#I got hooked unintentionally

[captsirknight]

Just binged debut or die, what do you mean there are no translated chapters past 200

[earlyspringtranscendence]

ik im talking a lot abt the books im reading rn (this is due to the fact that after eons of not having the time or energy i am once again reading books) but theydies i can happily announce that after 2 unsuccessful weapons and wielders books soulbrand has truly captured my enamoration once again i’m kissing keras lovingly and tenderly (the only way to kiss him)

[chosolala]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jjk characters in relationships

here’s just some cute little headcannons on how i think the jujutsu kaisen guys would treat you when they’re in a relationship with u :]

characters: yuji, megumi, yuta, inumaki

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

yuji itadori

he is constantly trying to show off and impress you every chance he gets

probably lifts his shirt a lot because ‘he gets hot’ but really just wants to show off his abs

his hands always somehow find their way to your butt

he wants to be with you 24/7

he loves studying with you because he knows you guys are gonna do everything but study, he always brings snacks for you guys

laughing with you 24/7

always bragging and showing you off to todo

he secretly wants your approval over everything he does, you mean the most to him

your parents, siblings, dogs, grandparents everyone loves him, he’s the biggest sweetheart

super clingy, take that as you will

whenever you guys both have free time he takes you out to grab fast food

he loves blowing you kisses it’s so cute

he makes those capcut tiktok edits of you and sends them to you

he is answering your texts right away, even if he’s on a mission he’ll be texting you with one hand and fighting with the other

you #1 meat rider, he takes your side on everything even if he knows you’re wrong you guys are sinking together

megumi fushiguro

unintentionally apart of the sassy man apocalypse

even though you guys are dating he gets super flustered and nervous around you

like he’s scared to be too flirty or do anything too risky incase he scares you away

it takes a lot for you to crack that hard shell of his and get him to express any emotion

when he’s angry or upset after missions he doesn’t talk to you at all and just goes mute or hides away in his room for a while

secretly tries to impress you (like subtly)

he’s pretty shy about relationship stuff at first, he fumbles over his words and blushes a lot when he’s trying to be romantic at first

if someone is less that polite to you he will literally send them home with their tail between their legs

very protective over you

is secretly scared that you’ll leave him for someone better than him since he isn’t the best with communication in general and has a hard time expressing his feelings

constantly trying to make you love him more with small acts of service everyday or even just straight up buying you stuff

doesn’t really like physical touch that much but he tries his best for you, he’s like really stiff when you try and cuddle him

yuta okkotsu

his camera roll is just pictures of you

he is head cutie patootie

sometimes when you both can’t sleep you have like the craziest deepest convos ever and he’ll just drop the darkest lore on you

if you aren’t a sorcerer he tries to keep you as far away from that as possible

compliments you all the time even if you’re just waking up

he gives the warmest hugs ever and he always smells so good

he isn’t too touchy but he loves walking with his arm around your waist or shoulder

kisses you on the head/forehead all the time

you guys have movie nights all the time, he always sets it up so cute for you guys with drinks and snacks and blankets for you

he wouldn’t get jealous but sometimes he overthinks

he loves when you praise him,

hes always blushing with you, you make him nervous but in a cute way

he loves telling you about small things in his life, like he gets so excited to tell you about his funny dream or about the cute stray dog he followed to the city

he loves doing your favorite activities with you

he loves sitting between ur thighs and letting you play w his hair

toge inumaki

he’s the biggest troll, like he’s always messing around with u

he’s fairly touchy in public, he usually always has his arm around you

he doesn’t really get jealous but he gives death stares when guys flirt w you in public

he got you hooked onto all his favorite video games and you guys play online together

that boy keeps you FED. bringing you snacks and food 24/7

he loves packing lunches for you

you and him are married on his tomadachi life island

he always has funny comebacks and replies when you text

he likes carrying you around on his back, piggy back rides

he’s lowkey a freak, he’s always texting u something crazy just out of the blue

he bought you guys matching necklaces

he’s always pampering you, he loves to take care of you

he loves holding your hand, if you guys fall asleep together your fingers are always intertwined

[screampied]

hii i just wanted to say that your writing is SO GOOD!! i saw that your requests are open so i’d love to see a hiromi (jjk) x reader fanfic because i haven’t seen nearly enough smut fanfics of him 😔💔 would lowkey love to see soft!dom hiromi or switch!hiromi but it’s your choice 🙏🏻🙏🏻 thanks for reading this, obviously if you’re not comfy with it then feel free to ignore this req!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 hiromi talking you through your first orgasm

warnings. fem! reader, soft dom! hiromi, cowgirl, praise, overstim, mdni.

an. thank YOUUUU SM !! <3

“hey, sweetheart don’t be shy,” he murmurs against your neck. you intake a sharp breath with your arms thrown around him. he stares at you with a soft smile, brushing a thumb against your cheek before planting a wet kiss against your mouth. “you’re close, aren’t you?”

“yeah…” you whined, burying your face into the crook of his name. higuruma lowly chuckles against your ear, he’s stuffed deep inside you, and you’re barely moving your hips—you shook, feeling the bundle of nerves all throughout your body commence into a sudden electrifying surge.

albeit, he was very much patient with you.

you melted into his embrace, gradually rocking your hips, and he softly drags your waist further against him. a raspy grunt leaving his mouth before he purrs. “mhm…easy, there we go, good girl. don’t rush. just like that. lean into me, baby. i got you.”

his words warmed its way into your heart and you let off a moan from the utter thickness of his dick stretching out your walls.

despite his girth easily outlining its way inside of your pussy, it felt good. he finds it cute the way you tremble against his touch, your legs trembling above him. “h—hiromi,” you panted, your voice being a bit more whiney — the coldness of his watch material dances against your skin, and it makes you shudder in desperate rapture. “i feel it, ‘s gonna.. ‘m gonna cum.”

“you are,” he whispers, kissing the inner part of your neck. “so be a good girl and give it to me, okay? nice ‘n slow, focus on your breathing for me baby.”

your hips bucked and bucked against higuruma in free will. eyes rolling, nearly drooling. you don’t think you’ve ever experienced a feeling like this. intimate, sure but you’ve always found it hard to please yourself. let alone find it embarrassing to even think of touching yourself.

alas, the moment you asked your lover, higuruma.. he was more than happy to comply. he wanted you to feel good, and that you were.

your mouth tasted a bit salty, and your nails dug into the thick fabric of his lazily half-on tux. higuruma smelt enchanting.

his cologne was just something you could never get enough of. the way he softly ghosts his fingertips against your bare ass.

so soft, it tickled for a brief moment before he brings his fingers towards your waist, outlining your curves — in his eyes, you were nothing more than a perfect girl to him.

“such a pretty body,” he utters, a groan nearly slipping past his lips. your head remained hidden into the side of his neck, gingerly nipping against his skin and he chuckles. “—and an even more playful girl.”

“hiromi, it feels— feels…”

you whimper, languidly leaning into his touch. each time your words got cut off by the sensations of your own cunt, your mind went fuzzy.

you could barely comprehend anything. buried into the hilt, he’s sinking into you with such gentle yet full throttle. “i know, baby. i feel it too. you’re getting me all…sensitive myself.”

his words made you throb, the way he’d pitch his voice and give you a teasing grin — you studied his facial expressions.

his pretty hooked nose that you’d kiss all over, the small dimples stretching near the corners of his lips unintentionally whenever he spoke a sentence. it always went on, higuruma treated you like a doll.

“just let go for me, princess. don’t gotta be shy to get a little filthy around me.” he whispers, kissing near the outer lobe of your ear.

you left off a soft moan against his ear, and the hairs beneath his neck stood up just from your voice. you felt your thigh start to shake just a bit as you steadily rutted your hips against him again and again and again. “oh, what—? you tryin' to give me a kiss, baby?”

he chuckles, watching you tilt your face forward, just missing his lips due to your eyes closed and he smiles. “come here, princess.”

you moaned into his mouth, swathing your arms around him and his lips curve into a warm smile. you tasted sweet…

indescribable yet entirely sugary. higuruma’s tongue grazes against your own before you started to jolt and shake, feeling it. he runs a hand down your back to soothe you before you’re cumming, whining.

higuruma shushes you, parting your legs for a brief moment before uttering once he moves his lips away.

“i know, i know. relax,” and he presses you against his chest to kiss your forehead. “good girl. such a good pretty girl,” and he softly strokes the back of your head — dick still twitching inside of you. you’re murmuring inaudible nothings of straight babbles and he smiles to himself. “that was just one orgasm, i wonder how’d you be if i pull another one out of you, princess.”

[rafesangelita]

Omg I’m in need of a fic inspired in that gift of them doing in public and not caring about anyone around!!! Maybe like in a party in front of their friends idkkk

warnings: public sex, fingering, slight praise

“rafe, they’re gonna see!” you laughed, grabbing hold of his wrist as he hiked your dress up just enough to slip his hand inside your panties. “so? since when have you cared?” he kissed you, groaning to himself when his fingers glided easily through your folds. your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed light, teasing circles around your clit, both of you laughing when you accidentally let out a moan.

even though you two were in a secluded corner, and the music was too loud for anyone to hear what you and your boyfriend were doing, you couldn’t stop yourself from covering your mouth to suppress the sounds coming out of it. “you look so fucking pretty, baby. ‘wanted to do this since i saw you walk down the stairs in this.” he whispered, giving your cunt a slap. you were wearing rafe’s favorite mini dress, pink and lacy with ribbons as the straps.

rafe moved your hand away from your face, his fingers hooking under your chin to pull you in a searing kiss. “feels s’good.” you whimpered against his lips, your hips unintentionally grinding against his hand. “yo, rafe!” he smiled when he saw your cheeks flush as topper’s voice neared the two of you. “m’busy!” he shouted back, his fingertips teasing your entrance. “s-shit, my bad..” you giggled as topper scrambled away, visibly at a loss for words.

“you gonna take my fingers like the perfect little slut you are?” you nodded frantically, wanting so bad to feel his digits fill you up already. “yes, please give it to me.” rafe made you meet his gaze as he inserted his fingers inside your aching cunt. “ah, fuck,” he drawled out. rafe will never get used to the feeling of your pussy wrapping around him, whether it was his fingers or his cock. “you always feel like heaven.” he trailed kisses on the underside of your jaw, your hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck.

your thighs clamped around his wrist when he curled the pads of his fingertips against that soft spot inside of you. “gonna make you cum in front of all these people, is that what you want?” he spoke through gritted teeth, the palm of his hand now meeting your clit. “yes.. ‘wanna cum for you,” you took your bottom lip between your teeth as he picked up his pace, your legs trembling from the penetration. soon, you had to bury your face in rafe’s chest to muffle your moans as you came around his digits.

“oh, my god,” you shook, balling his shirt in your fist. rafe didn’t overstimulate you the way he wanted to, deciding he’d do that at home instead. “shh, i got you baby.” he pecked the crown of your head, his hand moving out from under your dress. you sighed, stealing a glance at kelce and topper who were side eyeing you and rafe as they took sips from their solo cups. “they saw us.” you laughed softly, hiding your face from the view of the party.

“eh,” he rubbed soothing cirlces on your back, “let’s get home, i’m hard as a fucking rock right now.”

[machveil]

Imagine König says aua (ouch in german, sounds like owah/aawaa)

it would be so cute :D

my heart— ough

König is a big guy, there’s a lot of limbs to manage. he’s prone to forgetting how tall and wide he is, bumping against doorframes and stubbing his toes are normal occurrences for him. usually he’ll just cuss under his breath, grumble when he bumps against the edge of a table

König doesn’t make much noise when he gets hurt - at least, when it’s something he can walk off. but, once you’ve been around him enough you start to take note of him bumping into things. he really is a bull in a china shop, unintentionally, but all the same. he’s elbowed a wall, kneed a chair, gotten hooked on door handles

it isn’t until he forgets to duck under a doorframe that you hear him make a louder noise, “Aua— Verdammt!”. smacked in the forehead, he’s got his palm held up to his head as he takes a step back, hissing at the sting. he only turns around to face you when he hears your soft laughter. eyes squinting and nose scrunched from the mild pain, he grumbles, “Was? Why are you laughing?”

maybe it was because his voice got a little high pitched, or maybe it was just the action itself, but it has you in a fit of giggles, “I’m sorry, it’s just— I don’t know, s’just funny.”, you chuckle, smiling a little wider when he scoffs. “Very funny, sure. You’re so immatur— gah!”, it only makes you laugh harder when he turns to walk away and accidentally bangs his head again, too caught up from talking to you to remember to duck again

[hiraethwrote]

flufftober: matching jewelry

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader summary: playfully putting one of his rings on your own finger, suguru instantly falls in love with the sight — the idea of you carrying a piece of him with you wherever you go cw: fluff, banter, established relationship, just overall wholesome, reader is rather feminine w longer hair, no use of y/n word count: 1.3k

Suguru found it cute, how your fingers so mindlessly played with any piece of jewelry he was wearing.

Laying with your back rested against his chest, eyes locked on the movie, he suspected you weren’t even aware of how you were slowly twisting the metal around his fingers.

Fingertips moving from one to the next, back and forth, before you swiftly slipped one off his index to flip it diligently between your own digits — then slipping it on your own index, eyes still glued on the screen.

Though way too big for you, it was nice to see something so characteristic about him worn on you — almost as if you were labelled his.

Your subconscious continued to steer your fingers, moving onto the next jewelry on his hand, slipping that off as well. “You need your own rings?”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry,” you giggled, tilting your head up to look at him. “Just like ‘em, you know.” You didn’t remove his ring, though. No, instead you let your naked hand move up his chest to fidget with his necklace, delicately twirling it between the pillows of your fingers.

“Suits you,” he hummed.

“Yeah?” You lifted your hand up in front of you, spreading all your fingers to take in the sight of his ring, crookedly resting on your hand due to the size of it. “Not entirely my style.”

That’s when you finally took it off, Suguru letting out a small sigh of disappointment when you placed it back on his hand. “Well, I liked it on you.”

“Thanks,” you hummed, turning over to wrap your arms around his torso and nuzzle your cheek against his firm chest, attention turning back to the movie. “I like them on you. Really sexy.”

Two strong fingers grabbed your plush cheeks to angle your head back up to look at him. “Sexy, huh?” His alluring smirk instantly causing your skin to grow hot, still so easily turned speechless by him.

“Mhmm, you got nice hands. The rings just add to that,” you said with a shy smile. “This too,” your hand finding his necklace again to tap carefully at it.

“Thanks,” his voice rumbles comfortably, the conversation eventually dying down and your attention back on the movie — until you quietly drifted off into a light slumber, your breathing settling into a steady and soft pace, arms still clinging around his body.

Suguru, however, couldn’t quite shake the sweet little image of your hand hovering in the air, wearing his ring.

It was a simple scenery, but the idea of you carrying a token that belonged to him set strong root in his brain — and he really liked it. Without it being in-your-face, it was such an easy way of proving who you belonged to.

That’s when the wheels started to churn, hooked on the idea of a part of him being with you wherever you went.

“Suguru, you listening?”

He wasn’t — he had, unintentionally, zoned out of the conversation long ago, eyeing any part of you that would look good with a piece of precious metal — your ears, your neck, your fingers, your wrists, damn even your ankles. Anywhere one could imagine silver, gold or any other metal, he did.

“Sorry, lost in thought.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your cute little smile dancing on your lips, leaning forward on your elbow, chin resting in the palm of your hand.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he said, also leaning forward to mirror your position, flashing a sly smirk.

You quirked an eyebrow. “How ominous of you.”

“I’m an ominous guy.” You couldn’t help bur react with a huff, rolling your eyes as you fell back in your seat. “I beg your pardon?” He asked, slight offence seeping through his amusement.

“You’re not half as ominous as you think you are, baby,” he watched closely as your dainty fingers tucked a stray hair behind your ear, once again bringing focus to the lack of jewelry decorating it. Maybe earrings? “You’re a brooding guy.”

Now it was Suguru’s turn to huff, a little too smitten by you to be genuinely offended — especially when you had that oh-so-beautiful glint in your eyes that was always present. He thought a piece of jewelry would only amplify the feature.

“I’m not brooding,” he nearly whined, earning him an amused glare from you, the faintest smile showing.

“I rest my case,” your voice sweet as sugar, to which he only rolled his eyes.

Eying the black squared box, the logo of some expensive jeweler sprayed across the glossy exterior — rummaging your mind if you were somehow the one who had forgot a special date.

Anniversary? No, that was four months ago.

Birthday? Of course not.

Holiday? Not the last time you checked.

“What did you do?” There was a hint of sarcasm to your lilt, narrowing your eyes at him, unable to think of any reason for the sudden gift. You were only given a familiar eye roll.

“Need a reason to give my girlfriend a gift?” He pinched his eyebrows together, tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek.

“Hmm, suspicious.”

“If you don’t want it-“

“No, no, no, I’m kidding,” you rushed out, grabbing his wrists as he had started to pull away, with the box in hand.

“Thought so,” he chuckled quietly as he slid the box over in your hand.

You let out a deep breath, glancing at his face one last time to see if there was anything to reveal in his expression — nothing. With the tips of your fingers, you carefully opened the box with a light click, exposing a beautiful, chain bracelet — but the middle section was a delicate, square plaque, leaning in closer to reveal two small letters engraved; S. G.

With mouth slightly agape, you lifted it out of the box to get a better look at the handiwork, clearly a high quality jewelry made by a skilled individual. “Suguru, it’s beautiful,” you breathed, tilting your head up to look at him again, “thank you.”

“So you like it?” His voice was so warm, low and calm, filled with compassion — same compassion you so clearly saw swim in his eyes when he looked at you.

“Yes, thank you,” you shifted in your seat to come closer, your knees placed between his as his big hands rested on your thighs. “So what’s the occasion?”

He shrugged casually, “there’s no occasion. Just thought you’d look nice with some jewelry. Besides-“ he cut himself off, hands leaving you to reach down under his seat, pulling out yet another box, identical to the one he'd already gifted you.

Confusion graced your expression, narrowing your eyebrows at him as you hesitated to grab the next box. You wanted to ask, but the look he gave told you to ‘get on with it’. Thumbs clicking open the lid, revealing an identical bracelet, only bigger.

“I don’t understand,” you sighed.

“Take a closer look.” You did as you were told, picking up the second bracelet to observe it closer, yet again revealing engraved letters — but these were your initials.

Once reality set in, happy tears started to form in your eyes, fingers brushing lightly over the familiar letters before meeting his gaze again.

“You got us matching bracelets?” You chuckled lightly, as he nodded along to every word.

“This means-“ he started, carefully pulling his bracelet out of your fingers to fasten it effortlessly around his left wrist. “We’re with each other, wherever we go.“ Moving on to grab your bracelet, tenderly lacing it around your left wrist. Once locked in place, his finger found itself under your chin, slowly guiding your face closer to his.

“Thank you,” you sniffled quietly.

“You like it?” Feeling his hot breath fan against your lips.

“I love it,” tilting your head forward to let your nose brush against his.

tags @madaqueue @sad-darksoul

a/n aaah second and final flufftober fic... words be wording in this one. now give suguru some love, he deserves it <3

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[almostempty]

Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,  

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY  @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh) 

AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 4: The more you suffer

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe. 

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice. 

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question. 

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling. 

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes. 

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :) 

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no. 

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more 

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not. 

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response. 

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease. 

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door. 

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy. 

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud. 

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging. 

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible. 

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new. 

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right? 

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type. 

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach. 

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees. 

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason. 

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance. 

“Good.” 

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship. 

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor. 

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison. 

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter. 

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.  

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes. 

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire. 

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious? 

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.  

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks. 

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really? 

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date? 

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy. 

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here. 

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look. 

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different. 

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.  

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center. 

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly. 

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes! 

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot. 

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost. 

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt. 

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access. 

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed. 

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight. 

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.” 

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public. 

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade. 

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor. 

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.” 

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans. 

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.  

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air. 

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on. 

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide. 

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off. 

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot. 

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you. 

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far. 

“Here?” you ask him softly.  

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress. 

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you.  He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?” 

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking. 

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure. 

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release. 

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again. 

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours. 

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right. 

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin. 

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off. 

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.” 

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free. 

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you. 

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks. 

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle. 

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out. 

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue. 

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.” 

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth. 

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter. 

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause. 

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess. 

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?” 

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out. 

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door. 

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text. 

Joel: Miss me? 

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something. 

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark. 

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley. 

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.” 

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home. 

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space. 

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off. 

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you– 

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare. 

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now. 

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him. 

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls. 

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin. 

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?” 

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose? 

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?” 

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed? 

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him. 

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed. 

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.” 

A tremor runs through your body. 

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in. 

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons. 

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you. 

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear. 

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.” 

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway. 

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers. 

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel. 

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw. 

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic. 

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street. 

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up. 

“What did you just say, Joel?” 

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you. 

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?” 

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you. 

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.” 

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.” 

“Baby–” 

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud. 

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention. 

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?” 

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue. 

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?” 

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore. 

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin. 

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?” 

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid. 

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.  

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel. 

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle. 

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides. 

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos. 

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.” 

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you. 

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side. 

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?” 

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face. 

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–” 

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions. 

“Followed us?” you’re curious. 

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words. 

“An ex?” 

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.” 

“So he is dangerous?” 

“No.” Only to my self-respect. 

“You want me to take care of him?” 

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.” 

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time? 

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood. 

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet. 

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing. 

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman? 

Your face wrinkles in confusion. 

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number. 

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.” 

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod. 

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.” 

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does. 

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave. 

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress. 

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?” 

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes. 

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.” 

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard. 

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin. 

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you. 

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically. 

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks. 

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse. 

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer. 

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.  

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.  

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?” 

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away. 

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts. 

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t. 

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead. 

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder. 

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?” 

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you. 

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation. 

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.  

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath. 

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t. 

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap. 

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself. 

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head. 

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works. 

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more. 

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.” 

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you. 

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips. 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men? 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt. 

Oh. 

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more. 

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.” 

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity. 

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.” 

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face. 

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot. 

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders. 

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out. 

“Make me yours,” you incite. 

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed.  He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath. 

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck. 

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both. 

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up. 

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets. 

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing. 

if you'd like to be on a taglist please let me know !

[noira-l]

𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: you woke up, realising how handsome "your husband" is, it made you hot.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: really suggestive, swearing, description of the body, mention of male anatomy, reader is really kinda horny.

author's note: well, I'm ovulating, I'm (not) sorry.

Okey, what the fuck.

“Morning.” Satoru yawns, stretching. He sits down on the bed back to you. He lifts his arms up, tensing every muscle on this occasion. You watch as his back tips up, showing the years of work he has put into each of his training. You can see a pair of bright pink scars, on his pearly skin, that haven't exactly healed from all the fights he's had.

You followed his sizable hands with your eyes, down to his broad shoulders and a slight taper at the waist, which led lower…

Wait, what are you doing?

Did you just bite your lip? Looking at HIM?

Well, you wanted to slap yourself to get your senses back. Which, as it turns out, you did, unconsciously, because Satoru turned his head slightly toward you, with a smile at which, if you had been standing, your knees would have bent.

“You okay?” one eyebrow raised in a questioning gesture, smile widened, eyes sparkling with a beautiful radiance, profile appeared breathtaking. His gaze slid over your body. You got shivers.

“Yes!” you said it quite loudly, grunted "Good morning.’" you tried to smile as you always do. Although you are sure that your lip trembled.

You ran away with your gaze unable to look at him longer.

He rose energetically from the mattress and walked over to the wardrobe, still with his back to you. You clenched your fists on the blanket. In this angle, his silhouette looked even better, the light coming into the room created shadows on his body that accentuated every bit of his sculpted features. As if he was a sculpture, made by God to be admired, and you fell into a trap when your gaze landed on him.

You unintentionally watched his snowy hair, his broad shoulders, his hands that had just opened his wardrobe and… only now did you see how low his shorts hung on his hips, exposing protruding hip bones.

Oh shit.

He looked so good. His body looked so… delicious.

You were reminded of how sometimes those same bones poke into your back when you're sleeping. And sometimes, wanting to move away from them, you'll rub against something else, you always ignore it..

But...

Occasionally, when your shirt rises a little, you are able to feel his sculpted belly, the warm skin on your back making you shiver on contact. The hot, sweet breath on your neck that was intoxicating and his hands on your waist, holding you close to his hips.

You clenched your thighs together and swallowed nervously. You woke up in just such a position. Pressed tightly against something poking from his shorts. To something that felt hot and hard to you. Something that promised to give you pleasure when you lost yourself in it.

It would be enough, if maybe you just returned his barely existing rubbing against your ass. It would have been enough, if you'd lifted your leg hooking over his hip, opened yourself to him. It would have been enough, if you just said his name, with the lust you now feel inside.

You shake your head. Come on, what are you thinking.

"Hmm…" hummed. He turned to face you with two t-shirts in his hands "I don't know if I should wore white or blue, what do you think?" he looked quite thoughtful, as he alternately applied both colours to his body for you to see.

You think about how someone can have an eight-pack. And why is it him. Your gaze slid across your shirtsleeves and down his belly, to hips and to the barely visible line of white hair that led to…

You started to feel hot.

It wasn't the first time you'd woken up to such a sight, you knew the male anatomy and it had never do anything to you. So why now can you swear you're drooling at the sight of it?

You didn't hear him call you, at all. Mind still too focused on how his muscles lined up on his body, and what they would be like when you really touch them. He put both shirts back on the bedside table.

You let out a surprised sigh, so quiet, almost imperceptible, as he crawled on the bed towards you. Sizable hands moved across the bedding, showing how beautifully they could clench on you. You followed him with your eyes, breathing began to be uneven.

"Sweetie." his closeness and nickname brought warmth to your cheeks. He was so close. Close enough that you could feel his breath. Your gaze wandered to his pretty lips, pink, plump, just begging to be tasted. You could feel yourself beginning to tremble, like your body was on fire.

Please, do something...

"White or Blue?" crystal eyes gazing into yours. Glittering centres shimmered and turned in his half-closed eyes from sleeping. A face decorated with a slight smile, warm to your response.

Please..

"White." muttered, somehow swallowing nerowly the gulp that had appeared in your throat.

The smile only grew bigger. Revealing toothy grin, which often made you irresistible to him.

"I felt that way too, heh." he got up from the bed, taking this t-shirt and putting the other one away in the wardrobe.

You need to run. Now.

You got out of bed, walking over to the dresser to get your things, wanting to change in the bathroom. Legs felt soft and trembbling, heart beating very hard, breath uneven. Managed to get everything ready.

Just as you were about to grab the door handle you heard next to you

"E~? Where you going? I still need help with my pants too." could hear his smile in that statement.

You shut the door loud, hiding how much your cheeks burned with heat.

★ --

Bathroom, you were leaning over the sink trying to calm your breathing. Washing your face, tried to scrub away the red that had appeared on your cheeks. Eyes still glossy, as you looked at yourself.

What is happening to you today?

When changing clothes, you knew you had to change your underwear. You sighed defeted, noticing how soaked you were there.

When was the last time you were so wet?

You glanced down at yourself, cheeks red, sensitive nipples poking out of your shirt, body shaking very softly.

You were pulling off your shirt, trying to change your clothes, as if that would make you not feel so dirty. You started looking for your bra, only to realise that you had left it on the dresser. You have to go back there. In this condition? To him?

Panic. You clutched at your hair nervously.

If he caught you in that state, you couldn't refuse, if he started touching you. You couldn't help it, if he flashed you a smile, said a few affectionate words and grabbed you by the hips again.

Screw it.

You burst into the room, with your arms crossed over your chest. You were confused. He wasn't in the kitchen either. Had he left? You called out to him. Silence answered you. Did he really leave without breakfast? Did he oversleep again?

You hid your face in your hands, thanking the heavens that they had mercy on you today. You don't even want to start thinking where you get these thoughts from, about him, and other things.

You glanced at the clock. It's still quite early, still time left before the kids should be up. You could still feel the pulsation between your legs, gaze wandered to the bed.

It was probably time to take care of yourself.

You still have a moment, right?

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl: @kalopsia-flaneur

[lalunanymph]

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘 — miya osamu

based off this thought i had about atsumu unintentionally hooking his twin up with his future wife skibidi doo bap

I'm g'na kill him when I catch him, Osamu thinks, already coming up with a sure-fire plan to wipe his twin off the face of the earth for humiliating him like this.

And then, I'll go back in time and absorb him from the womb.

Usually, he could take whatever bullshit Tsumu threw his way—but this time, the star setter had gone too far.

Osamu literally feels like he's going to die; hands clammy and mind spinning in circles when he sees your confused expression, his number on a scrap of paper dangling uselessly in between his lax fingers.

"I... I'm sorry, Miya-san. I think you misunderstood..."

Your eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones, pearly white teeth digging into your lower lip as you chew on it in anxiety.

Thank fuck it's almost closing time and none of his regulars are here to see him fumble this badly.

He blinks, retracts his hand, and number with a forced smile, even when he feels like turning around and strangling his brother, who is, of course, dying of silent laughter in the kitchen.

"Ah." He scratches the back of his head, pink dusting apparent on his boyishly handsome face. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position, L/N-san."

Osamu struggles to control his cresting shame, forcing a smile.

"Let me make you a house special as an apology for my forwardness. I'm truly am sorry for putting you in this position."

Before he could turn and retreat back into the kitchen with his tail tuck in between his legs, you call out a high-pitched, "Wait!"

He turns, and doesn't expect your face to warm, eyes darting to the clean counter as you tap your white-painted nails on the lacquered wood.

"Wh-what did the cashier actually tell you, Miya-san?"

"The cashier?"

You nod. "The blonde man. Kinda looks like you. I told him to send the chef my compliments but I think he must've given you a different impression."

Oh. Tsumu.

Osamu tries to grin without baring his teeth too much, and as if knowing his bluff was exposed, Atsumu chokes back his chortles, ducking into the kitchen to hide.

"Ah," Osamu kisses his teeth. He debates not telling you the truth, but since he's already made an ass of himself, he might as well commit to the schtick. "Said to me a babe told him to tell me she thinks I'm hot. S'all."

If it was possible, your face warms even more.

"O-oh. Well... he isn't wrong."

"Yeah, he was really out of line with that—wait, what?"

Osamu backtracks, unsure if he's heard you right.

Your mortification is contagious, especially when you duck your head again and mumble: "He's not wrong, Miya-san." Now, it's your turn to be forward and courageous. "I... I think you're really cute."

The black shirt he has on stretches across his broad pecs, highlighting his muscular build and those deliciously impressive biceps and traps. A simple cap the same color hides his dark hair, and even under the fluorescent lights, no one could deny how much of a looker Miya Osamu is.

Right now, he has a choice: flounder and fumble you, or, take this chance to ask you out.

While he malfunctions with indecision, you remove the burden of choosing from him, reaching forward to grab his number written hastily on a scrap of paper with a small smile.

Still shy, both of you couldn't look the other in the eye, the implications of your actions giving Osamu whiplash.

"O-okay, uh, thanks," his deep, baritone takes on a shade of embarrassment.

In your sundress and pretty smile, you take his breath away as you stand, tucking his number right into your small purse.

"I'll call you then, Miya-san. See you soon."

The second the door closes behind your retreating figure, Atsumu's grating voice pierces through the daze in Osamu's mind like nails running down chalkboard, his face peeking from behind the kitchen door.

"Damn, I can't believe that worked. See Samu? S'wasn't so bad, huh? You finally got a date and I can get you out of this kitch—h-hey Samu—hey! S-Stop—stop chasing me!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 🎀 dawn says: haikyuu debut lessgoooo .... rbs and love are very much appreciated <3

©️ intellectual property of lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or change up the sentence structures and characters

[drexee]

IM BACK WITH ANOTHER SLEEP HEADCANON! This time it’s for Donnie!!

I hope you enjoy!

Bayverse Don x gn!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Spelling maybe

Raph | Leo | Mikey

Donnie Sleep HCs

Donatello’s bed is just big enough to fit him comfortably without him dangling over the sides

He has a pretty sizable blanket, and it’s actually a weighted blanket! Something that will put him to sleep and keep him asleep. Like 15lbs-25lbs

About four regular sized, plush pillows

He used to have a body pillow too

The bed itself is pushed up and out of the way, against the farthest wall of his room. His desk is against the opposite wall

Donnie absolutely sees the importance of having his room as a place to sleep and be away from work

But try as he might, his room still becomes littered with various sketches, blueprints, or notes

He cleans up as much as he can, but it just keeps happening so he gave up 😅

Donatello doesn’t spend too much time in his room though, constantly at work and tinkering away in his lab. He’s a workaholic, you know this.

To get Donnie to bed is a challenge in itself, but not impossible.

Luckily, he loves spending time with you, so you only need to ask him once.

Or twice.

Maybe three times, but he’s almost done! Promise! Just need to make sure that one part was secure and wasn’t going to grow legs and walk away by morning

Donnie’s favorite position is one where he’s facing you: him laying on his side, shell supported by a pillow or two

He’ll leave little kisses on what he can reach of you, but they’re so feather light, you barely even know they’re there. He’s too afraid of waking you up

He likes to either have his forehead pressed to yours or have your head tucked under his chin, he craves closeness

He tends to bring your leg up and hook it over his own. He’ll then scooch himself further into your space until you two are properly locked together and honestly? At that point? He couldn’t care less about anything else in the world. He’s not moving from you.

Through the night though, your legs become so tangled with his, you don’t know where he ends and you begin, like you were playing twister in your sleep or something

Donnie loves it when you use his arm as a pillow!

He knows it’s gonna go numb, but he doesn’t mind. He would take pins and needles over anything if it meant you got good sleep

His other arm is usually wrapped around you to hold you close, he likes to rub your back too! It’s a sure fire way to knock you out

It makes his heart go all fluttery whenever he thinks about that because he loves that he just knows you so well

He adores laying in bed with you and doesn’t fall asleep until well after you doze off just so he can look at you

It never really crossed his mind that it may be a bit weird to watch you sleep. You’re cute, and it calms him down. It’s his favorite past time.

Is he obsessed? No.

Maybe.

A little.

But is it obsession if you’re both in love? He’s caught you staring at him too! He knows you do the same!

Yeah, so he’s counted all your eyelashes, all your beauty marks, and logged every sigh you make into his long term.

And yeah, he keeps track of your REM cycle so he knows exactly how long it takes for you to slip off into deep sleep, and - Whatever!!! Just let him have this! Who are you?? The Police???

Donnie is a normal sleeper most nights and doesn’t move too much, may twitch a bit, but other than that, nothing.

Doesn’t make a peep when he’s knocked out, but breathes very deeply

Unless he gets an idea!! He used to just jolt out of bed to his desk, but he’s taken a tumble too many times (he kept forgetting the mess of limbs you two create) and has since learned how to stealthily slip away and back into you once he’s done

He gets a few nightmares, and he may unintentionally wake you if he gets too caught up in them.

But when you wake him up from one of those terrible dreams and cuddle with him? Ohhh he falls. He falls so hard for you. Especially when you rub your thumb across his cheek and talk him through his breathing

Your soothing words are like a balm to his overworked brain and he’s forever grateful for you

He’s pretty sure he’s got hearteyes

You’ve gotten a few chirps out of him like that, and he’s so embarrassed about them pLEASE DONT TEASE HIM 😭

He won’t get mad, but he’ll get so flustered and then you’ll have a child lock on your phone and he’ll have no idea what you’re talking about

Donnie’s usually awake before you, and will spend a few minutes basking in your warmth before he goes to grab you something quick to drink for when you wake up.

And when he comes back to see you curled up around his pillow? The thought that even in sleep you search for him and need him close to you?

It makes his knees buckle

And it takes everything in him to not just slip right back under those covers and replace that pillow you’ve grabbed onto

Right!! There’s numero dos!! Until next time!

[thinemoonshine]

⋆ ˚｡𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝒷𝒾𝓉𝓈 ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

enhypen 8th fem!member x hyung line genre: fluff type: oneshot word count: 723

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ synopsis: in which (y/n), enhypen's 8th member, has certain tendencies that give their boyish dorm teeny touches of femininity... or just plain messes. and eventually, these habits lead to the boys developing their own as well ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

bringing her scrunchies everywhere (l.hs & p.js)

"Use this," Jay says upon noticing (y/n)'s struggle and helps tie her long hair up into a loose ponytail as she eats her breakfast.

(y/n)'s brows raise and she emits a closed-lip gasp of surprise, occupied with chewing her rice before smiling gratefully at him when he takes the seat in front of her. "Thanks! Where'd you find it?"

"On the couch," the older replies with his lips pulled into that casual, charming half smile of his.

"I think I saw one on the coffee table too," Heeseung chimes in and (y/n) makes a mental note to check on it. Later on, she does in fact find her scrunchie— and not just one of them but two.

After leaving her scrunchies and hairties practically everywhere, Heeseung and Jay tend to be the ones picking them up or the ones to find them— leading them to unintentionally be her very own scrunchie lockers.

Award shows? Heeseung will probably have a pink hairtie around his wrist, hiding under his sleeve. Jay will probably have some stuffed into the pocket of his pants.

En-O' Clock? Jay has some new scrunchies he randomly bought for her still in his bag while Heeseung picked her hairtie up from the makeup room when she got dolled up.

Basically anytime in the dorm? Oh, the scrunchies are layered on their arms like warmers. They might even be using one for their own hair— just walking around the dorm with a palm-tree on their crown held together by soft, fluffy rubber ties.

using flowery coasters (s.jy)

"Look at these new ones I made! Aren't they cute?" (y/n) asks excitedly while showcasing Jake her freshly made pieces of crochet coasters on their coffee table.

He gasps dramatically with a hand flying to his mouth, eyes widening and brows raising to express surprise before he grins brightly at the girl. "Wow~~ These are beautiful, (y/n)! I still can't believe how fast you made these! They're perfect!"

"Thank youuuuu!!" She elongates her word, emphasizing her gratitude towards him for complimenting her works before she looks up at him curiously. "Which one do you like most?"

Jake gazes down affectionately into her expectant eyes, chuckling at how purely ebullient she is and hums thoughtfully with narrowed eyes shifted towards the choices of handiwork. "I like that one."

He points to one in beige with dark green-stemmed yellow tulips adorning its circular shape and (y/n) gives him the piece before choosing another with the same design but different coloured tulips to match with his.

"We have matching ones!" She chirps, holding hers next to his before she goes to find the other members to gift the remaining coasters.

Jake smiles warmly at her furthering back before at the soft material in his hand. Ever since then, he's left the coaster on the table and uses it whenever he has a beverage. A hot drink, cold drink, bottled, canned or boba— uses it for every type.

If he finds another member using it, he won't hesitate to just snatch it before putting it under his drink aka. 'its rightful place,' as Jake calls it. As the collection grows, so does his greed. He is not sharing.

giving his arm/hand (p.sh)

(y/n) crochets, paints, does diamond art, basically all that artsy d.i.y stuff. And sometimes, she needs extra hands to keep things steady— and somehow, Sunghoon's always there.

"Can you hold this for me?" She asks Sunghoon to hold her crochet hook while she tries to untangle the knot in her thread. He holds it, and very stably too.

She's doing some diamond painting and accidentally knocks her small tray of colourful jewels— Sunghoon already has his hand out, palm facing upright and (y/n) naturally puts her sticky canvas on it like it's a dish, not wanting to accidentally knock it away while picking up a few fallen beads.

They're having a photoshoot and (y/n)'s called onto the set but has a mini fan in her hold— Sunghoon magically appears to take it from her then proceeding to stand obediently at his post, watching her and waiting patiently until she finishes to give her back her stuff.

She's out shopping for clothes and groceries— Sunghoon's there with a shopping basket hanging on one arm and her clothes on the other.

Some even say that Sunghoon's her personal assistant.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 hi, it’s romi here!! thank you so much for reading to the end!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog��they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[sweetheartsaku]

(HQ) i'll do the dishes we'll carry the load

𝜗𝜚 HAIKYUU!! VARIOUS: 𝓛ANTANA.

a/n: [fem!reader] i have 3 wips in my drafts but i chose to start a whole new one 😎

— characters : atsumu, iwaizumi, sakusa, osamu

atsumu miya ; dance with you tonight - laufey

ATSUMU MIYA GET BEHIND ME to all the people who say atsumu treats all girls like trash, (LOUD BUZZER NOISE) it is such a common headcannon he's a mommy's boy?? such a common headcannon that the twins grew up with their mother?? hello?? would most definitely treat you beyond well ⁽⁽(੭ꐦ •̀Д•́ )੭*⁾⁾ !!

bites his straw omg. samu HATES it, especially when they’re sharing drinks then he finds his fresh beverages straw on its last thread. does the same with you unintentionally, making it literally impossible to drink from LMAO. its atsumu so i let it pass

has a dimple on his left cheek, matching with his twin brother whose dimple is on the right!!! he loves when you kiss and poke it. whenever he's focused, he bites his cheek, and you can see the little dimple there too.

gets you so many little trinkets and souvenirs from when he goes to away-games, always thinking of you!! sends you pictures of sunsets he sees, gets you seashell necklaces and ones with your initials except you get his and he gets yours ♡ bokuto and hinata also try help him, but the best they could pick up was a pebble the same colour as your eyes.

"you wanna kiss me soooo bad"

hajime iwaizumi ; super rich kids - frank ocean

put his hands on your head or waist when your close or about to hit something.. like you could be getting something from under the table and his hand would protect the spot where you could hit your head on 😖💞 same thing with your waist, always holding it close so you don’t bump into strangers on the road

strong believer of sidewalk rule. will switch your places EVER so gently (IWAIZUMI HAJIME THE MAN YOU ARE). loooooves slithering his hands around your waist and adooooores the pudgy stuff under your shirt. he just finds every inch of you beautiful from the bottom to the top!!! (he js like me frfr u is gorjus bae)

would carry you when your feet/heels hurt. the INSTANT he hears a slight groan of pain he will actually already be down there unbuckling the clip of the heel LMAO. props you up on his back and holds you up with so much pride.. his favourite heels to unbuckle are valentino’s and ysl. got the valentino’s for you on your 3rd year anniversary and the ysl on your 4th. maybe he’s gonna get on one knee while he’s down there too

smells like an insane amount of axe body spray unfortunately.. sorry iwa enthusiasts

kiyoomi sakusa ; coming home - beabadoobee

really loves claw clips. whether it be on you, or on himself and literally just in general. really loves when you wear the pearlier colours, especially teal and lime mixed with yellows etc... he also likes the clips on himself when he's cleaning

haircare routine goes HARD!! always having 2 lathers of shampoo, 1 layer of conditioner then another layer of leave-in conditioner, protection products and after allat he has curl serum (he does it with a scalp massager too btw)

keeping the kita shinsuke + sakusa kiyoomi crocheting agendas up rn. as a kid his family was always prioritised with work at the hospital so he'd always just sit in the corner of the waiting room with his thoughts, till one day this elderly lady who always had weekly checkups would teach him how to crochet. he made things for his family, but they never accepted/used it, so he just stopped after elementary school. but ever since he met you, he suddenly felt his hands tug towards the hooks a little harder

favourite scents are lime and herbs, but not together. likes lemon and lime sprays, window cleaner and wipes. secondly, loves herbs because it reminds him of the grandma that taught him to crochet 🥹(screaming, crying, wailing, throwing up, bashing head on wall.)

would peel your pomegranates (he hates messes)

osamu miya ; a piece of you - nathaniel constantin

found you watching those wax slime/asmr/clay cracking/mini foods/recipes on tiktok/mukbangs ONCE, and ever since then he's been a tad more dedicated to making special sweet treats for you after closing at onigiri miya ♡

this is like on the verge of ick and cute, but he likes to boop your nose with flour or your hand while you're baking. ya'll could be kneading impossibly close, and he'll sprinkle a bit of flour on you or randomly boop your nose 😭

always carries hair ties for you. in the kitchen he can’t have them on, but anywhere else he has one on him. since he basically lives in the kitchen, he’d prefer you to just stay there with him instead LMAO. the “anywhere else” in question is wherever you desire... but adores trying new cuisines with you. the hair tie helps tie your hair back while you eat btw <3

his hands smell like dishwashing liquid, even after the endless lathers of strong candy apple hand-soap, the scent of the liquid still lingers on his hand! you can smell it when you hold it on movie nights, or kiss it goodnight hehe

has a dimple on his right cheek, except his dimple is way deeper than atsumu's. you can see it when he chews

would peel your oranges

[fanaticsnail]

Overstimulation: Nico Robin

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 1,200

Themes: Robin x afab!reader, mentions of pain, crew dynamics, mdni, 18+, NSFW, smut, friends to friends that help each other out, migraine, frustration, overstimulation, inappropriate use of devil fruit, fingering, praising.

Notes: Another chapter of my birthday celebration series. Getting closer to the day now!

The dull ache pulsed through your mind in a rhythmic thrum. Stress finally accumulated in a high tone in your ears and ringing through your temples to the central lobe of your mind, causing your eyes to unintentionally clench shut to coax it away.

You had been traveling at sea for far too long. The tension rising amongst the crew all seemed to come to a peak, prompting your body to react by bringing a migraine to the forefront of your being. Although you had taken ibuprofen prescribed by Chopper earlier a few minutes prior, it had yet to work its way through your system to snuff out the ache.

Walking towards your room, you stumbled on the last step and began to topple over. As you expected the impact of the wooden floor to meet your body, two hands swarmed your frame and engulfed you in their embrace. You didn't need to open your eyes to understand the crystal gaze you were to meet should you do so.

“You've gotta keep your eyes open, honey,” she chuckled, slowly tugging you back to an upright position with the large hands before dispelling them. “You look like you've got far too much on your mind.”

Stepping forward, she hooked the arm attached to her persons in yours, weaving them together and skillfully spurring you on towards your quarters on the Sunny.

“Zoro and Sanji are at each other’s throats day in and day out,” you nod, opening your eyes and turning to face her. “Then you've got Brook trying his best to sneak a peek at Nami’s panties, Franky attempting to make everything ‘super’ by clanging metal together in heavy-handed rapidity.”

Robin leads you on, both of you crossing the threshold to your room with Robin closing the door behind you. You unlaced your arm from hers, stepping towards your desk while your fingers snuck up to massage your temples.

“Then there's Luffy who's decided to raid the pantry of all of the ‘good food’, leaving us in staples,” you continue on your tirade with Robin listening intently to your rambling. “Usopp had been working on explosives for his slingshot, flicking them at the walls, while Chopper has been asking non-stop when the next time we make port is and I just-... I just-...”

“Sit,” a warm voice ordered you from the corner of the room, gesturing to your bed. “And take off your pants.”

“What?” You exclaim, snapping your entire attention back to Robin and frowning at her with a deep furrow of your brows.

“When I used to get frustrated to the point of migraines forming back with Baroque Works,” she informs you, shrugging off and stretching her neck while stretching her arms, “I used to do this thing where I'd get my arms and surround myself with them.”

“Okay,” you offer in a lengthy extension, “What does that have to do with taking my pants off, Robin?”

Robin chuckles, leaning towards the plush armchair in the corner of your room and slowly taking a seat in the soft center. Adjusting herself in her seat, she hooks one knee over the other and reclines while her hands find the rests either side of the chair.

“Do you sleep in those pants?” she asked you with a soft shrug, eyes only depicting her kindness as she spoke.

“No,” you offer her monotonously.

“Then take them off, lay back, and let me help you relax.”

There was something about the way she spoke that had you almost hypnotized. Whether it was the migraine slowly dissipating, your perplexion at her suggestion, or the way her smile seemed to only grow as you complied: you did as she said.

Laying back in your shirt, only your briefs shielding you from exposing yourself completely to the woman in your chair, you felt your body immediately relax into what felt like the grip of a thousand gentle touches.

Fingers, thumbs, palms, forearms, each soft touch and gentle caress siphoned your pain and alleviated your tension. There was no more pain, only all of Robin while she sat back with a soft smile spreading up to glow in her cheeks. She was everywhere, and you couldn't help but sigh and groan as she took your pain into her hands and morphed it into something beautiful.

“Relaxed, darling?” Robin asked, her fingers slowly rising to tickle at your chest and dance along the hem of your shirt. Your eyes could barely open as she overwhelmed you by her touch.

“Ah-....” you choked out, feeling as some of her fingers began to travel lower to your abdomen. Your back arched into a perfect crescent as her many hands grasped your thighs and pinned you to the bed. “...uh huh.”

Robin smiled, her forearms moving to circle at your stomach and tug you against the bed. You couldn't cry out in protest due to how truly relaxed you were. Your body reacted to her every move, breath hitching as her digits slipped beneath your underpants and toyed with your slit without placing her fingers inside your entrance.

“Good job, darling,” she praised you, her voice hitching at the corners as she watched you slowly attempt to seek out more contact from her hands. She toyed with you by carding her digits through your slit and halting just before touching that small pearled bud.

“Y-You did this to yourself?” you stuttered out. Your voice whined out for her while she toyed with that small pearl. As she began to draw lazy circles against it, more of her hands drew themselves up to pin, hold, grind, tease, touch, and rub your body.

“It is quite relaxing,” she confessed, her voice purring out to you from her place on the arm chair, “Isn't it?”

“Yes-!” You whined out as her hands began caressing your chest and teasing your pebbled buds over your shirt. Fingers slowly entered your slit, hooking up and brushing with your sensitive ring of muscle.

“So wet for me, darling,” she praised you, “Just let me take all that stress and tension from you.” She began picking up her intensity, meeting each part of you while holding you firmly against the mattress. “All you need to do is lie back and let me work.”

Your stomach banded together in thick knots, coiling tightly as your thighs tingled. Toes curling, she drew your hands above your head, pinning your wrists up and binding each part of you with fingers, hands, and forearms.

“You're so close, aren't you?” Her voice gasped out, slowly moaning at your display of lust pouring out by each coax of her motions, “Good job. Just relax for me, and I'll take care of the rest.”

“Robin-!” you mewled as the coil snapped. White split your vision as you felt her fingers sucking up into your core. Her hands held you back, expertly driving you over that edge and continuing to hook up into you.

“There you go,” she hummed thoughtfully, “Ride it out with me. You can do that for me, can't you?”

You whined as she continued to pin you down, basking in the release of your tension while being expertly championed through your high by her hands.

Huffing and panting, her hands stilled and withdrew from beneath the barrier of your briefs. Rising up from her position on the chair, she continued to hold you in her firm grip while she walked over to you.

“How's the migraine now?” she smiled down at you, using the hands attached to her body to gently caress your cheek.

“Forgotten,” you utter softly, a warm flush swelling in your cheeks as your pulse quickened. She leaned down, pressing her lips to your forehead and humming against your flesh.

“I'm happy to have helped."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel @ane5e

🎶 Happy Birthday to Me 🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[joicecubes]

this started as a twitter post but it got way too long

i feel. INSANE. ABOUT FIDDLESTAN YOU GUYS. i’ll admit i didn’t get it at first, like the original concept seems kinda bonkers, they never interact! what a silly rarepair! BUT NO. I SAW A SINGLE PIECE OF FANART AND IT WAS OVER FOR ME. IM HOOKED. im sorry i need to talk about them

my favorite set-up for fiddlestan, and the one i see most people going with, is the idea that fiddleford comes back to ford’s house after ford’s already been sucked through the portal, so he finds stan instead. and thats like such perfect/devastating (depending on how you look at it) timing because their wounds from ford are both so raw.

i feel like this is gonna get long so. gay rambling under the cut

on the one hand, they get from each other what they never got from ford. or at least, what they lost from ford. fiddleford wants love, he wants his unwavering devotion to ford to be reciprocated. and stan, being such a deeply lonely person, can give him that! what he wants is companionship. he wants a friend, like what he had in his brother. he wants forgiveness. and god, fiddleford is one of the kindest, most forgiving characters in the show. if anyone will see where stan is coming from, if anyone can extend forgiveness and understanding where ford fell flat, it’s fiddleford.

and while this exemplifies just how deeply they would need each other in this scenario, when you think about how tightly they both clung to ford, there presents a very real possibility that one or both of them would feel like ford’s replacement.

stan is ford’s twin. people have played with the idea that fiddleford would see a lot ford in stan, even though they may not be very similar in demeanor. they look the same. and deep down, they do have similarities. alex hirsch said in a dvd commentary that there is more of ford in stan than he even realizes, and fiddleford would probably see that. not to mention just how deeply he would miss him.

and when stan has always felt like a worse version of ford, you can imagine he might feel like a stand-in, especially as him and fiddleford get closer. fiddleford, whether he means to or not, would definitely see his best friend in stan. he has his face for god’s sake!! and would stan just accept it? would he be upset to be seen in this light, to act as a replacement, or would he accept that he’ll always be second to ford? either way is just. DEVASTATING. for fiddleford to unintentionally confirm all of stan’s deepest fears and insecurities…

and then there’s what fiddleford is to stan. while i don’t think fiddleford would feel as deeply a replacement as stan does, he IS a big fucking nerd. and stan probably begged him for help getting ford back when he found out that fiddleford is not only a scientist, but worked on the portal in the first place. and he of course wants ford back too, but it wouldn’t surprise me if fiddleford ends up feeling like stan only keeps him around for that purpose and that purpose alone. to learn more about ford, to live vicariously through him as ford’s best friend. because stan is desperate to know more about him, to satiate this need, this wound of missing his brother for over a decade.

god and all the little things too… fiddleford being riddled with anxiety and stan being able to ground him, to knock some much-needed sense into him the next time he wants to pick up that memory gun. stan struggling to take care of himself, to see his own self worth, and fiddleford being there to make sure he eats enough food, reminds him to shower, helps wash or cut his unkempt hair. falling asleep holding each other, because they need that comfort, that warmth, that heartbeat, to feel okay enough to rest.

ugh you could do sooo much with these bitches it drives me up the wall. i feel so unwell just thinking about them. i could yap even more but i’ll keep that for another post

[2neaky]

࿔*･⟡⋆｡˚⊹ 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞♡ ۫࿔. ࿐

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖦹 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 |-> dirty talk, c୨ৎck warming, p in v p୨ৎnetration, ୨ৎdging, f୨ৎngering (fem. receiving), m୨ৎsturbation, d୨ৎm/s୨ৎb dynamics, teasing, descriptive language, oc/nameless characters (“he” & “she” prns only used) abrupt ending (if I ever feel up to it, I’ll add a real ending)

It keeps him entranced, watching her climb over his lap and settles on his thighs softly. 

Like a butterfly coming to rest on its flower; She’s open for him.

“Look so pretty,” he mumbles, dazed. Not a full second passes before he presses his mouth to her cushiony bottom lip.

In the kiss, her lips spread into a smile and a giggle slips through.

“Thank you.” 

A velvety hum leaves him as he licks at her, coaxing her tongue out. He sucks on it.

She tastes like the finest dessert.

His warm, big hands rub down her bare back, pressing her closer to him. 

Her breath skips as her stiff nipples graze his hot chest. She can feel the energy thrumming throughout his body.

His hands bear down, pressing deeper into the slopes of her waist and the curves of hips. They come around to the meatiest part of her body—her ass. Fingers spread to pull at and sink into dimpled, loose fat.

She mewls.

“Perfect,” he whispers against her lips as he pulls apart her bubbly cheeks. 

He sits up straighter, just to peer over her shoulder and down at her little holes. 

“Look at that.”

Her asshole winks back at him and her pussy clenches repeatedly, from the tension. He spots the slimy, deep pinkness hidden between fat, puffy lips.

One hand lets go of a cheek, only to smack it. Before his hand settles against the skin, he tightly grips the fat.

Her breath hitches. “Fuck,” she whispers, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth.

A soft chuckle leaves him, amused as he jiggles her cheek.

She’s too sweet, hiding her face deep in his neck. Always been so easy to embarrass, getting all shy whenever they’re intimate—it’s cute.

Above all, she always waits patiently for what he’s to do next.

Such a good girl.

It’s true, she is. But … how much of one is she?

How long can he push her until she breaks bad? What would be her last straw?

He desperately wants to know.

“Are you a good girl?”

The question’s got her pulling her head out of his neck. Big brown eyes stare back at him for a split second. Then, she’s nodding, curls flopping along with the movement. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The barest hint of a whine in her voice makes his dick twitch. Unintentionally, the tip barely taps her naked lips.

She tries to stifle her excitement, keeping her hips still to stop from bearing down on him.

Just like he thought—a good girl.

“Want you to show me.” 

His eyes bounce around her face, studying her features—seeing the way her eyes widen just a smidge and her lips part by less than an inch.

“Show me how patient you could be.”

His voice rasps with the excitement of his thoughts.

“How?”

She’s already wet, but that she keeps quiet about. He’ll find out soon enough.

“Lean up,” he whispers.

Bruised knees sink into the mattress on either side of his hips. Body raised high, her boobs hang in his face. Heavy and full. 

He’s tempted to stick his tongue out and swipe it against one of her large, dark brown nipples.

One hand hooked on her hip, he takes his dick in hand.

Her body tingles with excitement. She’s too eager to take him. Because she loves taking his dick. It doesn’t matter to her how debauched it sounds.

All the right spots he knows how to hit, and just at the perfect time. He didn’t need much time to learn her body.

Whether that’s from experience with other women, she doesn’t like to think about. It makes her a tad bit green with envy.

However, it’s easy to forget all of that when he’s balls deep in her. Filling her tummy so nicely, stretching her cunt wide open and pushing her body’s bounds.

He drives her crazy, turns her brain to mush.

Sometimes, she’s finds herself having to keep from shouting out how badly she wants him to finish in her. The only thing keeping her from doing so is the possibility that he might deny her that dream.

She’s knocked from her daze as the heavy crown of his dick knocks against her clit. He feels around for her opening, rubbing and prodding between her lips.

He knows where to put it—finds it with ease every time. If he really wanted to, he’d slip right in. But, more than anything, he just loves to tease—that she knows. 

So, she keeps her whining and complaints to herself, just thankful that he’s touching her.

“Mmh … so warm.”

His tip throbs, circling her hardened clit. He holds himself so that it slips perfectly against the slit of his crown. 

“O-oh,” she whimpers softly. 

Her strong thighs flex as she tries to keep still for him.

His breathing heavies as he continues to rub himself against her. There’s the swooping feeling in his lower stomach.

“Oh … fuck,” he whispers.

Precum beads out of the thick head, immediately wiped against her clit. He spreads it gracelessly over her lips, glossing them up.

Short acrylics sink into the skin of his shoulders as she grips tighter. Her jaw clenches, even.

He teases at her entrance, dipping into her honey pot and getting his head just a bit messy.  

“So creamy,” he groans quietly. 

Shallowly, he pushes his dick just past her opening and strokes softly. The sound of her body tempts him. Soft squishes whisper to him, telling him to push deeper.

He almost listens.

Letting go of himself, his dick slips from between her. A thin string of her essence barely stretches before it breaks, disconnecting them.

As stiff as his dick is, it bobs weakly before standing in its erect position. Looking down between them, he notes how a sticky glaze covers his tip.

“So patient for me.” His hand at her hip slides to the crux of her ass cheek, rubbing it gently.

“M-mhm.”

She nods weakly, prompting the gentle sway of her boobs in his face. He wants to put his mouth on them bad.

“Mmh—c-can I … sit?”

He can imagine the cute wrinkle between her brows as she wonders just how much longer he’ll be.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He lightly smacks her ass. “Sit on your dick.”

She makes haste, grabbing him at the base and angling him just right. A moan of equal parts relief and arousal leave her as she slowly sinks down.

He only grunts as he steadily fills her up. It always feels so good going in her, like her pussy is a perfect home for his dick. 

Broken whimpers float from her as that slight burn comes with his dick bullying its way into her walls. 

The feel of it is one thing, but the sight gets him like no other: how her hole is pulled taut around him, trying to accommodate his size. Her body has no other choice but to take him.

He can fucking break her.

The thought makes him twitch inside, pulling a soft mewl out of her.

Minutes pass before she’s able get all ten inches of him in. In his lap her body quivers, ass cheeks clenching as she tries to relax around him.

“Always squeezing me so good,” he mumbles, burying his face into her neck as he rubs on her ass and back.

“M’so full,” she moans.

The soothing motions of his hands come to a halt as his arms encircle her small waist tight. They bear down and lock around her. If she wanted to move, she can’t.

Kisses are flowered across her neck and chest. She smells so sweet, like vanilla and cinnamon rolls.

“Such a good girl … so good to me—”

A weak, half-thrust on his part makes her whimper. She grips the undersides of his biceps.

“Love stuffing you like this … filling you with all this dick,” he rasps.

She clenches around him. He resists thrusting up into her again. However, he’s sure she can feel him pulsing inside of her.

Her back barely arches, pushing her breasts up higher into his face. The wide, dark areolas fit her so perfectly, he’s obsessed.

Without a word or even so much as a second thought, he takes one of her stiff nipples into his mouth. His eyes fall closed as he indulges himself.

His tongue laves at it, toying with the sensitive bud. She bears down on him, pussy gripping him so tight it almost makes his head spin.

She tries to lift her hips, but can’t budge. “Uh—babe … wanna move.”

He releases her nipple. It shines with spit and stands at attention. “Hol’on.” He didn’t even make eye contact with her, too focused on her chest. 

Eager to give the other side just as much attention, he takes her into his mouth again. But he doesn’t leave the first bud idle. 

He unwraps an arm from her waist, just to toy with it. With a feather light touch, he rubs the pad of his thumb against the wet skin.

He moans around her nipple, too content with sucking on her while her walls massage his dick. It slowly pushes him towards his own climax.

“Baby—“ she whimpers.

His thumb circles it. He releases her from his mouth again, leaving her chest free.

“Pretty ass nipples. Love that shit.”

He gropes her with both hands, thumbs flicking and pressing on her nipples like they were buttons.

“Please,” she exhales, trying to keep the cry out of her voice. Her hands snake up from his arms and shoulders to scratch at the nape of his neck.

“Please what?”

“Move—I wanna move.”

“Thought you wanted to show me how patient you was?”

Her face falls.

“Hm? What happened to that?” His brows pull together, creating a soft wrinkle between them. “Thought you was a good girl?”

She keeps quiet, unsure of what to say.

“Hm?” He delivers a quick smack to her ass, making her back straighten. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” she inhales. “Yes, I-I am.”

“So be patient.”

She swallows, breath shuddering.

Carefully, he shifts to sit on his knees. She tries to keep quiet as the movement teases her. It gives her a taste of what she’s used to—his dick mixing her guts.

“Lay back.”

Slowly, she lays back until she’s against the mattress. Her lower body slopes upward, still on his lap, dick still plugging her up.

Her breasts pool on her chest, the fat spreading in a way that only arouses him further.

She’s perfect like this.

He stares down at her with eyes blown full of lust. It almost makes him regret doing all of this.

“Touch yourself.”

Hesitantly, she reaches downward. She feels around, finding the point at which they connect. She runs her fingers over her stretched lips before skating them over her clit.

She weakly jolts.

“C’mon,” he grunts, shifting on his knees.

Her eyes blink slowly, brain lagging as she tries to focus on his commands. Shyly, she begins a circle over her sensitive pearl. Round and round her fingers go, caressing it.

Every couple of seconds her pussy clamps down on him. But the more she rubs, the smaller the time in between each clench gets.

Her fingers pick up the pace, slipping and sliding too fast to even do full circles. Her chest bounces faster and faster with each hurried breath. Her eyes begin to roll back.

“Mmh … mmmh—“

She licks her lips, eyes falling closed. One of her knees lift below his arm as her toes press into the mattress.

“Fuck … fuck.”

Her voice is tiny and gentle, like a whisper in the wind. Hand movements grow sloppier as her pussy chokes around his dick.

“Stop.”

Her hand stutters before coming to a slow stop. Those big, brown eyes flutter open. There’s a hint of a frown on her lips.

“Spread yourself.”

Weak fingers further pull her lips apart. It doesn’t change his view of her, seeing as he’s already stretching her to capacity. But, he does gain more access to her clit.

His balls tighten.

“Got this pussy wide open.” He reaches forward to rub at the small pearl.

Her legs twitch as they try to close around him. To ensure they don’t, his other hand keeps one leg down as he rubs lazy circles against her. 

“Shit, you so pretty like this. Don’t even need me to fuck you … just gotta sit on my dick.”

“F-fuck—“

Her eyes almost cross before they fall closed again.

“Keep it warm.”

“Baby.” Her brows pull together as her mouth opens.

It’s a warning.

“Hold it.” Pursing his lips, he leans forward and spits right on her clit. He rubs it in before it slides down to his dick. “Hold that nut.”

She whimpers, her held down leg pushing against his hand. And her body only tightens around him.

“I can’t—“

Holding his breath, he quickly, but carefully, pulls out.

“Augh, fuck—“

His dick weakly twitches as he grips the base tightly. Precum only drips from the tip as he successfully halts his climax, landing right on her pussy. It slides through her folds, getting lost in her.

He’s a mess, his dick covered in her creamy frosting. However, all of this has come without the relief of a release—on both ends.

When he looks up, he finds devastation written all over her face. 

“Why’d you stop?”

“Gotta be patient.”

Staring up at him, her eyes say everything her mouth doesn’t. They had gone from being big and pleading, to glaring.

She didn’t have any more patience left in her.