#and his face puckers up real good

[ddanosaur]

ethersea au where everything is the same except devo’s prestige spray is one of these bad boys

[reignpage]

ᥫ᭡ Pegging Gojo as a reward for being so good

More than eager, he was ecstatic when you broached the topic with him, even insisted he didn’t need any preparations because he’s ‘always ready.’ Whatever that means. The strap-on is bright blue with rhinestones on the harness; his amazing princess deserves to feel pretty, he said. 

On all fours, completely bare except for his blindfold, he impatiently awaits to be stretched out. “Come on, baby. I’m ready. Don't be scared. You won't hurt me. I can take it. My ass will eat it up like a buffet.”

“That’s what I’m scared of most, idiot.”

When he laughs, his puckered hole quivers and the sight entrances you out of your fears. The fake cockhead kisses the hole, circling and pushing in slightly just to test the waters. Still a little cold, your boyfriend jolts at the odd sensation of the strawberry-flavoured lube aiding the mouth-watering rubbing of the fake cock against every sensitive nerve ending in his most vulnerable area. 

Satoru lets out a breathy moan. Then, inch by inch, he’s taking it all in like a pro — he’s even got a perfect arch you can’t help but run your nails down, teasing him. 

“Woah,” he says, feeling insanely full when you bottom out with no problems. “This is what you feel every time? I just gained a n-new —hngh, ooh that’s in deep, baby—newfound respect for you.”

Admittedly, you’re enjoying this more than you thought you would. There’s something about bringing the strongest sorcerer to his knees, watching his adorable, pink hole flutter around a cock, albeit a fake one, and seeing a blush erupt all over his pristine, pale skin. He’s moaning like crazy, pushing back ever so slightly like he can’t help it. 

“Feel good, Toru?”

He groans and squeezes down. Hard. “D-don’t. Ha, don’t talk like that.”

“Like what, baby?”

“Like that. It’s got my dick leaking l-like crazy. Ah, I don’t think I’ll —oh, damnnn— l-last very long. Not when you’re fucking me so good, baby. K-knew you’d be a natural at -ngh!- this. I love you so so soooo much. You're a champ.”

And he’s right: he doesn’t last very long at all. Satoru shoots out ropes and ropes of pearlescent cum all over his stomach and the satin sheets, body shaking from the heavenly sparks of delectable lightning emanating from deep inside of him, and you swear he even whimpers in the midst of his fierce orgasm. 

Giggling, you wrap your hand around his super sensitive cock, loving the way it pulses in your grip. Like a reflex, he thrusts forward, keen to milk himself for all he's worth. He can't get enough of the feel of you, and darn it if he doesn't wish he could feel your real cock inside of him instead of a silicon one. "Oh, fuuuuck, that was a good one."

Slumped on the bed in front of you, you let him reorient himself — he gets mean when he doesn't get a break in between orgasms. You're mulling the last ten minutes, thinking that the blue dildo looked great against his pale skin, that it did somehow come naturally to you, and that it was oddly enjoyable. There was a notch in the strap that was rubbing your clit just right, and if he had lasted longer, despite the aching in your hips from the unusual movements, you totally would have orgasmed. 

"Would it be too," he breathes out, sentence fragmented by a sudden shudder, "t-too much to call you mommy? 'Cause it kinda feels right."

"Shut up, you dork."

It takes only mere seconds for him to ask for another round once the wave of pleasure subsides, the dildo still lodged deep, held tight by his gummy walls. And you're not hesistant either to oblige. After all, he's worked so hard; he deserves this. 

“H-hey, do me against a mirror. I wanna see how pretty you look.”

You roll your eyes. “You mean, you want to see yourself.”

A grin creeps its way onto his face, which you feel more than you see. “I can multitask — that’s what the Six Eyes are for, baby.”

[gnawsy]

vixcamgirl reader?? 👀💕

content warnings › exhibitionism. clit play. strap-on usage. vi being referred to as ‘puppy’. lots of praise. bit of aftercare towards the end.

“are you guys ready?” you preen at the recording video camera, smiling big and bright as your fingers fiddle with the frilly lace that lines your panties. “I don’t think y’all are.”

you’ve been teasing your fans about your partner for a while now. and, it’s safe to say they’ve grown impatient with your consistent secrecy. a barely in-frame photo of her beefy arms, a picture of your sitting on her abs, and whatever other dirty shit you can dig up in your gallery. they need to see the real, full thing.

it only took a few anonymous messages, and some much needed reassurance from your girlfriend, to bring her on.

the chat spams messages at your playful mockery, though a few do manage to catch your eye.

pussylicker666: yes yes yes~!!

butchbitch: BRING HER ON NOW.

bbcstroker3: she a man?

choco3756: I bet she’s so hot..

cultcoochie: she got a bush? do you wash it?

you call violet over with a jerky nod of your chin, reaching a hand out to grab hers and dragging her forwards once she doesn’t willingly step into frame. she grins nervously at the flashing device; looking like a shy school girl despite her wide, muscular frame.

“soo, everyone! this is violet— or, well, vi. my girlfriend.” you introduce, crawling onto the bed behind her to drape yourself over her back, feeling all over her muscles possessively. warm lips meet the side of her neck, and she jumps. letting out an apprehensive giggle at the sudden affection. “she’ll be joining us for today.”

vi flushes at the fingers coming up to squish her cheeks, making her lips pucker out adorably as she whines out for you to stop.

“come on, baby. say hi to the people.” “..hi.”

everyone, including you, relish in her shy tone.

quickly maneuvering to sit down beside her, you show off the toys you might be tonight using to your viewers. from small vibes to ridiculously large dildos. most, if not any of them, wont be. usually, camgirls don’t do this. but, you like to keep your fans in the know. not wanting them to get bored and unfollow. though, a little surprise is good every now and then.

your girlfriend looks understandably skittish, even though she willingly agreed to this. you gave her the entire run down from the moment you asked her about it; told her you’d stop the stream with some bullshit excuse if she were to ever hey too uncomfortable with what you were doing.

“are you ready, honey?” your syrupy voice drizzling in her ear makes her recoil. violet gives you a shaken nod, making a cute little “um” as your palm presses against her binded chest. easing her back to rest on her elbows.

“yep! yeah, ready.” she gasps, followed by a strained chuckle as you unbutton her jeans. she watches your fingers fiddle with the latches with unwavering attention, only looking away once her boxers were revealed. stupid, spongebob print boxers.

you giggle at the sight of the ironic pair of underwear, giving her a raised brow of amusement before slowly dragging them down her fat quads. she could’ve changed them before coming on here, but oh well.

vi flusters under your questioning look. leaning back against the headboard so she can cover her face with her arms, sighing out soft noises of displeasure. a little “stop it” leaving that mouth. what else could she have worn? it was wash day for christ’s sake!

you raise her legs for her when she doesn’t, tossing the soiled garment away with a sickening giggle. allowing the tense limbs settle back into a comfortable position, you slowly ease them farther apart. exposing her soggy, matted bush for thousands of perverted eyes to see.

“look at how wet she is.”

the girl beneath you lets out a small moan of discomfort as you spread her swollen lips apart with your index and middle fingers, showcasing her pretty pink insides to your fans as thick globs of grool ooze from her painfully obvious tight hole. traveling down between her ass cheeks, past her anus, to then create a small puddle below. it almost has her hand between her legs to try and cover herself up. but you wouldn’t be having that.

being on live video is fine, sure. whatever. but, do you have to exploit and embarrass her?

“i swear she’s always like this..” you mumble, leaving her puffy, hairy lips alone to then brush your thumb over the pearl of her massive clit. which is peeking out between her folds to greet the audience. “..oh- and look who came out to say hello.”

violet squeaks as your unwavering touch sets off fireworks in her belly, abs clenching and twitching as you caress the throbbing nerve bundle with little care. it has her hips jerking upwards, searching for more friction where there is none.

“ah, please-“ she mutters, instantly regretting what she said. the chat raving on about her pitiful response.

you want to be mean to her, desperately. but, this is your first stream with her. so, you guess you could be a bit nicer. a bit more lenient.

“oh, oh!” a subtle blush blossomed on her cheeks as you nudge yourself deeper between her legs, pulling her lower half onto your lap to begin steadily stroking over her sizeable clitoris. which was twitching and pulsating beneath the supple pad of your pollex. reaching around with your other hand to reposition your phone and angle between the both of your intertwined bodies

her socked toes curl in on the soles of her feet, quiet mumbles of pleasure growing to that octave you’re so very familiar with. gooey arousal drips onto your clothed crotch, the heat of it making your pussy throb to life. panties dirtied with an obvious wet stain on the front.

the startings of an orgasm swell up in her gut, muscles stiffening to the point of an intense cramp. just as she’s about to experience that saccharine release, you snatch your hand away. causing your sweet girl to let out a little cry of despair. she was just about to come.

“‘m sorry, baby.” you croon hushedly, kissing away the tears that are surely bubbling at the corners of her eyes. such a whiny, pathetic girl, she is. “I gotta put on a good show.”

violet sniffles, but nods nonetheless. letting the fire in her belly snuff out before you start the seemingly endlesss assault of edging her.

tear stains streak her rosy face, lips quivering in a pout, brows furrowed as yet another climax slips through her fingers. she’s feeling unsatisfied, yet overstimulated. unfamiliar from how fulfilled she usually is when she’s with you.

just one touch sends her flying back against the wall, flinching away from a singular brush of your knuckles. her poor clit is matching the natural color of her hair, looking as if it’s got its own heartbeat from how hard you’ve got her throbbing. her cute little asshole clenches tight whenever you bring her to the brink; only to drag her back off the ledge with adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

“aww, poor puppy.”

violet wails as your fingers drag up her slit, gathering her slick and spreading it across her inner thighs and lower stomach. defiling freckled flesh from the waist down, skin glistening with her own mess.

butchbitch: don’t be mean :(

d4ddysgirl: give the dog a treat! she’s been good :c

the comments encourage you to give her a reward, so, you might as well. right?

you purr at the weeping girl beneath you, kissing away saltine teardrops as your delicate palm caresss her inner thigh; keeping her nice and districted as your other hand finds the toy box set off to the far right. pulling out a matte black leather harness and sparkling galaxy dildo. a present your girlfriend had given you a while back.

her eyes flutter shut when you tongue invades her mouth, her own pushing out to meet yours in a sloppy tango. large, scarred hands grab at the back of your neck, burying themselves in your hair as she tries her best to keep you close.

she can’t hear the faint click of the metal buckles over the wet smack of your lips; only aware of what’s going on around her once the bulbous, manmade head of your cock nudges her leaking hole. her legs would’ve snapped shut, if it weren’t for your waist being in the way. squirming backwards to run from the impending doom that is your cock; standing tall and proud between your thighs.

“ah, hey—“ violet squeaks, breaking away from the kiss in a panic because that damn thing is way too big. “—I can’t take that!”

“yes you can.” comes your unavoidable encouragement, the obnoxious chimes of donations hitting your bank account filling the ringing silence. this’ll probably one of your biggest streams, yet. “I know you can.”

you’ve got to keep the show rolling.

“you’re my good girl, yeah?”

she eventually nods with a pitiful hiccup, trembling limbs reluctantly spreading wide as your reach back down; spreading her slick along your cock like lube. she’s wet enough for it, embarrassingly.

“I’m your good girl.” she agrees, raising her hips as you drag a pillow below her lower back. you’re going to give the audience what they want in due time, but damn your girl being uncomfortable. her ankles lock around your back as you slide your dick through her folds, the smooth silicone against her pussy doing numbers on her nerve receptors.

her spine locks in a rigid arch as you guide the head down to her narrow entry way, slowly pushing the girthy mass in with quiet concentration. your brows furl as she cries, pressing a hand down on her tense tummy to make sure she doesn’t try to escape again.

fat pussy lips stretch over your cock, the loud squelch of you invading her insides make her wanting to curl up and die on the spot. this isn’t the first time you’ve had intercourse, no. but it damn sure feels like it.

vi’s fingers scramble to try and pry your hands off of her, but you just smack them away. contemplating restraining them behind her head once you’ve bottomed out. her bitching and whining have only gotten louder, and that’s only gaining you more and more viewers from stream shares and recommendations.

“good girl, vi. take it for me, baby.”

her tight cunny clings to the thick dildo, preventing you from pulling out too far as you slowly rock your hips back and forth. the stinging pain everytime your tip crashes into her cervix excruciating, yet blissful.

blunt nails drag down your forearms to leave scorching red lines in their wake, body set alight with ecstacy as your pace slowly accelerates. one of her eyelids has fallen heavy; jaw dropped loosely, tongue lolled out against her bottom lip and slippery with drool. she looks like one of those girls you’d find in a poorly animated hentai video. and you’re loving it.

“everyone seein’ this?” you hum, reaching back for the webcam and holding it in unsteadily. focusing it on violet’s pornographic expression as you somehow fuck yourself deeper into her twisted insides, the tip just a bit away from breaching her womb. the expertly carved veins rub deliciously against her g-spot. and, it’s then, she knows it’s over.

“isn’t she so pretty? getting fucked like a dog.”

she can even think to hide herself as the pressure in her stomach reaches an all time high. sobbing into the air as a mindboggling, soulshattering orgasm shreds through her very being. vi’s face scrunches in what seems like pain as she gushes around your cock, throat stuttering to let out a deep, choked up, howling, moan she can barely get out.

a few more agonizing thrusts to work her through elation, and she’s beggging for you to pull out. cunt sore and raw from the beating it’s been through. you know good and well she’s done with sex for the night.

slowly drawing your hips back, you try to be as careful as possible. even as she’s blubbering and coughing beneath you. you worry, in the back of your mind, that your viewers haven’t had their fill. which would mean that you’d stop racking in checks. but, you were pleasantly wrong.

you didn’t really have time to look at your phone, but you knew they were sending something good. or hoped, at least.

“you did such a good job, baby. such a good job.” your praises are like a morning bird’s chirps to her. leaning into your warm chest as you wipe her up with dampened washcloth, already prepared before even hitting the on switch.

once she’s cleaned up and ready for bed, you give a curt goodbye to your fans. turning off your camera and the phone it’s connected to, tossing them on the dresser to be forgotten about for the rest of the night.

she’s almost asleep, lashes fluttering as her eyes struggle to stay open. you can’t blame her, she’s been through some intense shit.

“going to sleep?” you ask, laughing as she nods and rolls her head onto your shoulder. soft snores soon filling the otherwise quiet air; save for the tv you just turned on, and the faint whirr of the air conditioning. she clings to you like a baby koala would hang onto its mother, not letting you move an inch away. it’s just too comfortable and her body’s already immobilized with exhaustion. “annnnd she’s out.”

in some way you manage to wiggle your way under the sheets with vi still on top of you, slowly pulling the covers up and draping them around you both. this would probably be the best rest she’s had in forever.

“sleep tight, honey.”

[moonstruckme]

hai lovie!!! im not sure of youve written something like this for emt!marauders yet but could you write something where they come home from work to reader lying on the floor on the hallway due to having low blood pressure and shed tried to go get something to eat or something but had started feeling faint and had to lie down? and then when they come up to reader she starts to cry because being unwell makes her anxious (im not fussed if you dont add that last part up to you <3). i had really low blood pressure the other day and bad to lie on the floor for a good two hours and it really stressed me out :< anyway thanks lovie i hope youre doing well !!!!

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of dizziness, nausea, worries about being alone when unwell and also being unwell in general

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re half propped up with your elbow on a step when you hear the front door open. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello!” comes James’ chipper reply, followed by Sirius’ groan and the clunking of shoes as he no doubt kicks them off, beelining for the couch. After a moment of you not appearing to greet them, James asks, “Where are you?” 

“I’m—here.” You soften your voice when Sirius walks by the stairs, his step faltering as he locks eyes with you. 

His eyebrows bunch, concerned before he really knows why. “What’re you doing?” 

“I’m…” You shrug limply, trying on a helpless smile. Tears threaten to spill over from the way your eyes squish up. “I don’t feel right.” 

Sirius has only taken his first, slow step toward you, bemusement written across his features, before James and Remus are behind him at the base of the stairs. 

“Oh. Hi, angel.” James’ voice matches his expression, all gentleness, and worry hidden beneath counterfeit cheer. “Having a little lie down?” 

“Yeah,” you say. Sirius’ touch is a relief as he reaches you. He cups your face and feels your forehead, brows stitched together. You’re happy to be in capable hands. “I started to fall, so I just laid down here. I’m a bit dizzy.” 

There’s only so many of you that can fit on the stairs. James makes it to you next, crouching beside Sirius to take your hand in his and press his fingers to your pulse, so Remus is left peering over them both. He frowns, looking conflicted about his inability to help and worried in general. You try another smile for his sake; unfortunately, this time, the tears do spill. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Sirius says, no real chiding in his tone as he knuckles them from your cheeks. 

“Sorry.” You force yourself to breathe, but new ones come anyway. It’s a slow sort of cry, the result of a good long while feeling sorry for yourself. “I just, I felt sick, so I tried to go upstairs to the toilet, but then I started to faint and I didn’t think I could make it back down to my phone, and I didn’t know when you would be home, or if anyone would find me…” 

“We’re here now, though, sweetheart,” Remus stops you gently. “It all worked out alright. You’re okay.” 

“Yeah.” You wipe underneath your eyes. “I think my blood pressure just dropped all of a sudden or something, but I still feel weird. It was scary.” 

“I think you’re right,” James says. He runs his thumb over your wrist. “I mean, I’d like to think it’s just because we’re home and you’re pleased to see us, but your heart’s going pretty fast, m’love. How long ago did you lie down here?” 

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffling, feeling silly. “I don’t have my phone. Less than an hour, I think.” 

Remus hums. “That’s still a long while.” 

Honestly, you feel better just having your boyfriends here with you. Partly because of the security, of course, that you know you won’t faint and hit your head with no one to help you, but also, perhaps, there’s a small part of you that enjoys their fussing. The concerned set of Sirius’ brow, the way Remus’ mouth puckers thoughtfully, how James keeps rubbing his thumb over your wrist like he can soothe your heart back into its regular rhythm. 

“Well, then.” Sirius pats your hip, rising from his crouch. “Not much point in figuring it all out here, is there? C’mon, pretty girl, that step has to be killing your side.” 

It’s true; you think the edge of the step probably leaves an indent in your waist after you let Sirius haul you up, supporting you down the stairs and over to the couch. 

“I don’t feel as dizzy as I was expecting,” you admit. “Maybe I was overreacting.” 

“You?” Sirius exclaims, feigning astoundment. 

“Better to be safe,” says Remus. He claims a spot next to you quickly, as though seizing his opportunity. It makes your lips tug. “I’m glad you were careful, love.” 

You lean your head on his shoulder in a silent plea for coddling; he appeases you, pressing his lips to your hair while Sirius pinches the skin of your forearm gently. You watch him with mild interest. 

“When was the last time you drank water?” he asks. 

“Um…” You think back. 

Sirius lets go of your skin and tuts. “Yeah, seems like it’s been long enough for you not to remember.” 

“On it,” James announces, coming back from the kitchen with a large glass of water. He passes it to you over the back of the couch, and it’s so full a tiny bit spills over the rim onto your wrist, making you shiver. “It’s more common than you’d think for dehydration to do that to you. Gotta be careful.” 

“Yes,” says Remus drily, though his arm comes around your shoulders. “Rather easily avoidable.” 

You shrink, mumbling, “Sorry,” into your glass. 

James awws and bends over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on your head, his good cheer restored, genuinely now. “We all forget sometimes, lovie.” 

“Don’t enable her,” Sirius tells him. He cradles your arm in his hand, stroking the skin he’d pinched as though in apology for his treatment of it. “Don’t listen to him. It’s a grave oversight and you must repent forever.” 

“Forever?” Your smile still feels weak, but you’re coming back to yourself some. “How will I do that?” 

“Mm,” Sirius takes to kissing your arm instead, mumbling with a sternness that borders upon silly, “start with filling your water bottle every day before leaving the house, and at least three times after that.” 

You go quiet, gaze sliding to Remus skeptically. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Is that…really how much I’m supposed to have?”

His other eyebrow lifts, too. “Yes.” 

“Every day?” 

“Yes.” Remus laughs, exasperated. “Yes, that’s the water intake your body needs.” 

“There’s no way everyone’s doing that.” 

“They’re not,” James agrees. “Instead, everyone is getting dizzy and calling us so we can go pick them up from halfway up the stairs.” 

You bring the glass back to your lips, muttering, “I didn’t call, you just found me.” 

James kisses your head again, fiercely. “And we always will, lucky girl.”

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, Mark is so down bad

Word Count: 2,430

Synopsis: Mark thought senior year would be business as usual—until you walked in with your sundress, Southern drawl, and a smile sweet enough to stop time. Now he’s flustered, floored, and falling faster than you can say “bless your heart.”

Mark Grayson had never met anyone who said “bless your heart” and meant it.

But then again, he’d also never met anyone quite like you.

You walked into senior year like you’d wandered off the set of an old movie—sun-kissed curls, soft floral dress, and the kind of voice that could convince a man to hand over his wallet and then thank you for the privilege.

He’d barely registered your name when you smiled and said, “It’s such a pleasure to meet y’all,” in that syrupy-smooth drawl that melted his brain like butter in a hot skillet.

Then by some chance of fate you were moving towards him, the hem of your dress swaying with each step.

“Good mornin’. Is this seat taken?” You ask it sweet as a songbird, southern lilt strong and unmistakable.

“N-no—I mean, yes. No, it’s not. Taken. You can sit. Please. Yes.”

Lord have mercy.

You slide into the desk next to him, setting your notebook down with delicate little motions that feel straight out of a tea party. Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, you turn toward him and offer your hand—palm down, fingers dainty, like you’re expecting him to bow or kiss it or something.

“I’m [y/n]. I just moved up here from Georgia.”

Mark stares at your hand like it’s a museum exhibit. Is this a handshake? Is he supposed to—what is this?? His brain completely blanks.

And for a horrifying half-second… he leans in.

Like actually starts going for it. Lips slightly puckered. Brain offline. And then—Wait. No.

Nope nope nope can’t kiss people’s knuckles in school, that’s not a thing, what are you doing??

He aborts the mission so hard it turns into a full-body spasm, catching himself just in time to awkwardly grab your fingers in what might technically qualify as a handshake, but mostly feels like someone trying to high-five a porcelain doll.

“I’m Mark. Grayson. Mark Grayson,” he blurts, voice about three pitches higher than it should be.

You just smile like you didn’t notice any of it—like boys almost kissing your hand and glitching in real time is a perfectly ordinary Tuesday.

“All right, folks,” Mr. Ellison’s voice cuts through the low hum of conversation like a guillotine, “let’s settle in. Schedules or not, biology waits for no one.”

A few students groan as they shuffle back into their seats. Mark jerks his hand back like it’s been caught doing something illegal and turns toward the front of the room, suddenly hyper-focused on absolutely nothing.

You, meanwhile, cross your ankles beneath your desk and flip open your notebook like you’re starring in some 1950s prep school movie. Calm, composed, and utterly unbothered.

He swore he might never recover.

And he’s not sure how you’ve only been in class for five minutes and already made the air smell like magnolias and peach cobbler.

You’re sitting there ike you don’t feel the way time slows down in your wake. You tuck a loose curl behind your ear, pulling out a mechanical pencil that’s been decorated with little sparkly rhinestones. He watches the way your fingers move. Is it weird to think fingers can be pretty? That’s weird, right?

God, he hopes he doesn’t smell like gym socks.

You nudge his elbow gently.

“Do y’all have any spare textbooks? I didn’t get mine yet.”

You’re looking at him like you’re asking for help with a flat tire or directions to the county fair, and he knows this is his moment to say something smooth, something cool. Instead:

“You can use mine. I mean. We can share. You can just—look at mine. The book. Together. Like. With me.”

You blink once. Then that smile spreads across your face again, warm and syrupy-sweet.

“Well, aren’t you just the kindest thing.”

He swears, it echoes in his brain. Kindest thing. Kindest thing. Kindest thing.

This is it. This is how he dies.

You scoot your desk just a little closer, enough for your shoulder to brush his. He pretends he doesn’t feel it. He definitely feels it.

The teacher starts class, and Mark tries to focus on mitochondria or whatever, but it’s useless. He’s hyper-aware of how close you are, how you hum under your breath when you read, how you dot your i’s with little hearts.

It’s only the first period of the first day and he’s already cooked.

You’re just starting to lean in closer, mouthing something to yourself as the teacher drones on about cell structures, when a knock comes at the classroom door. Mr. Ellison barely glances up.

“Come in.”

It’s a teacher’s aide holding a clipboard, already scanning the desks.

“Sorry to interrupt. We need a [y/n] [l/n] in the front office? Something about enrollment forms and schedule confirmations.”

You blink, surprised, then gather your few things with a little flurry of motion—your notebook, your pencil with the rhinestones, your tiny floral purse that looks like it belongs at a garden party instead of a high school.

Mark doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until you stand.

Your dress sways gently as you rise, cotton fabric hugging your waist and floating just enough around your thighs to catch the light. The scent of something soft and floral—peach blossoms and vanilla, maybe—lingers in the air as you pass.

He stares.

It’s not polite, not for as long as he does, but his eyes follow the way your hair bounces, the delicate sway in your hips, the tiny heeled shoes clicking daintily against the tile. That dress—Lord, that dress—should be out of place here. It should be too much. But on you? It looks like it was made to be worn in a room full of people who’ll never be able to look at anyone else again.

She’s not real, he thinks.

She can’t be real.

Then you glance over your shoulder—just the quickest little look—and offer him the faintest smile.

“I’ll be back in a bit, sugar.”

SUGAR.

Yeah. He’s gone. Forever. Call the coroner. Mark Grayson just died in AP Biology.

The rest of class drags like wet cement.

Mark keeps glancing toward the door, holding out hope like some desperate, starry-eyed fool. Every time someone walks past in the hallway, his head snaps up just in case it’s you coming back.

It never is.

Eventually, the bell rings. Mark’s still staring at the empty desk next to him like it owes him an apology. He packs up slower than anyone else in the room, dragging his feet in the hope that maybe—maybe—you’ll walk through that door at the last second.

But you don’t.

He sighs, shouldering his bag and heading out, trying to forget the little pang of disappointment in his chest.

And then, just as he passes the front office, the doors open—and there you are, warm light hitting your hair like a movie moment. You spot him instantly.

“Oh, thank goodness it’s you, sug!”

Your face lights up like you’ve just found a long-lost friend at a train station. You hurry toward him, holding a pink slip of paper and looking thoroughly flustered in the most adorable way imaginable.

“Would you mind helpin’ me find my next class? This place is more confusin’ than a cat in a room full’a rockin’ chairs.”

Mark blinks. He has never loved an idiom more in his life.

“Y-yeah. I can—I mean, sure. What room?”

“214, I think. It’s so much bigger here than my old school. I’ve turned around twice and still don’t know where I’m goin’.” You say it with a laugh, brushing a curl behind your ear, and Mark swears the hallway gets brighter.

He nods too hard, again. “It’s this way. I got you.”

(Lies. He has no idea where 214 is. He’s gonna find it though. Even if he has to check every door in the building.)

You fall into step beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, arms folded delicately around your binders and purse slung over your shoulder. He’s hyper-aware of the faint floral scent trailing behind you, of how your heels click softly on the linoleum like the start of a country love song.

“I knew I’d get turned around sooner or later,” you say, puffing out a breath and pouting slightly. “This place really is twistier than a squirrel in a slinky.”

Mark lets out a half-laugh, like his brain’s buffering.

“A… squirrel in a slinky?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod, entirely serious. “Back home, my school was so small we didn’t even have second floors. You could sneeze in the cafeteria and they’d bless you from the front office.”

Mark is looking at you like you just stepped out of a storybook. You’re not even trying to be charming—it’s just who you are. Like gravity.

“What school did you go to?”

“A little one in Magnolia County. Real small. We didn’t have lockers—we had cubbies. And everybody knew everybody’s mama. If you so much as chewed gum in class, your pastor’d hear about it by supper.”

He snorts. “That sounds… intense.”

“It was! But sweet, too. Like… honeysuckle in the middle of summer. Kinda sticky, kinda pretty.” You glance at him sideways. “You ever been to the south?”

“Uh… I think we had a layover in Dallas once.”

You laugh like that’s the funniest thing anyone’s said all week, hand fluttering lightly over your chest.

“Darlin’, that don’t count. That’s just airport barbecue and overpriced peanuts. You gotta feel the south. Sweat through three shirts before noon. Go fishin’ with your uncle and come home sunburned and full’a peach cobbler.”

He swallows. He doesn’t know if it’s from the imagery or just the way you say darlin’ like it’s a nickname you’ve known him by forever.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

You hum, smiling to yourself. “Well, if you ever decide to take a road trip down there, let me know. I make a mean sweet tea. Mama says it’ll knock the sin right outta ya.”

Mark chokes.

“T-the sin?”

“Mmhmm,” you say, all innocence. “But you don’t seem like you got too much in you.”

He nearly trips on the floor tile.

The two of you reach the door of room 214 much sooner than he would have liked.

“Oh, look! I think this is it,” you say, sounding like you've just solved the mystery of the universe.

Mark looks at the door, trying to hide the slight twitch in his brow. Didn’t this damn door know he was planning on searching the entire school?

“I—yeah, I guess it is,” he mutters. You give him a naïve smile, oblivious to the dramatic tension building in his brain.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t drag you halfway across campus, sug. You’ve been a real help.”

Mark rubs the back of his neck, trying to shake the annoyance off. He can’t help it—he just really wanted to spend more time with you. Hear you talk about something else. Maybe you’d say another weird idiom or, hell, he'd even take a long-winded story about peach cobbler at this point.

His mind drifts to a random idiom you might drop next time. Maybe something like… “That’s as tricky as a two-headed coin.”  

… Yeah, no, that doesn’t even make sense. But the way you say things—just offbeat enough to make him laugh, just charming enough to make him want to hear more—it doesn’t matter if it’s nonsense.

Just as he’s about to say something about how it wasn’t a big deal, he watches you dig around in your purse. Then suddenly you’re pulling out a piece of candy—something like hard caramel wrapped in shiny foil.

You look up at him with that sweet smile of yours, holding it out toward him. “Here, this is for all your trouble.”

He blinks at the offering, a little stunned, because who in the world does that in high school? But before he can protest, you’re already wiggling the candy closer to him, your smile practically glowing.

“Go on, don’t be shy,” you tease, southern drawl as thick (and cute) as ever. “Grandma always says if you’re gonna think real hard, you gotta have a lil’ sugar. Should help you through the rest of the day.” You wink, and he swears his future with you flashed before his eyes—white picket fence, hound dog on the front porch, kids on a tire swing hung from a big oak tree and all.

Mark takes the candy like it’s a live grenade—carefully, reverently, like he might mess it up just by holding it wrong. His fingers brush yours for half a second, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t just collapse right there in the hallway.

“I, uh… thanks,” he says, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end.

You beam at him like he just passed some kind of unspoken southern etiquette test. “Ain’t nothin’ to it, sugar. Just don’t let it melt in your pocket, or you’ll be stickier than a porch swing in July.”

He has no idea what that means. None. But he nods like it’s the gospel truth.

You turn toward the classroom, situating the bag of candy back in your purse like this is just what you do—hand out sweets, say things that fry the circuits in people’s brain, waltz into lives like you were always meant to be there.

He opens the door for you without thinking. Of course he does.

“Why, thank you, darlin’,” you say as you pass him, and Mark’s pretty sure he just got knighted or something.

Then you walk into the room like a literal princess—soft sway in your step, curls bouncing just so, your dress catching the air like it’s got a mind of its own. And he stands there. Watching. Staring, really.

The door starts to close behind you, slow and dramatic like the final scene of a movie, and Mark's still standing there, candy in hand, wondering if anyone’s ever ruined a man’s sense of reality this fast—with just a smile and a drawl and a purse full of sugar.

read part two ❀ꗥ～ Here! ～ꗥ❀

[bi-writes]

ok wait pause i have a question. first date, but like, real, you are my girlfriend date ? or like how'd they define their relationship (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

he's...fun.

it's just sex. mind-blowing, back-numbing, pussy-destroying sex. this man is pushing 40, and you swear you've never felt so out of breath. you convince yourself it's the military thing--he's used to pushing himself, exerting energy, testing the limits of his stamina. but holy shit, you'd think after round four, this man would take a quick nap or something, but no.

he's still balls-deep, hitting it from the back since you can't even keep yourself upright any longer. your skirt lays haphazardly thrown onto the floor, and oh--there's your panties, too, ripped to lacy shreds.

holy shit, this man is more than ten years older than you, and you've never been so out of your fucking mind--

"tha' the spot, love?" his voice is so condescending. he knows he's got you brainless. there's drool staining your lips, and you paw at the sheets for a better grip, but it's useless.

"y-yes, captain."

the low groan that leaves him makes you smile. he might have the upper hand, but if you really wanted to, you could make him come right now, too fast, too much.

you're in bliss. everything is bliss. you're still recovering from what must be the fifth or sixth orgasm--not as good as the second or third one, but still enough to make you cry fat, pleasured tears. you're shaking, in a good way, sinking to your stomach on the bed and pressing your face into his pillow.

"hmm..." your voice is soft and gooey, and when you take a deep breath, you get a long whiff of him. he smells good. clean. earthy. you tasted cigar smoke in his mouth earlier, and you can smell it here, too. just as you relax, you feel the weight of him on your back, and then his lips. he's kissing along your shoulder to your neck and then up your jaw. you tilt your head to give him room, your eyes shutting as his beard scruffs against your skin and his mouth laps at your chin. "i gotta go, john."

you giggle when he lays his entire body on top of yours, trapping you there. you reach up and grip the back of his neck, whining as he flattens his tongue against your jaw and swirls it there.

"john...i gotta go."

"why?"

"mmm..." you thumb at the hair along his scalp, shaking your head. "don't do this, john."

"not doing anythin'."

"we don't sleep over, john."

"what, is tha' some kind of rule? sounds mad."

you turn over a little, looking up at him. you cup his beard in both hands, giving him a chaste kiss.

"don't ruin it, john," you say softly. "this is supposed to be fun."

he tilts his head to the side. he looks so funny without a hat. you've seen him in a beanie, a boonie hat, a cap, you love them all on him. he looks nice like this, too, though--ass naked with his dog tags dangling against his sweaty pecs.

john's eyes twitch a little at your indifference. he settles on his side, leaning over you, and just as you move to get up, he reaches and grips at your face with a big paw of a hand. you clutch at his forearm, big and solid, and your lips pucker as he pulls you closer to him.

"y'r a bad liar, love," he mutters, shaking his head. "fear doesn't suit you."

"i'm not fucking scared."

"who was it?"

you glare up at him, struggling a bit under him. it's a stupid thing to think that you could get away from him. john is not moveable. he's a big fucking tree trunk of a man, with roots that burrow, and you are truly naïve if you think he'll let you up without an answer.

"shut the fuck up, john," you spit at him, but all he does is raise a brow. he's immune to your bite. he's not phased by your sour attempt at insulting him. in fact, it's what drew him to your bed in the first place--certified brat-tamer, captain john price. "you think you're so fucking smart. think you know everything, just because you've got a few years on me, well let me tell you, john--not everything is a fucking lesson learned. you're a military muppet with a decent cock, and that's all you'll ever be to me."

"tha' right?"

"you'll never put me first. you've got one woman, and that's the job, and that's fucking fine, john, but don't make this something it's not. you're lonely, and old, and your failed relationships don't make you wiser, they make you delusional for thinking that doing this again could ever--"

your breath falters when he kisses you. he squeezes your jaw a little harder, forcing your mouth to open, and you moan, squeezing your thighs together when he licks into your mouth and holds you there for him to play with.

"i do have other obligations. my men, the job..." he brushes the hair out of your eyes, and he presses his forehead to yours when he sees the tremble of your bottom lip and the wet look in your eyes. "but i don't do casual, sweetheart. it's all or nothing f'me."

your hand grips his wrist, squeezing tight, and you blink up at him. he's so close. he's right here. blue eyes, greying beard, a sad expression. he's not afraid of dying alone, but he is afraid of wasting time.

"please don't do this to me, john." your voice cracks, and he shrugs. he's sorry, but he's not sorry enough. not enough to let you go--and you're not strong enough to tell him no. it has to be him, but it won't be.

"it's alright," john whispers, but he knows it won't be. he's known you not but a few weeks, but he's made up his mind. he doesn't understand casual. even from the moment he saw you in that bar, it wasn't fleeting, it was definitive. it would be his. you would be his.

even if you were actually someone else's. even if you were bound to someone else. even if you weren't alone, it was already decided.

john's teeth are stuck here, right here, in the hollow of your throat. his fingers are twisted between the chords of your heart and in the spaces between your ribs. if he lets go, he'll break you apart.

so he's never going to let go.

[potato-lord-but-not]

Potato I’m coming into your asks with my head in my hands but I have to ask: how the HELL do you draw people kissing, you’ve gotten it down in such a ‘satisfying’ way I need to know your secrets

okay this is probably going to be really incomprehensible but I am TRYING my BEST

first, we must implement the tilt method. you want your faces to be tilting in opposite directions as to make room for the kiss. the heads tend to make a heart shape if you’re normal and draw the heads completely (oops). And the lips create a zig zag type shape. the person tilting towards us (right figure) having their nose and top lip visible, and the person tilting away (left figure) has just their bottom lip and chin visible.

and you can use this for two people being close, just about to kiss. although you don’t have to tilt em as far since they have more leeway, but the principle is still there

you can play around with this tho, and I have a few different ways of drawing a kiss to portray different things-

1 is more puckered, a light playful kiss that may not last long

2 has the mouths create an O shape, giving an air of a breathy slightly desperate kiss. it gives the impression that the kiss isn’t the focus, these two are more focused on what their hands are doing, how close they are, soaking in the feeling of being intimate ect etc.

3 is wider, closer, there could be some tongue action going on. They miss eachother and they want to smash their faces together as humanly possible

You can also use these when only one person is giving the kiss !!

PHASE TWO REAL WORLD EXAMPLES because one thing that aids in a good kiss is the BODY LANGUAGE. it gives the kiss more life and feeling, the above examples even have some shoulder action to further the vibe. Anyway. Exhibit A

a subtle tilt, but that works in favor of creating a more relaxed feel. their kiss is a mix between 2 n 3, wide and open, messy and passionate. they’re definitely taking their time.

this one’s a body language one !! just the kiss alone has much less going for it compared to the way they’re tangled together. Ford (right) is more relaxed, more confident. And Arthur (left) is a bit more weary but letting Ford take the lead. Arthur has his lips puckered more, while Ford’s are more relaxed and a bit more open (although it’s very subtle)

This one is mainly kiss with body language as an aid. Arthur’s (right) head is tilted up instead of to the side, leaving Oscar (left) to pick whichever direction. The kiss is mainly 3, with a hint of 2 to communicate the more desperate and eager vibe. This is also paired with the subtle head tilt away from eachother and solid position they’re in. This creates a relaxed and content feel, like they started off hungry but ultimately don’t want to take it any further.

Subtle head tilt, a kiss between 1 n 2, and idle bodies make for a relaxed, domestic and intimate feeling. they’re sharing a kiss that was intended to be quick, but they lingered a few seconds too long and now they’ll stay there for a good 15 minutes. hands resting on the other, lips gently touching, words exchanged between moments of no contact.

GOD SORRY ANYWAY I spent way too long rambling about my podcast men kissing I hope this was insightful I’ll take my leave

[starkeyisthelastname]

Need mutual masturbation with stepbro rafe 🤠 leading in just rubbing but "accidentally" put in

he just can’t help himself 🙄💕

It was in your pretty pink bedroom of all places. Your gorgeous self was laid on the silky sheets, naked except for a pair of white lace panties. Rafe was in complete awe, rubbing his hard-on in the boxers he wore. It was taking everything in him not to pull his cock out and shove it in your tiny hole, instead watching your manicured hands slowly run down your body. He sniffed, blue eyes raking over your figure as those ridiculous acrylics came to the hem of your panties. His face remained unfazed as he gave you a nod.

“Those off too. I wanna watch you touch your pussy.” He said bluntly, trying to hide his excitement.

You nervously pulled them off, closing your legs once the material fell on the floor. You shouldn’t be letting your stepbrother see your most intimate parts, but Rafe kept telling you he knew best and you didn’t know any better but to listen to him. Your poor cunt was betraying you as well, juices leaking down to your little puckered hole as he took his hands and spread your legs open.

Rafe couldn’t help but gawk at your puffy folds. His stepsister’s pussy was the prettiest cunt he had ever seen and he had to put his dick into it. His hooded eyes traveled back up, noticing the nervous look on your face. “Don’t be scared. Yeah? I know you play with yourself. Lemme see.” He said, deciding not to admit completely that he had watched you masturbate a time or two.

Your glittery nails slowly began rubbing yourself, letting out a sigh as you circled over your aching clit. You were embarrassingly soaked, running your fingers down your slippery folds. Your heavy eyes slipped close, sliding a digit in your tight hole as you let out a whine. You didn’t even hear Rafe pulling off his boxers, until he tapped your cheek. “Watch me stroke my cock while you touch yourself.” He rasped out, wrapping his hand around his fat length.

Your eyes fluttered open, the view of your stepbrother with his bangs in his face, abs on display and big cock in hand made you whimper. He jerked his cock slowly, blue irises glued to you as you fingered your cunt. He was losing control, the ache running to his nuts as he wanted to fuck you hard. “Rub your clit for me.” He said, stepping closer. He was about to do real naughty shit to his stepsister.

As your fingers traveled up to rub your clit, your stomach tensed as you felt the head of his cock touch your folds. “Rafe.. what are you doing?” You squeaked out, digits slowing down on your pearl.

“Shh… keep rubbing that shit for me.” Rafe spat out, running his cock up and down your juicy folds. He knew exactly what he was about to do and just couldn’t hold himself back. His tip slid in, his eyes nearly rolling back as he felt your hole immediately grip his dick. “Oh shit.. my bad sis.” He mumbled, holding back a smile as he pushed himself in a little further.

Your mouth fell open and eyebrows furrowed as you felt his huge cock start to stretch you out. He said nothing about doing this and you didn’t even know how to react. You weren’t sure if you even wanted him to stop, you felt more full than you ever could have imagined. “What are you?… Y-you’re so big.” You jumbled out, head dizzy as he continued to cram himself inside your tight cunt.

Rafe had never felt anything more perfect, wet or tight in his entire life. He didn’t care whatsoever that his father or sisters could walk in, all he wanted to do is pound his little slut of a stepsister’s amazing fucking pussy. “I know baby, I am big and you gotta tiny fuckin’ pussy.” He grunted, burying himself all the way in. There was no way he was ever letting you out his sight again, he had you now and was gonna ruin your life. “Be a good slut and take your stepbro’s cock in your pretty hole.” His tone commanding, his hand coming to wrap around your throat to make you absolute lose it.

[lazy-ahh]

i hope you don’t mind a request 😔 mark and reader sitting in his college dorm and explaining everything that happened on thraxa. he briefly mentions the clothing they gave him to wear (that toga thing) and gawd if i were his bf/parter i would go ham asking to see him in it so i can call him pretty and spin him and kiss him silly

THRAXAN DRESS CODE: SMASH OR PASS

pairing mark grayson x male reader

mark grayson has survived battles, aliens, and the horrors of thraxa—but none of it prepared him for the real threat: you, utterly obsessed with how good he looks in that stupid, shimmering thraxan outfit.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff

you’re sitting cross-legged on mark’s dorm bed, the cheap college mattress squeaking under you as you lean forward, elbows propped on your knees. the sheets are rumpled beneath you, still warm from where he’d been sitting moments before. your eyes are wide, lips quirking into a grin as you press, "okay, wait—so they just gave you a… what, like, a dress-looking thing? and expected you to just know how to wear it?"

mark snorts, rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s embarrassed. "dude, it was so awkward," he says, flopping back onto the bed with a huff. his arms flail a little as he reenacts the moment. "picture this—i’m standing there, still covered in, like, dry blood or whatever, and this thraxan—they look like giant blue praying mantis, by the way—just drops this flowy fabric into my hands." he sits up suddenly, gesturing wildly. "no instructions, no 'hey, human, here’s how you tie this,' just boom. alien laundry."

you bite your lip to keep from laughing as he mimics his own confusion, hands fumbling in the air like he’s trying to fold an invisible sheet. "i swear," he groans, "i looked like a toddler trying to put on a cape for the first time. just spinning in circles until someone took pity on me. i was literally wearing a mini skirt the whole time i was there."

you snort, shaking your head hard enough that a few strands of hair flop into your eyes. "i need to see this. like, right now," you demand, kicking your legs a little against the mattress for emphasis.

"what? no way," mark groans, letting his entire body go limp as he flops backward onto the bed. the springs creak under him, and he throws an arm over his face like he’s trying to hide. "it was so embarrassing. like, ritualistically embarrassing."

"oh, come on," you whine, immediately scrambling over him—knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips as you loom above him. you poke his side, right where you know he’s ticklish, and grin when he jerks with a half-stifled laugh. "you can’t just drop ‘i wore a sexy alien toga’ and not show me. that’s, like—intergalactically illegal."

mark peeks out from under his arm, squinting up at you. "sexy? you don’t even know what it looks like," he mutters, but his voice cracks just enough to betray him.

"yes, sexy," you insist, dragging out the word as you shift your weight, settling more firmly against him. your fingers sneak under the hem of his shirt, tracing idle circles on his waist just to feel him shiver. "now please? for me?" you bat your eyelashes obnoxiously, lips puckered in a mock pout—but then you soften, leaning down to nuzzle your nose against his. "c’mon, grayson. don’t make me beg."

mark rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t stick, but you feel it—the way his breath hitches when your arms tighten around him, the warm flush creeping up his neck.

"ugh, fine," he grumbles, dragging the word out like it physically pains him as he pushes himself upright. the bed creaks in protest as he swings his legs over the side, bare feet hitting the dorm’s scuffed linoleum with a soft thud. "but if you laugh," he warns, jabbing a finger in your direction, "i’m breaking up with you. permanently."

"noted," you say, pressing a hand to your chest like you’re taking a sacred vow—before immediately ruining the solemn act with a poorly-suppressed giggle that escapes through your nose in a tiny snort.

mark’s eyes narrow into a look—the kind that says you’re lucky you’re cute—before he turns and stomps the three steps to his closet. he yanks the door open with more force than necessary, making the hinges whine, and starts shoving aside hoodies and crumpled laundry with aggressive rustling. after a minute of muttering ("where the hell—? oh, come on—"), he finally pulls out the thraxan outfit—a cascade of delicate, shimmering fabric that spills over his arms like liquid moonlight, so stupidly elegant against his sleep-rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants. he holds it up by the shoulders, nose scrunched in hesitation, and you have to physically clamp your lips between your teeth to stop yourself from cooing like an overexcited pigeon.

"okay," he huffs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "turn around."

"what? no!" you protest, scrambling to kneel at the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress like a kid at a candy store window. "i wanna see the whole—process." you wiggle your eyebrows for emphasis.

"absolutely not," mark says, pointing at you with the kind of exaggerated sternness usually reserved for misbehaving puppies. "turn. around."

you sigh like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, slumping forward until your forehead thunks against the cinderblock wall in defeat. behind you, there’s more rustling—fabric whispering against skin, a frustrated "how does this even—? ugh, stupid alien clothing—", the muffled snap of a waistband. then, after a beat of silence:

"...okay. you can look."

you spin around so fast your socks nearly skid on the dorm's cheap linoleum—and then your brain completely flatlines.

mark stands there, the thraxan outfit clinging to every unfairly sculpted inch of him like it was made to highlight his stupidly perfect body. the sleeveless design puts his arms on full display—those obscene biceps that flex when he shifts his weight, the defined ridges of his shoulders that you've bitten marks into more times than you can count. the fabric cinches snug around his waist, emphasizing how narrow it is compared to his chest, and holy shit, you could probably span it with your hands if you tried. but the real crime is the skirt—riding up just high enough on his thighs to show off the muscle there, thick and powerful from all those hours of flying, and you have to physically swallow around the sudden dryness in your throat.

the material shimmers under the crappy dorm lights, catching every shift of his body like liquid silver against his warm skin. he's blushing hard, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the skirt like he's torn between tugging it down or ripping the whole thing off. his biceps tense as he crosses his arms—god, why does that make his chest look even broader?—and the way the fabric stretches across his shoulders should be illegal.

"so…?" he prompts, voice cracking a little, and it's adorable how nervous he sounds when he looks like that.

you don’t answer. can’t. your mouth is hanging open like a broken hinge, your pulse roaring in your ears loud enough to drown out coherent thought. all you can process is: mark. thighs. waist. arms. holyfuckingSHIT—

your brain helpfully supplies an image of grabbing that skirt and yanking him closer, feeling all that muscle under your hands, and wow, okay, maybe you should lay down before you pass out.

"uh... you good?" mark waves a hand slowly in front of your glazed-over eyes, fingers snapping twice near your ear. his eyebrows pinch together—and yeah, okay, you get the concern, because your heart is hammering so violently you can feel it in your throat, your wrists, even your damn eyelids. it's like your entire nervous system just blue-screened the second you saw him.

"pretty," you finally choke out, the word punched out of you like you've been sucker-punched by how unfair he looks.

mark blinks, nose scrunching. "huh?"

"you're so pretty," you breathe, and then you're moving—launching off the bed so fast the sheets tangle around your ankles, nearly tripping in your haste to get to him. your hands are already reaching, trembling slightly as they skate up the shimmering fabric, over the hard curve of his shoulders—god, you can feel the heat of him even through the material—then higher, thumbs brushing the delicate dip of his collarbones. "oh my god, mark," you whisper, voice wrecked, "you—how are you real? how is this legal?"

his skin is warm under your palms, the blush spreading down his neck in real time as you trace the lines of him like you're trying to memorize every inch. the outfit clings to his waist like it was designed to taunt you, the skirt riding up just enough to make your mouth water, and you're this close to dropping to your knees right then and there.

mark's breath hitches when your fingers curl into the fabric at his hips. "okay, you're really overreacting—"

you cut him off by grabbing his face and kissing him hard, one hand fisting in his hair to tilt his head just so. mark makes a startled noise against your lips before melting into it, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you flush against him. you can feel the muscle of his thighs through the thin fabric, the way his stomach tenses when you nip at his lower lip, and fuck, it's so much—

when you finally pull back, you're both panting, foreheads pressed together. mark's pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, and the way the thraxan outfit is just disheveled enough from your hands on him? devastating.

"so pretty," you murmur again, unable to stop the words from spilling out like a prayer as you press kisses along the warm curve of his cheek. your hands slide up his bare arms—god, the way the thraxan fabric leaves them exposed like this should be criminal—feeling the shift of muscle under smooth skin as he tilts his head for you. you linger at the sharp angle of his jaw, breathing in the familiar scent of his stupid citrus body wash mixed with something uniquely mark, before catching the corner of his mouth with your lips. it's barely a kiss, just a teasing brush, but it makes him shiver.

mark laughs, low and breathy, his fingers tangling in the back of your shirt to tug you closer. "you're such a dork," he says, but his voice is fond, roughened at the edges in a way that makes your stomach flip.

"uh, excuse me—your dork," you correct, punctuating it with a deliberate nip at his neck, right over the pulse point you know drives him crazy. the choked noise he makes—half gasp, half moan—sends a thrill down your spine, and you can't resist laving the spot with your tongue in apology, tasting salt and warmth.

"okay, okay—" mark's grip tightens on your shoulders, pushing you back just far enough that you can see the flush spreading down his chest, pink and perfect under the shimmering fabric. his breathing is uneven, lips parted, and fuck, the way the outfit clings to him now—rumpled from your hands, the skirt riding up even higher on his thighs—makes your brain short-circuit all over again. "as much as i'm really enjoying this," he says, voice dropping to that husky register that does things to your insides, "i do have roommates who could walk in literally any second."

you pout, letting your hands slide down to grip his waist—so narrow under your palms, you could probably circle it with your thumbs touching—and whine, "so? don't you and william have that sock rule thing, anyway?"

"so," mark grins, leaning in until his nose brushes yours, his breath warm against your lips, "maybe we save the rest of this for when we're not in a shared dorm." his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, teasing, and you nearly groan at the implication. "unless you want an audience for whatever that face was about. and besides, william still hasn't forgiven us for how long we took last time..."

(you definitely do not want to have an audience. you're trying to enjoy the full experience of mark grayson, not trying to perform and act, thank you very much. but the mental image of dragging mark into the nearest closet the second william and whoever he brought with him comes in? yeah. that’s staying.)

you groan dramatically, dragging your palms down your face like this is the greatest injustice you’ve ever endured—but you relent, stepping back just far enough that your fingers have to slip reluctantly from his waist. “fine,” you huff, jabbing a finger at his chest (and trying very hard not to get distracted by how the fabric stretches taut over his pecs). “but you’re keeping this stupidly hot outfit on for at least five more minutes. i need to memorize this.”

mark rolls his eyes so hard you worry they’ll stick, but he doesn’t argue—just lets you grab his wrists and tug him backward onto the bed with a yelp. the mattress squeaks in protest as you both collapse onto it, and you immediately burrow into his side, throwing a leg over his thighs like a possessive octopus. your hand finds the bare skin of his arm again, thumb tracing idle circles over his bicep just because you can, because the thraxan fabric left it gloriously exposed and god, he’s so warm.

you can’t help but sneak another glance up at him—the way the dim dorm light catches the shimmer of the outfit, how it pools around his hips like something out of a fantasy, the faint blush still dusting his cheekbones—and the words tumble out before you can stop them: “still pretty.”

mark sighs, long-suffering, but you feel the way his chest vibrates with a suppressed laugh, the way his arm tightens around your shoulders to pull you closer. “yeah, yeah,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to the top of your head that lingers just a second too long to play it cool. his lips brush against your hair as he adds, softer, “love you too, weirdo.”

(and if you nuzzle your face into his collarbone to hide your grin, well—that’s between you and whatever poor superperson who has telepathy.)

2.3k words full of MARK LOOKING GOOD IN THAT GODDAMN THRAXAN OUTFIT, like okay mark WE SEE THE FIT WE SEE THE FIT, AND THE FIT IS LOOKING SO GOOD- TOO GOOD, in fact. to the point that we need to see that fit OFF OF HIM LIKE COME ONNNNN

[emmyrosee]

“Hey,” you whisper, interrupting the moving droning on the tv. “You wanna fight?”

It’s boring in the apartment, the rain having washed out any prior date ideas you two had thrown around. Life outside is completely silenced from the cold droplets of water. You’d been cuddling on the couch for the past three hours, one random movie starting and ending, only to be followed with another one that Eijiro can’t bring himself to care about.

But hey. You’re cute. And you’re looking at him with mischief in your eyes. Might as well indulge you.

“Emotionally or physically?”

Eijiro’s never been the kind to take your negative bait, though he adores your positive ones; he’s always been able to read you like a book, keeping tabs on when you’re feeling playful or when something is truly bothering you, when you’re hungry or truly annoyed, and despite reading the novel time and time again, it’s one he continues to see through every day.

And right now, based on the cheeky look you’re giving him, he knows you’re too playful for your own good.

You gently knock your head against his, as if trying to provoke him in the cutest way possible, “I dunno; are you always this clueless?”

Physical.

He smirks, bringing a mammoth hand to cup the back of your neck, squeezing the meat of it gently, “I don’t know; you’re the one who agreed to date me.”

“What a mistake,” you scoff.

And yes, Eijiro likes to try and make you work for his attention when you’re feeling playful, he likes the little whines and pawing you send his way, the way you smother his face in non-penetrating bites and rough squishes of his cheeks with obscene and absurd words about how cute he is.

But sometimes, his hands hooking under your arms is plenty, as he forces you down onto the couch. Occasionally, the playful, fake punches he delivers to your laughing tummy do just the trick.

“You’re! So! Mean! To me!” He grunts between each gentle, barely connective tap. “Why!”

“Because!” You giggle, batting away his hands. You grip your hands over his and use all your strength to force his hands back away from you. Eijiro knows he could just as easily overwhelm you with his strength, but you look so happy to fight him off that he can’t bring himself to.

You send one push his way, barely strong enough to move him, but he humors you anyway and takes a tumble backwards, thick back hitting the cushions with a soft noise. With no waste of time, you climb on top of him and gather his wrists in your hands, pinning them on either side of his head.

“Now what?” He asks.

You smirk and lean down to press a noisy kiss to his nose, “mwah!”

He smiles and puckers his lips out for one on his lips, but you merely press one to his cheek, “mwah!”

“Babe-“

Then you move to his brow bone, “mwah!”

“Kiss me!”

“I am-“ you press a kiss to his chin, “mwah!”

He laughs and tries to intercept your kisses, moving his head side to side to try and catch them, but you merely dodge him. Every sticky kiss you press to his face, you accompany with a dramatic “mwah!” he groans with a few chuckles at the anguish of not being able to kiss you.

“Mercy!” He calls. “I’ll die if you don’t give me a real kiss. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

This has you pondering, jutting out your lower lip in thought before sighing dramatically, “no, I wouldn’t. Guess I like you or something.” You lean down to kiss his lips, and letting go of his hands when he gently tugs at them; you mewl as they wrap around you, relaxing you to lay on his chest and cuddling close as you part. "I really do like you, Eiji."

"You wanna know what's crazy?" He asks, and when you nod, he gently grabs your chin to look at him, "I really love you."

You blow him a kiss which he pretends to chomp the air to eat, dramatically swallowing while you giggle up at him.

He noses as your head before letting his eyes close, resting up for your next bout of playfulness.

[f0ofishies]

ᯓ★ Tutoring With Armin ⭑.ᐟ

nerd!armin realizing you need some help in that biology class you both decided to attend. He'll look at you, those ocean eyes gazing as you struggled on a test.

nerd!armin hearing you complaining to your friends how you flunk out that test. Your whining being heard throughout the hallways, a bit melodramatic in his opinion.

nerd!armin, who looked into your eyes when they sparkled right after he gave his contact number to you. Offering a two tutoring session with you for the next chapter for your biology class.

nerd!armin, who agreed to meet you up in the library. The way you thanked him multiple times on being free on a damn saturday night.. yeah.. he was atleast understanding with you.

nerd!armin, who you end unfortunately getting lucky. The library was closed at the weekends. Small curses from your end, as you told him, to cancel this whole tutoring session for today.

nerd!armin being kind enough to let you study in his dormitory, knowing full well the consequences if he got caught having someone in his dorms past late hours, which could cause a whole rumor.

nerd!armin giving you his notes from his leathered notebook, you could tell he used a hefty amount of money– making it even more funnier how he would take his class seriously.

nerd!armin's hand brushing against yours, not noticing the way his heart skips a beat. He never had anyone in his personal sanctuary before, let alone someone who'd he tutor.. he was a nice guy, definetly being nice.

nerd!armin, who's getting his living soul sucked off so badly on the bed. His pale palm, gripping at your hair, tugging on the loose strands. The way your tongue immediately flattened on his pink dick.

nerd!armin looking down as you pulled your cum stained mouth away to jerk put his orgasm again. "Told you, 'min a hands-on activity was a good idea?" You cooed as he let out another loud groan.

nerd!armin, who cums a massive load staining your loose shirt and even on your face! "Sorry– sorry..!" He huffed out long apologies, hearing your laughter under him. You gave a small peck to his puckering tip oozing out a bit more load. "wanna know what the other lips can do?"

nerd!armin , who is also a virgin, and that was his real experience of someone sucking him off. You were beamed that you were his first ever. As some of his load trailed down your throat, he unexpectedly reached out to wipe away but squeezed it a bit. It earned a stifled moan in you.

nerd!armin, that's trying his best to keep up with your thrusts.. your ass hitting back onto his pelvis. Hips rolling and everything as he moans out your name– he's really going to cum inside if you don't stop..! He ended up gripping your hips to try and slow you down, it failed miserably.

nerd!armin crying at you, screaming out apologies as he accidentally unpack his load all over inside you. It's oozing out lewdly, he liked it– of course he did, but he didn't want you uncomfortable at all.

nerd!armin, who now takes the lead in this fucked up situation you both made. He thrusts into you once again, not caring if the librarians or passerbys can listen. One hand on your throat, the other at the your hips.

"Keep your legs up f'me.. shiitt.. mm just like that bunny.. keep bouncing on–uh it.. yesyesyes.. so close.."

[onlyswan]

summary: in which there is never enough time to be in love but jungkook is a 24/7 lover. (part one)

idol!jk x afab!reader / fluffy fluff with a dash of angst / word count: 3.6k

warnings/content: jungkook takes a day off and surprises oc <3 ; he's veryyy touchy; he gives oc's boobie a lil bite lol this guy ; s*xual innuendos; one (1) spank; oc comforts him :(; bam is home too!!; family is complete

→ in which masterlist!

note: smth short and sweet so i can recover from dreamboat loool missed my babies sm <3 as always reblog and/or feedback is very much appreciated! <3

p.s. i'm also redoing my iw taglist so pls comment/send an ask if you want to be (re)/added!

—

“baby? i’m home.”

you’re confident to say that you’d never mistake jungkook’s voice for anyone else’s. and on that note, you must be dreaming of him— the voice of an angel, the calloused palms cupping your cheeks… the audible and damp kisses delicately being peppered all over your face. everything feels so real. too real. just like how it used to be.

it hasn’t been long since you last saw him. you communicate and meet whenever it’s possible, no matter how short the time he is allowed to dedicate. still, you miss him all the time, everyday. you keep telling yourself it’s not that bad. time is passing by faster than you feared. but this whole set-up is foreign and daunting. and you miss him. you miss him all the time. that must be why you’re dreaming. 

when you open your eyes in the morning, you’ve come to expect nothing more than the view of the plain white ceiling, or the sunlight peeking from behind the curtains. 

so why are you gawking at jungkook’s face?

he smiles from ear-to-ear, bunny teeth and crinkles around his eyes— you can’t be mistaken. it’s him. it feels as though your heart has been shocked and revived. 

“jungkook!” you gasp.

you startle your own self when you abruptly throw your arms around him. he tries to hold you up, but you’re far too ecstatic for your own good, inexplicable joy thrumming in your veins and fireworks bursting in your ribcage. you squeal and jump up and down on the bed like a little kid on christmas morning; jungkook hugs you back tighter than he has ever done before, protecting you from the fall and crash.

“oh my god, you’re here! you’re here!”

“yes, i’m here-” he laughs in amusement. “ow shit, settle down- wow, it’s so early. why are you so energetic-”

“i missed you!” you briefly pause for oxygen. “so much! i’m never letting go of you again!” 

“wow!” he makes a dramatic wheezing sound. “that much, baby? you missed me that much?” 

“that much!” 

you draw back with a pout, just enough so you can look at each other, nodding your head probably too fast— you’re almost dizzy. adrenaline tide calming into waves, you’re catching your breath.

are you certain that this is not your imagination playing tricks on you?

“you’re here…” you slowly say. it’s only registering to your whiplashed brain. there is barely any feeling in your arms as you touch his face, an attempt at separating wishful thinking and reality. “why are you here?”

“why else?” he grins toothily. “because you said you were missing me.” 

your attempt at forming words is rudely interrupted. he steals a kiss, this thief… hard and hungry, keeping you in place by his palm cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. 

he pulls away with a satisfied hum, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. “and because i was missing you more.” 

for a moment, you gaze at each other in silence. you’re still neck deep in disbelief and euphoria. that kiss took your breath away. under the circumstances, you shall yield and admit that he misses you more. he requests for developed photos of you when you come visit. that’s something you never imagined you’d have to do. 

he tries to tame your messy hair, smoothing it down until he’s holding your cheeks lovingly. “i mean, what else was i supposed to do? i miss waking up to this pretty face everyday.” 

you pucker your lips in response, demanding for a kiss. this earns a chuckle from him before he grants your wish. an unintelligible noise of joy escapes your mouth as you jump and hug him again. it is shortly followed by a yelp when he whisks you off the bed without warning, spinning you ‘round and ‘round… ‘round… and ‘round… and…

your laughter soon transforms into horror. 

“jungkook!” you scream with your eyes squeezed shut and your legs curled around his waist. “okay! stop it! i’m getting dizzy!” 

the crazy bastard keeps on giggling as if he doesn’t hear a thing. you always expect these reunions to be so emotional, but when jungkook is here, it feels as though he never left.  

“jungkook!” 

you hook your leg around his, causing the two of you to collapse on the soft mattress. you land on top of him with a whimper. you breathe out a sigh, relieved that the nausea-inducing ride is over.

“that was fun.” he speaks next to your ear; the sensation makes you squirm. 

“it was,” you push yourself up to search for more air, a little sweaty after yours and jungkook’s hyperness took control of your bodies. “for the first five seconds.” 

you’re now properly straddling him, ass on his crotch. it’s accidental, but nothing new. nay, comfortable. this level of proximity won’t feel like intimacy with somebody else. goddamn, you missed your boyfriend so much. 

a big, sleepy yawn zaps your attention from him. you cover your face with both hands, wandering into the darkness for a little while. you find that your mind is devoid of any thought. perhaps you’re more overwhelmed than you let on. 

“missed this view too…” he reveals amidst the haze, a distinct change in the tone of his voice. 

there they are— the butterflies in his stomach, slaves to you and only you. he breathes through his parted lips as he caresses your thighs with tenderness bleeding from his fingertips, your skin so smooth and soft in contrast to his calloused palms. his lips curve into a drunken smile when you graze his greedy hands, as though granting them permission, before they slip inside the magenta velvet of your night dress. the material bunches over his forearms as he reaches for your hips. it leaves almost nothing to the imagination (in his case: memory). his attention is stolen by your cotton panties. light taupe. decorated by white polka dots. 

“this one’s new.” he comments.

you peer down to figure out what he meant. right, he’s never seen this before. “surprise! you like it?”

“yes, it’s cute.” he toys with the little ribbon at the center of the waistband. “you rarely get this color.”

“thanks. i think my taste is changing.”

“really?”

“mhmm…” 

his hands venture up to your waist, kneading at the flesh and reacquainting with the feel of you. he’s been pissed off at the thought of forgetting what it feels like to touch you, knowing your body like the back of his hand. he hasn’t been away from you for extended periods of time since their last tour. that was years ago. 

for maximum comfort, he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. “let’s move here.” he carries you with him, back comfortable leaning against the headboard, while you remain sitting pretty on his lap. “bam was sleeping on my side of the bed when i arrived.”

“huh…?” you blink. 

“you didn’t know?”

you shake your head innocently, a tad distracted by your eyes roaming his naked torso. he looks absolutely ravishing as ever. did something already change from the last time you saw him? 

“i tucked him into his bed last night.”

you visited bam at the training facility after work yesterday, but he kept trying to follow you as you were leaving. your fragile heart caved and you brought him home for the weekend. you texted jungkook about it but he didn’t respond; as much as that made you sad, you figured he was just tired or he used his phone time to talk to his family. 

you spent the whole night playing with bam and watching his favorite dog entertainment channel on youtube. the house wasn’t dead silent for once. you fell asleep together on the couch until you woke up at 2am and tucked him and yourself into your respective beds. it was easy to fall back to sleep after, but it felt weird that you didn’t need an audiobook or hours of calming sounds of nature. 

you’re not whining. there have been a lot of sunny and happy days. you have wonderful people in your life who act as your support system in their own unique ways, but jungkook and bam… they’re your family. you made your peace with no longer having one, but now that you’ve built your own, having to be apart from them makes your heart ache. 

“did he sneak in to sleep next to you? he does that now?” he makes a surprised face. “what’s this? i’m so jealous of him!”

a pinch in your heart. 

you try your best to conceal a frown, but your poor choice of words paints your disappointment. “you’re not-” you avoid his eyes. “staying the night?”

“yah, you don’t have to look so sad. i can stay, baby.”

“you can?” your face lights up. 

“for you, i’ll make it happen.” he cheeses, affectionately tapping the tip of your nose like it’s a button to make you smile. “i’m only working hard in there to earn more days off, you know that?”

that makes you frown.

“babe, don’t do that…” you whine, shaking his shoulders. “you don’t need to work so hard. only do what is required of you. i just want you to be healthy.”

“no… just let me.” he replies with finality. “i need… i need a reason. you’re the reason why i’m still hanging in there, and i don’t want to miss another anniversary.” 

he bats his eyelashes. 

“being your boyfriend is my favorite job in the whole world.”

and how are you supposed to argue with one of his most heart-fluttering, most wholesome lines yet? 

you sigh in defeat. “then you can rest when you’re with me.” 

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” 

you lean in to kiss him, but are interrupted when he yawns. your forehead ends up resting against his as you giggle uncontrollably at the unexpected and hilarious view of his open mouth. 

“sleepy?”

he bows his head in embarrassment, body vibrating with laughter. “i couldn’t sleep because i was so excited. i wanted to talk to you last night but i was so sure i’d spoil the surprise.” 

“of course you couldn’t.” you giggle, removing yourself from his lap while tugging at the collar of his shirt. “come here. let’s sleep some more.”

you lie down on the bed facing each other. jungkook moans in contentment as you engulf him in your embrace, nuzzling his face against your chest. he can smell your body wash, sweet and clean. that— that isn’t new. every muscle in his body decompresses. he needed this, needed you. desperately. tremendously. you pull the thick and warm blanket over yourselves and he melts. while he wishes he was taller, he knows he is still of considerable height. he’s been bulking up, getting stronger than before too. but he doesn’t give a fuck about those at the moment. he’s not even aware. his body fits perfectly with yours— that’s all he knows. oh… he’s melting. but it doesn’t feel like he’s being reduced. he has everything to gain. this is heaven on earth.

he opens his eyes into an awful squint, faced by your cleavage spilling out from the neckline of your night dress. there’s this urge he can’t ignore. it’s not spelt out in his mind, he rather feels like his body is having a fit. next thing he knows, he’s carefully sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of the swell of your boob. he stays still for a few seconds, and then pulls away once he deems himself satisfied. he wipes your skin with his thumb incase he left some saliva, innocent eyes peeking up at you huffing out a quiet laugh. 

“you sure that’s all you needed?”

“i’ll devour you later.” he smirks, blinking sluggishly. “i’m tired but just you wait. i’ll go all night!”

“not if i beat you to it…” you tease, having plans of your own. you want to make him feel good. you’ve been going insane thinking about it. “missed you.”

“alright then, let’s do it at the same time.” he says suggestively. 

“you know i have a hard time focusing when we do that.” you huff.

“eh, so? not me.” he chuckles. “i think you do a really great job, though?”

“…still! go easy on me a little bit so i can do better.”

“it’s not a competition, baby.” he squeezes your waist affectionately. “plus, i don’t think i’d be able to control myself once i get a taste.”

“jungkook!” you whine, growing flustered. 

he laughs out loud, giving your ass a quick spank that resounds through the walls of the bedroom. 

it becomes silent again after that.

the tip of your nails graze his scalp with repeated movements, more so for your amusement, but he is practically purring. you can’t imagine your arm being a comfortable pillow either, but he is doing great at making it appear so.

“i realized something.”

“what is it?”

“i really can’t live without you.” he confesses earnestly, then looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “don’t say anything. i know you’ll say something like ‘yes, you can!’”

“i was not. i liked hearing you say it.” you stifle a giggle. “but i’m not going anywhere. you know that.”

“i don’t doubt that.” he sighs with a heavy chest. “sometimes i just get a bit worried that you’d get tired of waiting.” 

this isn’t the first time in your relationship that he’s voicing out this fear, but the difference between then and now is stark. with the disconnection, there was a part of you that expected it to resurface. 

“babe,” you gently tilt up his face, locking your sincere and love-filled eyes with his. “we’re okay. i’ve loved you since i was 18. this? this is nothing. you’re a part of me, so you’re always with me. and i know you keep me with you too.”

you wear a brave face. you hope that he believes your words as much as you do, because no matter how many boulders the universe throws down your path, all you ever think about is how you and jungkook will surmount them. together. he is your partner after all.

“we’ll get through it like we always do, baby boy.”

jungkook nods and smiles, doe eyes glittering. you love making that happen. “sorry, i think i scared myself when i read stories on the internet.” 

“our story is different!”

the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“no, seriously-” he cackles, a little breathless.

“we’re one of a kind!” you keep the joke running. you want to keep making him laugh, even if it’s only for a few seconds longer. 

“we’ve gone through so much bullshit. not everyone would fight as hard as we did!” jungkook passionately agrees with the same intensity. “you’re right, we always make it work. we’ll get through it like we always do.”

“trust me,” you charmingly implore him. “when was i ever wrong?”

“never!” he immediately shakes his head. “…atleast not about the things that matter.”

“okay,” you shrug. “i’ll take it.”

“goodnight kiss, please.” he cutely pleads.

wild guess: he went home to be babied. not that you’re complaining. this is miles better than having to wrestle him over who gets to be the big spoon. you love giving love. when your heart stops beating, it would be great to celebrate how much you were loved, but you also wish to be remembered as a person who gave love until their last breath. 

“goodnight, my love.” you coo, well aware that the sun has risen. 

you plant a tender kiss on his forehead. the complaint bubbling in his throat is swallowed when you lean in closer to reach his lips. with his wish fulfilled, he flutters his eyes closed and snuggles as close to you as possible, real and proper rest finally within his grasp. he basks in your warmth and the tranquilizing silence— his breathing steady and his heart at its calmest. beautiful things enter his mind. you are the sun on the first spring day; the clouds that go with him no matter the distance; the waves that kiss the shore and never fail to come back. he heals in places he didn’t know he was hurting. 

“hold on, where is bam then?”

“his house. i gave him some treats then he slept again…” his voice comes out muffled. he sniffles jokingly. “the reaction was kind of underwhelming. i think he didn’t miss me as much.” 

“of course he’d choose that over a human.”

“i bribed him too early.” he laments.

“wait…” he feels you come to a still. “i think he’s coming.”

he opens his eyes and copies you in focusing on the familiar sound of bam’s paws clicking against the floor. the mattress quakes and he lifts his head to find the dog climbing over your bodies. 

he’s seriously a large and tall dog. 

“bam, what are you doing here?!” 

bam tilts his head and stares back at jungkook, tail wagging as his dad laughs and pets him on the head down to his back. 

“he’s so adorable.” you squeal quietly, joining in and scratching under his chin. “i love you, bam.” 

bam’s eyes switch to you. he slowly lowers his head, giving your hand a tentative lick as if to show appreciation but he’s also worried that it would prompt you to stop.

“he’s gotten real heavy, huh?”

“he’s got some big muscles like you.”

“of course! he got it from me.”

jungkook’s proud smile drops a little. it morphs into pure fondness once bam starts sniffing at him. he yelps and dramatically falls back, wiping his wet cheek with the back of his hand, but it’s game over once bam pants with excitement. bam chases his face to attack him with his love language. 

you watch the scene from the sidelines, laughing so hard that your sides are beginning to hurt. you wish you were recording. you wish that you never forget this. 

“okay, okay! you’re happy to see me! i see that now!” jungkook laughs, squeezing bam in a tight hug for a moment. 

the dog still refuses to relent, however. they almost look like they’re fighting to the death but the truth is they’re just smothering each other with affection. unbeknownst to them, you make a pained face when one of them accidentally hits your arm multiple times. nevermind, they were definitely both culprits. 

“____! save me!” your boyfriend cries out.

he bulldozes through bam and shoves himself into the tiny space he previously, and peacefully, occupied minutes before. he’s squeezing you so tight, nearly crushing you as he laughs with tears in his eyes. they affectionately call it his elmo laugh, the fans, which you adore just as much. 

you see it before you hear it. bam makes that face when he’s about to bark. your hush comes out at the same exact second as his barking. 

“this is so chaotic!” you try to project your voice louder than everybody else’s. 

jungkook’s laughs quieter but harder, if that makes any sense. 

you have an arm around jungkook that holds him taut and protected, while the other is busy with getting bam to settle down. you slide your palm across his fur in repeated motions, focusing on the spots that cause his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“shhh, bam. it’s still too early. let daddy rest first. we can tire him out again later, okay?”

he settles on top of your bodies again. he has stopped moving around, but then he makes that face again, and you really love your healthy sense of hearing. 

“behave, bam-” you playfully squeeze his cheeks together before scratching under his chin. “my cutie bam. you can do that for me, right? you’re a good boy! i’m sure you understand.”

he abandons the urge to bark, suddenly fixing his position so you can also scratch at his chest. you almost snort at how funny he looked obeying you on accident because he is begging to be petted.

“that’s right. good job, bam.” you coo, sending him a pleased smile. “you’re so smart. you listen so well.” 

you whisper to jungkook. “it’s so cute when it looks like he really understands what i’m saying.”

“it’s the way you talk to him.” he answers quietly, placing tiny kisses along your collarbone. “you’re so sweet.” he almost forgot how good you are with bam. he just fell in love with you all over again. 

“but it’d be cooler if he does understand me.” you hum, moving your hand on bam’s head. he finally decides to flop down then. he rests his head over your waist, eyes seemingly inching closer to sleepiness. you sigh in relief. “go to sleep too, baby.”

jungkook breaks the silence a moment later.

“…did you mean me or bam?”

“you!” you chuckle. 

“oh-” he laughs at his own foolishness. his arm that is supposed to be hooked around your waist rests over bam’s body instead. he ruffles the dog’s fur softly. “let’s all go to sleep.”

you let out a yawn in response to that. you sniffle, murmuring tiredly. “i love you, baby… your surprise made me so happy. i’ll make it up to you too.”

“i love you more…”

jungkook lifts his head and finds that you have closed your eyes. your chest rises and falls in a calm rhythm. bam is closely following you into dreamland. 

heavens, what he wouldn’t give so he could stay here forever and never leave again. 

his eyes are heavy with exhaustion, hot with sleepy tears, but he fights his own body to stay awake. with all his might, he gazes in awe at the beauty of a life with you. he wants to always remember what is waiting for him at home.

[atsumutu]

zoro is not sure how much more of this he can take.

as the right hand man of an emperor, the swordsman had found himself in plenty of perilous predicaments, but never one quite like this. 

“okay, what do you think about this one?”

zoro gives you a once over. this wasn’t his area of expertise but he nods his head in approval anyways, just as he had done for all the previous iterations of your outfit. “looks nice.” 

“the other one goes better with the shoes though,” you hum, turning around to pick up your discarded garment before facing the swordsman again. “and it’s dressier. this is a bit too casual isn't it?” 

if he were a lesser man, zoro would have succumbed to this torture, possibly even stormed out of the room. instead, he takes a deep breath, opting for peace. he had survived worse. 

“i guess so.” he offers. 

“but i did want to wear my new earrings and they definitely don’t go with this...” your words trail off as you start reviewing your options again, getting lost in your thoughts.

groaning, zoro falls back onto the bed with a dull thud. unfazed by his dramatics, you start rummaging through your wardrobe in search of a better option. 

“okay okay, what about this one?” you ask, giving your boyfriend a little twirl. 

this time he doesnt even spare you a glance. “mhm, great.” 

“you’re not even looking.” you huff, lips puckered in dissatisfaction.

the pout is evident in your voice and zoro he knows he’s teetering on dangerous territory. lifting himself up to a sitting position, he rubs his face before peering up at you.

“yeah, looks good.”

unimpressed, you cross your arms together, shooting a glare at him. a life of piracy meant that date nights were few and far between so to say you were happy at the prospect of finally spending a romantic evening with your lover would be an understatement. but his lack of enthusiasm was really putting a damper on your mood.

“you’re not being very helpful.”

zoro’s eyebrows twitches. “i said it looks good, they all looked good. shit, what more do you want me to say?”

he regrets his words the second your arms fall to your sides in defeat, the eager spark in your eyes dimming.

sighing, the swordsman curses himself. taking a deep breath, he opens up his arms. “c’mere.”

hesitantly, you take a few steps towards him before his hands settle on your hips and drag you forward, thumbs softly stroking your sides despite his less than gentle handling. with him sat on the bed and you stood between his legs, he rests his forehead against your stomach. 

“sorry, baby. i shouldn't have snapped like that.”

the pet name doesn’t escape you, causing an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. it wasn’t all that common for zoro to be so verbally affectionate, being more of a show you he cares through his actions type of guy.

you sift your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax under your touch. “i just want to look good for you, zo.” you mumble, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice. 

the swordsman leans back sporting a subtle grin. “that’s one thing you never have to worry about.” 

“compliments won't get you out of this, mister.”

“yeah?” he challenges, hands sliding to the back of your thighs. “how about a kiss?” 

you pretend to think it over for a second before shaking your head in disinterest. “eh, what else you got?” 

zoro smirks, the grip on your thighs tightening as he settles them on either side of his hips, effectively placing you on his lap. “what was that? i haven’t heard any complaints before.” he growls, playfully nipping at your neck until you’re reduced to a fit of giggle. 

“fine, fine. but you’re paying for dinner.” 

“always do.” he scoffs. 

you lean forward, a sincere smile on your lips as you peck his. “you do. i appreciate it, a lot.” you say inbetween kisses.

zoro attempts a nonchalant shrug. “it’s nothing.”

“no really, zoro. you can be a real blockhead sometimes but you spoil me rotten, in your own ways.” 

“it’s whatever.” he grumbles, the tips of his ears reddening adorably, but there no chance to comment on it as he grabs your chin. “now, give me a proper kiss.”

[moonstruckme]

summary: when you're filling in for Sirius' assistant, you get a call that goes sour. Sirius decides to handle it.

cw: customer service lol

ceo!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 969 words

Sirius is beginning to wonder if perhaps his assistant needs an assistant. Because surely, Len being sick for one day shouldn’t send the entire office into chaos, and yet. One morning without him had Sirius dialing your number to cajole you into spending the afternoon at his work playing receptionist. 

Really, it’s a pretty bang-up solution. Except for how you have to do work and how little work Sirius gets done with you here. His meeting isn’t over for five whole seconds before he’s prancing back to your desk for his third “coffee break” of the afternoon. 

“Hey, sweetness,” he says as he saunters through the doorway. “How’s it going?” 

His good mood falters at the sight that greets him. You’re visibly shaken, your pretty mouth downturned and eyes with that faraway look they get when you’re contemplating unpleasant thoughts. 

“It’s going okay,” you say slowly, raising your gaze to his somewhat uncertainly. Sirius doesn’t like that at all. “I just sent someone to your voicemail. I hope that’s okay.” 

“Sure, that’s fine.” Len knows better than to send regular clients to Sirius’ phone, but he could never hold that against you. He half sits on your desk, feeling his brow pucker. “What did they want?” 

“I…I feel like I barely know.” You shake your head, distraught. “First she wanted one of your client’s phone numbers…” 

Sirius feels his frown deepen. 

“Which of course I told her we couldn’t give out.” 

He nods sternly. 

“But then she wanted to talk to my boss, and I didn’t want to bother you because I knew you were in your meeting, so I tried to explain that. Then she wanted my name and phone number…” 

“You didn’t give her those either, did you?” Sirius interrupts to ask. 

You shake your head, expression still somewhat distant. Like you’re upset with yourself, and you don’t fully know why. 

“Okay,” he says, gentling his tone. “Good, baby. It sounds like you did all the right things.” 

“She was just sort of mean.” You frown. “She was so angry with me, it was like she thought I was being difficult on purpose. Or I was too stupid to be any real help.” 

A protective ire flares in Sirius’ chest. “She said that to you?” 

“No.” You shake your head again. “No, sorry, not…not explicitly. Just, she was really condescending. After I said you weren’t available, she started talking to me really slow, and enunciating, like she had to spell everything out for me. It was—I don’t know, maybe I’m being dramatic, but it felt like she was trying to make me feel stupid.” 

Your voice thins and quiets. Sirius tilts his head and leans over some, chasing a view of your face. You won’t look at him, your eyes shining faintly. 

“Hey,” he prompts. 

You raise your gaze to his. The humiliation in your expression makes him want to raze the world. 

“That’s not okay,” he says firmly. “You know that, right? No one should ever speak to you that way.” 

You don’t nod, don’t make any sound, but your lips press together harshly. 

Sirius makes a low, pitying noise. He bends to give you a hug. It’s an awkward fit, you sitting down and him stooped over you, but Sirius has always been willing to make a fool of himself for you. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

“It’s fine,” you murmur, though you hug him back fiercely. “Sorry, I’m sure Len gets a dozen calls like this a day. I should be able to handle it.” 

“I sure hope he doesn’t,” Sirius says. “He’s never mentioned it to me if he has. No one should have to handle that. That woman sounds fucking deranged.” 

A weak little laugh hiccups out of you. “She wasn’t very nice.” 

“No, she wasn’t. You said you sent her to my voicemail?” 

“Mhm,” you hum. Sirius is pleased to feel some of the tension seeping out of you. He rubs up and down your back. “Sorry, she wouldn’t take no for an answer and after a while I just really wanted to get off the phone. You don’t have to call her back.” 

“Would you stop that?” Sirius pulls away, palming your cheek. A couple of tears have caught in your lashes. “You aren’t the one who ought to be apologizing. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. Understand?” 

You nod sheepishly. 

“Good.” He kisses between your brows. “Now, I am going to call her back, and I’m going to get an apology from someone who deserves to give one. Do you want to listen in?” 

“Sirius,” you murmur. “She’s going to shout at you. Don’t put yourself through that for me.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetness. I can guarantee you I am going to be the most angry person on that call.” 

You get a look Sirius knows well. Wary, bashful. A reluctant appreciation you try to hide. It’s the way you look at him when he calls in a favor to get you a last-minute reservation or books out a park so you can ice skate without the crowd. Like you’re not sure whether to chide him or kiss him. 

Sirius prefers when you choose the latter, obviously. It’s probably because you choose it so often that he feels comfortable curling his finger under your chin, gently turning your face up to his. 

“You deserve an apology.” 

“So confident you’re going to get one,” you whisper, teasing. 

Sirius’ lips tug. “I know I am. Do you want to be there to receive it?” 

Your expression flickers. “Thank you, but I’d rather not.” You hesitate. “Can I say something pathetic?” 

“You’re never pathetic, but go on.” 

“I think if I hear her voice I might cry again.” 

Oh, Sirius is definitely going to make this woman cry now. 

[princessfbi]

bucktommy+4 or 5 for the shivering prompt plssss

4. “I just… I’m really tired. Can’t really stop shaking.” + Bucktommy

Tommy didn’t consider himself a violent man. Not by nature at least. Growing up with his old man made nurture into survival and he knew how to throw a punch when he needed to.

He was two seconds away from doing just that. His nails dug into the flesh of his palm as his knuckles popped and he knew with a hundred percent certainty that if he lost control he would be arrested very shortly after but he didn’t give a single flying fu—

“He’s good!” Athena’s broke through like a sparrow cutting through a hurricane, screeching for attention in the storm inside his head. “Let him through!”

Tommy barely made it through the flimsy police barricade without yanking it down to get through.

“Sergeant Grant!” Athena made a face at that but didn’t correct him like she usually did. “Where is he?”

“This way,” she said simply and Tommy’s racing heart rate would thank her later for not even stopping to wait for him. She simply swiveled on her heel and expected him to follow.

He did. Somehow. Somehow he followed her through the chaos of bodies moving across the parking lot through the thick syrup of tension. He knees felt weak beneath him as he took in the scene.

“He’s okay,” Athena said over her shoulder. “But he won’t let me call anyone or go to the hospital. I’m hoping you can talk some sense into him.”

“Hospital?” Tommy demanded and Athena held up her hand.

“He’s okay,” she said again before she stopped and pressed her palm to his sternum. It wasn’t hard but it was firm and it was enough to rock Tommy back on his heels. “Tommy, listen to me.”

Tommy couldn’t see him. He was scanning the crowd over Athena’s head but he couldn’t see him. He could see everyone else, tight expressions contrasting the traumatized crying and detectives and crime techs, but not him. Not Evan.

“Tommy!” Tommy’s eyes snapped down to Athena again and her eyebrow cocked into a high arch on her forehead. “He is okay. He’s shaken up but he’s alive.”

Hearing that made the tightness in Tommy’s chest ease just a fraction but it was enough for him to exhale. It was enough to let out that stale, brittle sip of air that had been prickling in his lungs and burning at his throat from between his lips. Ever since he’d gotten the call, a frown marring his face at the unfamiliar number, he’d been holding that breath as he raced to get his keys and drove halfway across town desperately fiddling with the radio for some kind of information that meant he wasn’t walking into the situation totally blind.

“He’s okay?” Tommy asked anyway.

Athena nodded once but her mouth was pinched in a sharp pucker. “He’s okay. But he’s…”

Athena stopped and let her eyes drift to the side.

Tommy followed her gaze and felt his blood turn to ice at the white sheet draped over what his brain was slow to realize was a body. The ground was wet and Tommy chose not to dwell on what was a trick of the light and what was blood.

“It was close.” Athena said. “Too close. I need you to lock in and talk some sense into him.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue. On the list of people in his life, Tommy should’ve been the last who could talk some sense into Evan. He didn’t even know what they were anymore. They weren’t boyfriends. But to call Evan an ex felt incomplete. It felt wrong. They weren’t friends either even though it had been weeks and Tommy still felt like he was orbiting around Evan night and day. And yet the thought of someone else receiving the call, someone else being there for Evan while Tommy might have never known, was enough to nearly make him rip his hair out.

“He doesn’t want anyone to know. But he needs them, Tommy.” Athena pressed. “And he needs to at least be checked out by a doctor. Just please, talk to him.”

Every one of Tommy’s instincts told him to run. It was too much, too real, too close to the line he’d sworn he would never cross unless he was absolutely sure.

But the tight pull in his chest was begging him to stay. That gravitational pull of Evan Evan Evan had him caught up in his orbit still.

Tommy nodded. “I’ll try.”

“He’s over there,” Athena said, pointing to an ambulance. “I’ll be over when I can.”

Again Tommy nodded and then let himself hurry over to the ambulance. He didn’t quite run but it was a close thing. He rounded the corner where familiar long legs were hanging off the bumper and —

His heart broke a little when he saw Evan.

Athena hadn’t lied to him. Evan was alive and while he was far from fine, he was okay. There was a cut going through his brow held together by a few steri-strips and a bruise across his cheek that ignited that urge to start swinging again but he was alive. He was alive and he was whole and he was shaking.

It was a tremble that he couldn’t hide even beneath the shock blanket draped over his shoulders. A terrible, all consuming thing that Tommy unfortunately knew well. It was a whole different thing to see it holding Evan captive though.

“Evan,” Tommy breathed before he even realized he was speaking.

Shiny blue eyes darted up and Tommy managed to catch a glimpse of the red almost welt strapped across Evan’s throat before he forced himself to move.

“T-Tommy?” Evan said, blinking like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. A small smile twitched across his lips before Evan blinked again and he was still trembling. “He—hey! Hi! What… what are you doing here?”

He was pale, his skin slick with almost grey sheen that made his eyes nearly sunken in with exhaustion that bruised circles beneath them.

“Sergeant Grant called me,” Tommy said, crossing the distance between them in three easy strides. “Said someone used you as a human shield and you thought you’d get away with not telling anyone.”

He was trying for light. That was familiar territory. Light. Easy. Pretending.

There was blood on his face, flecks of dried blood that Tommy knew somewhere in his gut wasn’t Evan’s.

Evan pouted. “I—I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” Tommy hedged and he wanted to touch him. He wanted to cup his cheek and tell him it was going to be okay. He wanted to touch him so bad it hurt. “Think you could let a doctor confirm that?”

Evan’s lips twitched like he could see right through him. The scary thing was, he usually could. “I just… I’m really tired. Can’t really stop shaking.”

The crash. Every first responder knew it well. Evan’s body was at war with itself, fighting the adrenaline crash by skittering his blood beneath his skin and his nervous system trying to shut down and make him sleep.

“You… you didn’t have to come,” Evan said and the sting nestled under Tommy’s ribs. He pushed it away and focused on Evan. He had to focus on Evan because Evan may not want him but he needed someone.

Tommy was available. He would always be available.

“I can call E—”

“No!” Evan’s eyes went wide as he sat up, the trembling racking up into a high frequency that practically made his teeth chatter. “No please. I just…. I just need…”

A soft sound fell from his lips as he hunched in on himself, making himself small, and Tommy dropped down to his knees in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, searching up to catch Evan’s gaze. “What is it? What do you need?”

Evan’s lip trembled and that sound fell from his lips again, louder and more obviously a sob he couldn’t keep back. The sheen in Evan’s eyes grew wet and he was right there on the edge; right there and desperately trying to hold on.

Tommy smoothed a hand over his thigh. “Talk to me, baby. What do you need?”

“Tommy,” Evan breathed and then Tommy’s arms full of Evan’s trembling form.

Tommy held him tight, folding onto the pavement so he could take more of him into his lap.

He was shaking like he was about to break into a million pieces.

Tommy wouldn’t let him. He’d catch each one and put them back in their rightful place if he had to.

“I’m here,” Tommy said into his hair as the hot brand of tears scalded into his neck. “You’re safe. It’s okay. I’m here.”

[panthrology]

waking up horny in the dead of night with SUGURU GETO as your boyfriend is actual hell sometimes

i just know that this man has the worst attitude when really tired. who can blame him? being a guy as hot as he is cannot be easy.

“girl—” suguru would grunt and turn back over after shaking him awake for dick. for dick. yeah self-inflicted really. other times he wouldn't say anything at all, just shoot you a nasty look.

but a girl has her needs.

“baby please?” you try again, perching your chin onto his buff arm. “the dream was a little too detailed.” a small pout forms on your puckered lips.

“that isn't my fault,” suguru counters, the soft bass in his voice resounding in your shared bedroom. “you couldn't have waited until there was light outside?”

you shake your head.

“must be tough. good night, sweetheart.”

this man. you groan out an exasperated ‘suguru!’ and curve over his form, staring at him as if he can see you through his closed eyelids.

“no, y/n.”

“i’ll top?”

you lied.

you knew damn well you couldn't be bothered to ride him to an orgasm at two in the morning and so did suguru. so when he scoffed and muttered “roll over.” you were grinning victoriously.

“I don't belive you.” suguru hissed, lifting up your hoodie over your hips and feeling up the skin of your ass.

“sorry, sugu’.” you're breathless already when he starts spreading the globes of your ass apart to take a good look at your cunt through low lidded eyes with the sleep and arousal still weighing them down. suguru merely tutted, wrapping a hand around his bobbing cock to push his tip in for the second time tonight.

you tensed as you sunk your head into the pillow in front of you. suguru had a big dick. you knew that much from the time you caught wind of what his attitude was like. nonchalant, quiet confidence, tall, pretty large hands. You'd be surprised if he didn't.

“y/n..if you don't relax. I can't move if you're trying to crush me.” you roll your eyes—so dramatic.

you ease up, but quickly choke on your breath when he slides all the way in, filling you with his thick inches. your pussy flutters at the intrusion, squeezing suguru again. “shiittt baby..” yeah—he undoubtedly missed that.

and when suguru sees your ass ripple and hips jump forward with every deep thrust, he suddenly thinks that he made a good decision.

but he was still fucking tired.

“mm-mm, don't run from me, sweetheart. you wanted me to give it to you, so take it—take this dick ‘fore I take it away.”

“you're so needy, can't even let a man sleep.”

“pretty girl just can't stop creamin’ all over me, so cute.”

“listen t'thaat, it's like your pussy's doin’ all the talking. have i made you dumb already, sweetheart?

for someone who’s so fatigued, he can't seem to shut up at all. mumbling and groaning nastiness all up in your ear like he's drunk on your pussy. suguru thinks he just might be.

he's got a firm grip on your hair and one digging into the fat of your hip, balls thwacking against your sticky cunt. suguru's strokes are mean, every ridge of his cock rubbing against your cushy walls. you're actually drooling, the dizzying mixture of exhaustion and pleasure making you float higher than the pearly gates. Yet with the way your hole squelches when he goes real deep..and his fat tip grinds on that one spot, you're going anywhere but heaven.

You don't even have to say it, suguru knows. suguru knows you're about to cum when he can feel you sporadically squeeze him and when your moans get longer and higher against the pillow you bury yourself into.

“gonna cum already?” he's giggling, the trembles of your ankles and the way your fist tightens not going unnoticed by him. “fuck me back, then. show me how bad you wanna cum on me.” he stops all motion before yawning out loud, a lazy hand reaching his face to cover his mouth. how sexy.

pressing your lips together, you brace your hands out in front of you and swing your ass back on suguru. you were on thin ice right now, and with his snarky attitude, he literally might just leave you high and dry.

your knees are unsteady and shaky but you persevere, looking over your shoulder to see jet black strands hang over his face and shoulders, and amber eyes steeled on where you two connect. his lips are parted slightly as he huffs out a gravelly groan.

“yeah, jus’ like that. fuck me.” suguru praises, words sliding over each other slightly. he picks up the pace again, balls tightening as his head hangs low. he listens to your drawn out moans, sounding more like broken sobs with each stroke he gives you and it makes him dizzy. “‘m gonna cum, i'm gonna cum.” he's whining now.

“inside, sugu’—don't stop!” you beg as you spasm around him, milking your boyfriend.

suguru huffs out a laugh, a lazy grin stretches on his lips. he loves seeing you needy and mind-fucked like this—it scratches an itch deep in his soul. “alright. stay still f'me sweetheart—gonna give it to ya how you like.”

a shattered whimper rips from your throat as he pushes his hips all the way forward, and rams himself all the way in so his cock bullies that spot, the one that makes your cunt gush.

“o-ohh, my god! right there..’s right there, ‘m gonna cuumm..” you wail but he shushes you, the volume of your moans making him wince.

“make a mess pretty girl,” he grunts before his jaw goes slack and ropes of his sticky load flood your cunt. “fuuuckk..” but he doesn't stop—he powers through his orgasm and into overstimulation. suguru smiles when your eyes roll back and your limbs go limp, wailling into the satin pillowcase as you cum and cream onto him.

you think you black out for a second with your ears ringing and heart hammering in your chest. knees falling flat, your entire body slumps forward into the mattress as the aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you like lightning. you could practically feel the beads of sweat sliding down your body underneath your hoodie.

when a warm and wet rag slides against your slit and inner thighs, you glance behind you and see an entirely spent suguru. he's continuously yawning while he pulls your flimsy underwear back up, before tossing the damp towel into the dirty laundry basket.

“thank you sugu’,” a satisfied sigh escapes your lips as he tucks you into his embrace, yet all suguru can do is scoff. you couldn't help but giggle at his annoyance, smiling like a cat who got the cream.

literally.

“next time, I'll just ignore you and get my well deserved sleep,” he spits, resting his chin atop your head.

totally worth it.

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