of someone who knew pain intimately but was still learning what it meant to heal.

“James,” he murmured, the name sounding foreign as it rolled off his tongue. He said it like he was testing its weight, trying to remember the man who used to wear it. “Haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“Sorry,” you said quickly, guilt creeping into your tone as you searched his face for a reaction. “I didn’t mean—”

Logan shook his head, cutting you off gently. “No,” he said, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “It’s okay. Just… feels strange. Like I don’t deserve it. That name… it feels tied to someone better than me. Someone I haven’t been in a long time.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and your hand instinctively moved to cradle his, holding it between your smaller palms. “Logan,” you began softly, your voice trembling but steadying as you went on. “You are good. You’ve proven it time and time again. You’ve protected people, cared for them—even when you didn’t think you were capable of it.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to where your hands held his, as though he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “Doesn’t feel like enough sometimes,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “Every time I think I’m more than what I’ve done, more than what I’ve been… something pulls me back. Reminds me I’ve got blood on these hands.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening as your heart ached for him. “These hands—your hands—they’ve saved more lives than they’ve ever hurt. You’ve helped people find hope, find safety. You’ve helped me.” Your voice cracked slightly, and you blinked back the tears brimming in your eyes. “You’ve shown me what love can be, and I’ll remind you every day if I have to, that you’re more than enough.”

With a deep exhale, he met your gaze. “You’ve got a way of makin’ a man feel like he’s more than he is,” he murmured, a faint, almost self-deprecating smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But the warmth in his gaze betrayed how much your words meant to him.

You smiled, leaning in closer, your fingers brushing over the rough, scarred surface of his knuckles, letting your touch linger. “Sometimes… I feel like I was made for this. To remind you of who you really are, even when you forget. You’re not the man you think you are. You’re so much more.”

Logan swallowed hard, his free hand lifting slowly to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin in a gesture so gentle it made your chest ache. “I think we were made for each other,” he said quietly, his voice a low, gravelly whisper like he was confessing a secret. “You’ve shown me I’m more than what I’ve done. More than what people see. And for that… I’m grateful, darlin’. More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

His words wrapped around you like a soft, warm blanket, their weight settling into your heart. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, but your smile didn’t falter. Instead, you leaned into his touch, feeling the calloused strength of his hand cradling you like something precious.

For a long moment, you sat together, the stillness of the room filled with unspoken understanding. Logan’s thumb traced tender circles along your cheekbone, his hazel eyes holding yours with a mixture of awe and gratitude.

Eventually, the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a soft, almost hesitant smile. “Why don’t you tell me something about your dad?” he murmured, his tone gentle, without expectation.

You sighed, your breath shaky as you rested your head against his shoulder. His familiar scent—woodsy and warm—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment. “Something good or bad?” you asked quietly.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice a soft rumble in your ear. “Doesn’t have to be good or bad. Just… tell me what comes to mind.”

You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you stared down at your intertwined hands. His fingers dwarfed yours, but his grip was steady and reassuring as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Most people just want to hear the good stuff,” you said finally, your voice tinged with bitterness. “The kind of memories that paint him as something he wasn’t. They don’t want to know the truth… just the version of him that’s easier to love.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His voice was low, steady. “You don’t have to paint him in a good light for me,” he said. “I may not have known him, but I know you. Whatever you feel, whatever you remember—that’s what matters. You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

His words unraveled something inside you, a knot you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding onto. You exhaled slowly, the tension in your chest easing as you let your head fall more fully against his shoulder.

“I remember the way he used to sing when he was drunk,” you said after a long pause. “He had this old, off-key voice that filled the whole house. It wasn’t… joyful or sweet, though. It was more like he was trying to drown something out. Maybe his regrets. I don’t know.”

Logan stayed silent, his hand resting against your back now, rubbing soothing circles as you spoke.

“And I remember how he’d come home after losing his temper somewhere else,” you continued, your voice trembling. “I’d hear the door slam, and I’d just… freeze. Waiting. Wondering if tonight was going to be a bad night or just a quiet one.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and though he said nothing, you could feel his silent rage at the man you were describing. But his grip on you stayed gentle, his touch never faltering.

“But,” you added, surprising yourself, “I also remember how he’d make breakfast when he wasn’t drinking. Omelettes from scratch. He’d put so much love and care into cooking. He had a real talent for it. I remember thinking those mornings were the closest we ever got to being… normal.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and Logan’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer against his chest. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. “It’s okay to remember the good and the bad. They’re both part of it.”

“I hate that I miss him sometimes,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I hate that I can still find those little pieces of him that I loved, even after everything he did.”

Logan rested his chin on the top of your head, his warmth radiating through you. “Missing someone doesn’t mean you forgive everything, or that you forget the bad,” he said softly. “It just means you’re human. And that’s not a bad thing, sweetheart.”

You looked up at him then, your eyes glassy. “How are you so good at this?” you asked, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You act like you’re all gruff and growly, but here you are, saying stuff like that.”

Logan chuckled, his voice deep and soothing. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” he said, tilting his head down to kiss your forehead softly. “But if I’ve got anything worth sayin’, it’s ‘cause of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your face up to meet his gaze, letting yourself get lost in the tenderness you found there. “Thank you,” you whispered, the weight of your gratitude pressing against your chest. “For listening. For being here.”

He smiled faintly, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. “Always,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

[hoonieyun]

collecting tears - heeseung

jar of tears that were shed for heeseung

lee heeseung x reader "y/n"

genre: angst, situationship, unrequited love

warnings: kissing, suggestive, profanity, mentions of a dead parent, overall 18+

summary: your relationship with heeseung, if you could even call it that, has lasted for almost 3 years. 3 years you were at his beck and call and you were finally done. having convinced yourself that you didn't want to continue what you had with him even if you didn't necessarily believe that. to him it was casual but to you it meant everything.

We were goin' right, then you took a left Left me with a lot of shit to second-guess Guess I'll waste another year on wonderin' if If that was casual, then I'm an idiot sabrina carpenter - sharpest tool word count: 1401

Had it been any other person, you wouldn’t have stayed for so long, but something about Lee Heeseung just pulled you in. 

Three years of wasted time and no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you were slowly chipping away at the hard exterior of Heeseung you were always met with, “You know I’m just not ready for something serious right now.” whenever you would bring up how you’d wish he would hold you as his girlfriend and not the girl that was just filling the empty space in his bed. 

“Hey, are you still up, love?” the text reads as your phone shines in your face. The clock says 2AM but to you it was time to crawl into his bed and to Heeseung it was time to call for someone to take up the empty space between his arms when he sleeps. You don’t even give yourself the time to try and convince yourself that you shouldn’t go before you’re behind the wheel of your car, pulling into Heeseung’s parking lot. The walk from your car to his apartment felt long, your heart drumming inside of your chest and with every step you took it pounded louder and louder as you arrived at his door. The pounding of your heart suddenly silences as you knock on the door and it almost instantly swings open; revealing a casual but handsome looking Heeseung. 

He was standing in his doorway, sweatpants hanging loose around his waist and his toned body being hugged by the black compression shirt he wore. A sight you saw quite often, his usual attire when you would come over and although simple, it definitely had an effect on you. Your mind instantly clearing of any worries or hesitation when you seem. 

“Hey…” Heeseung says and that simple three letter word held so much weight. 

It wasn’t just “Hey” it was: 

“I’m glad you’re finally here.” or…

“I’ve been waiting for you.” and…

“I need you in my arms right now.”

but it was never:

“Be mine.” or “I’m yours.” 

Heeseung takes your hand in his, guiding you to his bedroom but not before connecting your lips, mindlessly moving against one another as you kick his door closed and turn the lock. Navigating your way to his room with no worry because the two of you had memorized the path to his bedroom and you could get there with your eyes. Much like now, eyes closed as your lips connected. 

Past the dining room where his leftover takeout sat, cold. 

Through the hallway with several picture frames hung on the wall of his loved ones, none of which featured you. 

And into the doorframe of his bedroom, landing on his plush bed as you pull away from him to catch your breath. Heeseung’s eyes are dark and low as he watches you, your chest slowly rising as you recall all of the other times you were in this situation. 

When Heeseung took you to his older brother’s birthday, ending the night in his bed. 

When Heeseung took you to the theme park because you said you’d never been before, ending the night in his bed. 

When Heeseung asked you to temporarily move in while you were still looking for a new place to live after college, ending every night in his bed until you found a place. 

Right now, after you spent the whole day thinking of Heeseung, ending the night in his bed. 

Heeseung sets his hand over your neck, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek as he tries to read what you were thinking of through your eyes, “What’s on that pretty little mind of yours?” he asks. It was moments like this when he would speak to you in that way that just soothed your heart, he just had this way of speaking to you and telling you exactly what you needed… but not what you wanted. 

You just shook your head in response and continued where you left off. Spending the night rolling around in his bed, sharing tender and notso tender moments, and making you forget all of the times you wished you hadn’t come over. 

The sun rises in the east, the morning light shining through Heeseung’s bedroom window as your eyes flutter open, the soreness in your legs and back and marks on your neck serving as a reminder of the events of last night. You stretch the events of the night before away as you flip over to the middle of the bed, realizing that Heeseung’s presence was absent. 

Finding your way to his dining room as you see he’s cooking something in the kitchen. The dull air in his apartment almost suffocates you as you approach him, his head slightly turning in your direction when he senses your presence. “Hey, I’m almost done with breakfast. Hope you’re cool with-” Heeseung begins but you interrupt him, knowing what he was already cooking up, “ramyeon?” you say, the two of you chuckling together as you finish his sentence for him. 

“Am I that predictable?” he says with a laugh. “Mmm just a bit.” you say teasingly but you were only half joking. Knowing that you knew how the day after usually goes, you wake up in his bed alone, you find him making the two of you breakfast, and before the clock strikes noon you’re on your way back home with the weight of last night and every other night before that stacked onto your shoulders. 

An endless cycle that has been going on for the last 3 years that you just couldn’t break. 

“Y/N? You hungry?” Heeseung asks and you blink away your thoughts when you realize he’s calling out to you, already sitting at his dining table with two bowls and two sets of chopsticks laid next to him. Steam floating above the boiling pot of ramyeon. 

“What are we?” you abruptly ask Heeseung, shutting his eyes with a sigh as he tries to gather his thoughts for a conversation he doesn’t necessarily want to have. “Really? This again, Y/N?” Heeseung asks, clearly annoyed by your question. “Why can’t you ever just leave it? Let us have what we have without putting a label on things?” Heeseung continues, each word creating a crack in your already brokenheart. 

“And what exactly is that Heeseung? Hmm? What do we have?” you ask, emphasizing the word have like you were testing him because to you, you had something more than Heeseung would admit. He scoffs at your remark, not having an answer but he deflects, turning it back onto you. “See, this is why I can’t commit to you. You want so much out of me and I told you that I just wanted something casual!” Heeseung says, his voice getting louder when yours was barely above a whisper. 

“So is that what this is… casual?” you ask and although he doesn’t give you a verbal response, his actions were enough as he averts his eyes away from your gaze, not wanting to make eye contact with you. “Right…” you say, retreating to his bedroom to grab the small amount of things you brought, planning to leave and not turn back. 

“Where are you going?” Heeseung says, getting up from his seat at the dining table, the pot of ramyeon getting colder the longer this goes on. “Anywhere else but here.” you say, brushing past him as he tries to block you from leaving. 

“None. NONE! Of this was ever casual and you know that.” you say as you stare blankly at his front door. Afraid that if you looked at him you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from crying but you felt the tears welling in your eyes as you slipped your shoes on. “We’ve met each other’s parents. I went to your brother’s birthday party, you bought my mom a birthday cake, I to- took you to my dad’s gravestone…” you say, your voice breaking at the last part of your sentence. 

“If that was casual, then I’m an idiot.” you say, tears falling from your eyes as you hurriedly leave his apartment, leaving him stunned as he stood staring at his front door left ajar. 

A choice you had to make even if you didn’t want to. 

Telling yourself that you couldn’t keep doing this with Heeseung even if you never stopped wanting him.

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

[mythicalninjas]

Hii! First I want to say I LOVE your fics. They're amazing!!

I saw your requests were open and came up with one. How about a jealous Raphael? Maybe reader was training with Leo once because Raph was busy. And he came in the dojo to see them laughing and getting along well, with reader who fell and fell on top of Leo they were just laughing it off. But Raph geta angry and drags reader away to fight about it and maybe some make up smut???

Awwn thank you! Happy to read that!

Rate/Warnings: +18, jealousy, anger, happy ending (make up smut)

Jealousy had always been a shadow that clung to Raphael like a second skin. It was something he tried to keep buried, but in moments like this, it reared its ugly head. The dim lighting of the dojo cast long shadows across the room, flickering slightly with every movement. Raph had been preoccupied all day, leaving his brothers to their training while he handled his own matters. But something had been gnawing at him, an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. It wasn’t until he wandered into the dojo that he realized why.

There you were, laughing—laughing—with Leonardo, the eldest brother. Sweat glistened on your brow, and the sound of your laughter echoed off the walls as you and Leo sparred. You had fallen, clearly tripped during your training session, landing squarely on top of him. For a moment, it was nothing but shared amusement, an easy, innocent moment between friends. But to Raphael, it felt like a dagger to the chest.

His blood boiled at the sight. The way you and Leo seemed so comfortable with each other, how naturally your body lay sprawled over his brother’s. The sight was too much. Without thinking, Raphael stormed into the room, his broad shoulders tense, and his face twisted into an expression that was far from friendly.

“Hey,” he growled, his voice low, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is goin’ on here?”

You scrambled off of Leo, confusion flashing in your eyes as you glanced between the two brothers. Leo, ever the calm and collected leader, simply raised an eyebrow, not yet catching onto what had set his hot-headed sibling off.

“We were just training, Raph,” you explained, brushing off the dust from your clothes. “You were busy, so Leo stepped in.”

“Training?” Raphael spat, his fists clenching at his sides. “Looked like somethin’ else to me.”

Before you could respond, Raphael grabbed your arm—not hard, but firm enough that it was clear he wasn’t asking. “We’re talkin’. Now.”

He dragged you out of the dojo without another word, Leo watching silently, his lips drawn into a thin line. The tension was thick as Raph pulled you into one of the side rooms, slamming the door behind him. The room was smaller, more intimate, and with each second, you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“What the hell was that, huh?” Raphael snapped, his emerald eyes flashing with hurt beneath his anger. His breathing was ragged, his broad chest rising and falling quickly. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t care?”

You stepped back slightly, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. “Raph, it was just training! Leo was just helping me out because you weren’t around.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I don’t like the idea of you ‘n him gettin’ all buddy-buddy when I’m not lookin’,” he muttered, though now there was something softer in his tone. The edge of insecurity that he tried so desperately to hide.

“Raph…” You sighed, moving closer, your hand finding his. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

He glared at the floor for a moment, jaw clenched tight, his large hand trembling slightly beneath yours. “I know, but… seeing you like that. With him. It just… it messed with my head.”

You could feel the heat of his jealousy simmering down, though the air between you was still charged. Your fingers slid up to his wrist, tracing the tense muscles there. "You don’t have to be jealous. You know I’m here for you, right?"

Raphael grunted, his body relaxing under your touch, but there was still an intense, lingering tension. Slowly, his eyes met yours, the fire in them shifting from anger to something else entirely. The air between you thickened, and you could feel his grip on your arm tighten, but this time, it wasn’t out of anger.

Without warning, he pulled you closer, his lips inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You think I’m lettin’ this go just like that?” His voice was a low rumble, full of heat and unresolved feelings.

And just like that, the conversation shifted, the jealousy morphing into something far more primal, something that needed release. In the heat of the moment, the frustration, the possessiveness—all of it—boiled over, and Raphael’s lips crashed into yours, full of a raw intensity that made your knees weak.

His hands were everywhere, pulling you close, desperate to remind you exactly who you belonged to. Every ounce of his jealousy poured into that kiss, a bruising, passionate clash of emotions as he pressed you against the wall, leaving no room for doubt about how much he wanted you.

And in that moment, as the world around you disappeared, you knew one thing for certain: no one could ever make you feel the way Raphael did.

"You're... mine.", he growled, sliding his hands down your thighs slowly. Very slow... The way it feels you couldn't describe, but your body can.

Tongues intertwining, hands exploring each other bodies, moans feeling the room. The red-clad huge turtle moves his waist foward, pressing his hardness agaist you. "It is not the en', honey."

[nightdrawz]

OH MY GOSSHHH!!!＼(≧▽≦)／

this is so freaking adorable!!1!!!! <:]

THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH ECLIPSE!!! have a star ur amazing ^_^⭐️⭐️⭐️

i looked further meheheh >:]

cat boi (=`ω´=)

What do I do with my time? Ah, I'll show you

I think this falls on the category of gifts? Here ya go @nightdrawz

Don't look further

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Hi, for the wip ask game, bff Soap Hurt Comfort? :') please and thank you!

for the wip ask game--lighter, sweeter bff!Soap. you're meeting him at the airport. he's coming home after being MIA. scared you to death.

this one is short, so here it is edited + posted in full. for the hurt/comfort girlies :)

600 words / 23

…

“Thought you couldna live without me, eh?”

You tackle Soap in a hug, tactical gear and all. "Shut up. Shut up. God, you're alive."

He laughs and returns the embrace. "Too stubborn to die. I thought I told you not to worry about me."

You grip the straps on the back of his vest and keep your face in his chest to hide the tears threatening to track down your cheeks. "You can't just say that and go MIA. They talked about putting your name on a memorial and everything."

"You know me. Always gotta do things my way."

"Your way is stupid."

He chuckles and rubs your back. "Yeah, I'm stupid. I've missed you, though. I haven't stopped thinkin' bout you."

"Really? Cause I..." The dam breaks. You can't stop the flood of hot, angry tears. "I missed you too." Then you start sobbing. God, it's embarrassing. But you refuse to let go of him.

He strokes your hair. "Hen, don't cry. Please. I'm here and I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm your man, aye?"

You shake your head, stubbornly refusing to move.

He rests his cheek on you. "I don't want you to be sad. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I love you."

Hearing him say that just makes your heart skip before the tears come out faster. You love him, too, more than a friend should. How could anyone not fall in love with him? He's Johnny. It's just that you were always too chickenshit to tell him. You thought you lost your chance.

"Come on, look at me."

"No," you mutter, refusing to unbury your face from his shirt. Scared to, maybe. "I don't want you to make it up to me. I want to stay here."

"That's no problem. We can stay here for however long. I just need to know you're not upset at me. I can't stand seein' you sad. Makes me sad."

You sniff. "You deserve it."

"Aye, I do. But what can I do to cheer you up'?"

"Nothing," you mumble into his chest. "I've been crying for two weeks because of you."

You try to collect yourself anyway, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. His squadmates stand a little ways away from the terminal, looking curious at this scene you're causing. This isn't exactly how you wanted to meet them. You're supposed to be Johnny's cool best friend, not a weepy mess.

Johnny recaptures your attention, wiping away a stray tear track with his thumb. "You've been cryin' about me?"

You shove him, but it's light and there's no anger in it. "Of course I have, asshole, you're my best friend. They said you were MIA. Why wouldn't I cry?"

He grins. "But I'm here now, though. Could use a wee bit of comforting myself. You mind?"

You sniff, nodding as you press your sleeves into your eyes one more time to dry them. He's right. He's the one who's been away from home for a month. Probably endured some draconian shit, missing for two weeks and all. But the way he's looking at you through those blue eyes of his... it's not fair how easy it is to fall under his spell again.

"Yeah. I guess. What do you want? More fawning and crying?"

He laughs softly and pulls you into another tight hug. He presses a kiss to your temple, and you have to act like it doesn't make your heart explode into tiny pieces. He rests his chin on the top of your head, content to keep you here, totally enveloped in his frame. "Mm, that'll do. Just to start."

...

wip ask game / more Soap / masterlist tag

[sanguineterrain]

Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.

No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤

Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.

jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)

****

"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."

Beeeep!

"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."

You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.

You want your best friend back.

"Okay. Call me when you can."

You hang up and pocket your phone.

The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.

If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.

Jason had stilled, expression cold.

I don't owe you anything.

Your voice had turned wobbly then.

Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!

He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.

You're right. You deserve normal.

You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.

But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.

Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.

What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?

All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.

Screw this. You're going to his apartment.

It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.

A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"

This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.

You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.

"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"

You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.

A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.

That instantly draws their attention.

"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"

You run.

You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.

You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—

Wham!

You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.

White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.

Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.

"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.

"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"

Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.

Fuck your luck.

The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.

He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.

Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.

"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"

"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.

You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.

"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.

You start to cry, edging backward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"

You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.

Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.

"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.

"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.

Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.

"J—"

"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.

"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.

"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."

Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."

"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."

Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.

"Jay—"

"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod emphatically.

"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.

"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."

His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"

He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.

"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."

Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.

"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."

"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."

[dewdr0pz-alt]

goin' back to old yazoo 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹

summary: headcanons about Vox with an old-fashioned reader (like Alastor)

warnings: Vox is a bit of a stalker, mentions of Valentino, one mention of slavery from Valentino (talking about the reader's time), reader is an overlord (not really a warning but just a heads-up), Vox being a little jealous

a/n: hello, readers (i need to think of a name for you guys lol)! i know this wasn't requested, but i played Bad Parenting recently and the intro song has been stuck in my head for days 😭

tags: (as always, just tagging a few people i think would be interested in this, please let me know if you would like to be on or off of the taglist!) @o-kye @zuuriell @strangleetomz@ax-y10 @stars-around-scars-collective@blu3-lemonad3@myheartticks@mochamuff1n@unbeleevable@danvstheworld @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @average-vibe @back-totheoldhouse @prettysinners @lovevxle

(listen to this while reading if you want!)

When Vox first saw you at an overlord meeting, he was pissed. Was there another one like Alastor?

He took a little bit of a liking to you when you retorted back at him when he made a passive-aggressive comment about you.

^^ "How'd you even get here? You probably don't even own a cellphone or a car with your old-timey ass. I bet you don't even know what those are." "First of all, cars were invented in the 1920s, so I know of their existence. Second, just because I'm old-fashioned doesn't mean I'm stupid or incapable. Being a tech-savvy businessman doesn't make you smart; I'd say all that screen usage has fried what's left of your brain, Mr. Vox."

You two eventually became friends and even let him ramble about his technology (even though it took a little explaining)!

I think he'd realize at some point that you weren't as interested about technology as he was and would be fine with letting you talk about things from your era.

If you two started dating, at first he might try to make you dress in a more "modern" way to better suit his brand, but soon enough he'd just let you dress however you wanted (he would love it if you had a blue flapper dress 🤭)

He wouldn't try to explain security cameras to you (he wouldn't want you to know that he watches you whenever you leave the house), which he claims is "just to make sure you're safe"

I think Vox would eventually become a know-it-all about your era

^^ "So like...wasn't there slavery in the 20s, cariño?" "Actually (🤓☝️), Val, slavery was abolished in 1865." "I was asking Y/N, Voxxy." "I don't care. Get educated."

He would for sure dance with you to vinyl records of your favorite songs to give you a feel of nostalgia <3

[mykneeshurt]

Greed

Title picture by the talented @loneghostwolf

Graves x AFAB!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, explicit nature, p in v, f in v, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, f in a, implied rough sex, implied breathplay (please tell me if anything is missing)

————-

The series of events that led you to having Commander Graves fingers buried deep inside your cunt, again, were all but a mystery. Bent over his knee, trousers haphazardly discarded on the floor, panties ripped, you were a drooling mess. His middle and ring fingers pumped your tight hole with little regard. Graves wanted one, thing and one thing only.

To punish you.

To punish you for your insolence. Showing him up in front of the General. That would not do.

This wasn’t your first punishment by his hand, oh no. He loved nothing more than making you squirm, writhe, convulse from overstimulation. If there was one thing in this world he craved, it was the sound of your pretty voice begging him to stop. Pleading with him as he collected your orgasms like fine gems.

He needed them.

He was greedy.

‘C’mon baby, c’mon baby, c’mon baby’ he panted as he felt your cunt clench around him. Muffled whimpers at his feet as you bit down on the fleshy part of your hand. Trying your hardest to stifle your moans of pure bliss. His thumb brushed your clit, firm and with purpose, pushing you over the edge. Your back arched, pulling your chest away from his legs, a firm hand quickly pushed you back down. ‘Oh no, you can give me another one sweetheart. I ain’t done yet.’

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, you’d given him two powerful orgasms already. Graves never told you how many he wanted, he just took them instead. And he always got what he wanted.

‘I can’t … please … I can’t’ you whimpered again, voice strained and hoarse. His calloused hand softly trailed against the small of your back, electricity shot through your spine. He could be gentle when he wanted to be. But that was rare, you were his to use, his to punish.

A harsh smack on your ass cheek swiftly reminded you who was in charge. He watched as the muscle jiggled from the force of his hand. A handprint soon becoming visible. Marking you.

‘I want more sweetheart. You’re gonna give it to me. Maybe then I’ll reward you with my cock.’ His voice was harsh, demanding, patronising. Trailing a finger along your creamy slit he slid his fingers back in, before adding a third. Gasping at the stretch you clutched at his ankles, desperately trying to ground yourself. ‘Such a pretty pussy baby’ he cooed as he began thrusting his fingers once more. The stretch ached and burnt, pushing ever so slightly past the line of pleasure.

Blood rushed to your head as his muscular thighs pressed into your diaphragm, restricting your breathing. You gasped for air as he continued his assault on your cunt. Eyes rolling back in your head as you neared a third. ‘That’s it, be a good girl, cum on my fingers, keep goin’ he praised, his breath singed your skin with his words. The sound of your cunt was sinful, only spurring him on further.

He felt your cunt begin to tighten again, it didn’t take much this time. As you fell into oblivion strangled cries left your throat. ‘That’s it, just like that, fuck baby’ he whispered as he watched you pulsate around him.

Removing his fingers he placed them on his tongue, groaning at your taste. He felt your ribs shake against his thighs, gasping for any oxygen you could find. ‘Oh sweetheart, you tired? Shame, cause I ain’t finished.’

He pulled you upright before forcing you backwards onto the desk, he watched as your chest rose and fell. Gulping air into your oxygen deprived lungs, beads of sweat gathered at your collar bones, you looked fucking beautiful. As a small reward he placed his lips onto yours, tasing yourself you deepened the kiss. Rolling your tongue against his as he grunted into your mouth.

His kissed and nipped at your jaw, your neck, your collar bones all the way back to your cunt. He pressed his tongue against your extremely sensitive clit, causing your hips to jerk. Wrapping his arm around your hips he pinned you to the desk. Digging your nails into his forearms you left crescent indentations in his skin. He hissed at the sting.

His tongue was warm, wet, as he grazed it teasingly over your clit, again and again. He groaned into you, savouring every morsel of your arousal on his tongue. Alternating between your clit and hole he sucked, nipped, kissed, licked every part of you. His hot breath fanned over your pussy adding a new layer of pleasure.

Arching your back you gripped at your breast, head thrown back, mouth open at his ministrations. He pushed his middle finger against your entrance as you whined, before teasing your ass hole with his ring finger. His licks were languid, sloppy as he filled your holes with his fingers, you felt full.

Lifting your head you caught his gaze, staring at you from the depths of your folds. His blue eyes looked more like a void as his pupils were blown out with pure desire. Muffled groans melted into your core as he developed his own rhythm, reading your body as he orchestrated another orgasm. Tears fell from your eyes as the pleasure punched you full force in the gut. Every sense now on high alert, your vision blurred and your hearing became nothing but static.

‘Fu … god … I can’t, Graves please, fuck’ you stammered, tripping over every word. Every syllable. Your skin ached and burnt at his touch, complete and utter overstimulation. You felt him smile against your sensitive clit, his breath hot and misty. ‘Goddamn sweetheart’ he purred.

Standing above you splayed out on his desk he tapped your pussy with his hand, causing you to jolt. ‘Since you’ve been such a good girl, seems only fit you get my cock. Wha’ya think baby? Think you can handle one more?’ His rubbed his hands along your thighs as you panted, trying to even out your breathing. This would be orgasm number four. Fuck.

Before you could even answer him he thrust his cock into your hole, making you arch your entire back off the desk. The wood creaked from the weight place on top of it. Hoisting your thigh over his hip he deepened his reach, his cock penetrating even deeper. But fuck did it feel so good. ‘Fuuuuck’ he growled, ‘got no idea what this pussy does to me sweetheart. Fuckin perfect.’ He fell into a punishing pace, watching as you thighs bounced around him.

Your brows knitted together as he filled you completely, resting your head in the crux of the elbow you panted into your skin. Your breasts moved rhythmically under your t-shirt as he slammed into you. ‘Phillip … Jesus … shit’ you whined, fighting for breath. He tapped your clit again ‘that’s right baby, say my name.’ He gritted his teeth as he felt himself edging closer and closer to his climax.

‘Fuck, I’m gonna cum … fuck!’ You whined, screwing your eyes shut. ‘Cum on this cock, come on, fuck baby’ he drawled. The sound that came from your throat could only be described as pornographic. The coil in your abdomen snapped as your orgasm crashed over you. ‘Shit, look at that’ he hummed, eyes transfixed on your cunt. The faint sound of gushing fought its way through the white noise of your orgasm. It was only then you realised you’d squirted all over his cock.

Pulling out he swiped his tongue along your slit, slurping up your juices before spitting it back onto your clit. He continued fucking you on his desk, your completely blissed out body led limp. Gripping onto your hips he dug his finger tips into the soft skin, his thrusts became slower, deeper, more purposeful. Dropping his head backwards he panted and moaned as he released hot ropes of cum into your used cunt.

You looked up at him through hooded lids, faint trails of mascara ran down your face. Still inside you he bent down and placed a warm kiss onto your lips. ‘Goddamn sweetheart, such a good fuckin girl for me’ he muttered against your mouth. You kissed him back, still panting and dizzy for the experience.

Little did you know he way already thinking about the next time.

———

A/N - I’ve never written for Graves before lmao … can you tell?