#even when you torture edge him for hours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blkkizzat · 2 months ago

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PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ 𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟑 — 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: nov 8th, 8:48 am ⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞: tshirt with no panties + dubcon + edging + cunnalingus + squirting + backshots + brat!reader ⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 3548

𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A week into ‘No Nut November’ Toji already is feeling fidgety—not that he’d ever admit it. No, he was going to win and prove to you he wasn’t like those other chumps you dated in the past, pussy couldn’t control a man like him.

Yet a part of Toji has to know he is lying to himself.

Otherwise why the hell did he get out of bed last night at 3 am, dick stiff as fuck, while your ass was still asleep?

The job Shiu gave him could have waited a few more hours for daylight to break at least. But laying in bed, wide-awake and fully bricked, Toji's cock nearly jumped out of his sweats when he swore you softly moaned his name in your sleep.

Fuck he could practically smell your pussy too! Toji couldn’t get the fuck outta that bed fast enough.

Speaking of jobs, he’d been taking more of them—anything to get him out of the house. Although he told you it was so you'd stop nagging him about bills—a big ol' lie.

Now, hours later after returning home, Toji steps out of the shower. Scoffing at his reflection, the grumpy look on his face is all thanks to his twitching hard-on practically waving back at him in the mirror.

Annoyance simmered in his chest. Toji wanted to call the whole fuckin' thing off but his pride had taken a hit the moment you goaded him into this ridiculous challenge. Your smug, off-hand comment about how he’d 'fold like an omelet' if he attempted 'No Nut November' had sealed it.

He couldn’t let that remark just slide.

It had only been a week so far but a chore from the start. A foolish experiment neither of you were built for. Restraint had never been either of your strong suits—not when you could barely keep your hands off each other for a single day, let alone thirty.

Even three years into the relationship, that much hadn’t changed. He’d fucked you so often, so thoroughly, he knew your body as well as his own—a truth that made this self-imposed abstinence feel less like a challenge and more like torture.

Toji knew you were struggling through all of this too. The way your thighs pressed together when he casually manspread on the sofa the other day had been proof of it. You tried to play it cool but your eyes betrayed you, locked on his cock like you could melt the fabric of his pants with sheer willpower alone. Squirming in your seat, you made it painfully apparent how badly you wanted him buried inside you, stretching you open like only he could—yet you also refused to give in.

Unfortunately, you were both as stubborn as all hell. Neither of you willing to bend first, even if it was driving you both insane.

*CRASH*

Hearing the shattering of glass, a sound Toji recognizes far too well by now, he makes his way to the kitchen.

Tsk—he’s told you over and over to just call for him when you want to reach the top shelf.

“Mamas, that lil’ short stack ass of y'ers better not be up on that counter again. I told ya—”

Toji grins widely upon entering the kitchen.

“....heh, ya fucking slutty ass minx.”

Caught red-handed, you’re balancing on your tippy toes on the edge of the kitchen counter, with one leg hiked up on a spice shelf for extra leverage. However, Toji was far less concerned with the fact you disobeyed him now that he’s seen your state of undress.

Like a starved predator his eyes rake ravenously over your exposed flesh—your entire ass and pussy poking out of one of his old t-shirts you often slept in. Toji licks his lips as he hones in on how even your puckered rear hole seems to clench tighter, sheepishly even, under his scrutiny.

“And just what do ya think y’er doing, slut?”

Frozen mid-stretch, you’d whip your head back to see Toji.

His arms are crossed over his broad, bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, giving him the appearance of a Greek god. The morning rays stream through the kitchen, casting a warm glow that highlights every chiseled inch of his body. The towel around Toji's waist hangs low, giving you a peek of the sleek black hairs leading down to—his completely bricked up erection aggressively poking through his towel.

“Nah, eyes up here slut.”

Toji snaps his fingers and you manage to rip your eyes away in order to roll them back, not letting him get away with any sass.

“I’m hardly a slut for trying to cook breakfast, Toji.”

Finally getting your mixing bowl at the sacrifice of 3 others, you safely plant both feet on the countertop.

“Nuh-uh, ya know what I fuckin’ mean, ma—heh, ain’t a slut but y’er tooting that fat ass up f’er me bare, knowing you shouldn’t even be up there in the first fuckin’ place." Toji's grin widens deviously. "I know y'er tyna tempt me lil' girl—so just give in. Just say ya want me t’ fuck ya mamas and I’ll do it.”

You bristle at his words—he had some nerve!

“As if! You’re the one who's been walking around with a loaded gun in your pants all week!”

“Yeah mama n’ ya been lookin’ at my dick like ya wanted me to bust this gun in ya for just as long.”

You fluster, caught. Thinking your drooling over the heavy cock in his pants had gone unnoticed, yet you were sorely mistaken.

“Now y’er walkin’ around without panties and in my shirts knownin’ what that fuckin’ does t’me—y'er not slick at all, ma”

Unfortunately, you don’t realize just how close to snapping Toji actually is as you stand your ground throwing more sass back at him.

“Get over yourself Toj! I’ll have you know I didn’t even have any last night either—you know the saying—gotta let her ‘breathe’.”

And that was the final straw.

Your heart races seeing the darkened look in his eyes, not to mention the smirk on Toji's face is absolutely diabolical now.

He’d woken up so early thinking he was going mad with arousal that he was manifesting you moaning for him and the smell of your sweet wet pussy only to realize you’d be practically advertising yourself to him all night—fuckin' taunting him to take a peek. “Oh? She’s having trouble breathing, my favorite girl? Well then, looks like that stuffy lil’ cunt needs some mouth-to-mouth then, mamas.”

Before you can blink, your vision blurs as Toji moves with blinding speed, his Heavenly Restriction amplifying every motion to an imperceptible degree. Manhandling you roughly, Toji splays you out on your stomach across the marble counter of the kitchen island, sending whatever are on it crashing to the ground with the others you'd broken.

You don’t have to ask Toji ‘what in the hell he thinks he’s doing?’ as you figure it out as soon as you feel the baggy t-shirt fabric bunching at your upper back and his breath ghosting over your bare cunt.

Toji isn't surprised that you are already moist and leaking just from him calling you a slut a few times, your slutty lil cunt would get soaked for far less.

Toji anticipated that though and he is pleased that he can see the slick glossing your pussy lips as he pulls back a bit to admire the view. You looked like a freshly prepared breakfast platter to Toji, he didn’t need you cookin’ anything else either—just heat up that tight pussy of yours for him and he'd take his fill.

Placing a tender kiss on your ass cheek the gesture is almost an appology for whats to come as Toji quickly follows it up with a searing bite into you squishy flesh. Not leaving the other lonely, Toji graces gracing your other ass cheek with an open palmed spank. You're trying not to squeal as he kneads your supple skin between his fingers, squeezing the fat of your ass posessively. However, Toji is displeased at you trying to hold back your cries and for that you're spanked harshly again. The force leaves a handprint burning in your skin as the sting pushes more gooey nectar out of your cunt.

“Nah, none of that holding back now slutty mamas, ya wanted this teasin’ me like that now I want ya to scream f'er me.”

Panting you attempt to resist him again, wanting to push yourself up off the counter but it's impossible when your feet aren’t even touching the floor. Your toes ghosts over the ground as you try to wiggle free. Yet your flimsy protests didn’t last long as your limbs go rigid once Toji peels back your sopping folds exposing your runny, twitchy pussy hole to him.

“Tsk, see that ,mama? Only a week without my mouth on ‘er and this silly slut of a pussy forgot how to breathe. Look at her strugglin, beggin' to be resuscitated.”

Keening lustfully at his lewd accusation, you chew on your plump bottom lip as his large rough tongue takes the first slow n’ savory swipe over your soaking pussy lips.

You couldn’t hold back any longer.

“C’mon, p-please eat me daddy, To—JIIIIIIAHH!”

Your begging is cut short as Toji latches his mouth to your fat cunt, tongue diving into your pretty peach like a man starved.

Oh okay, fuck! Why were you holding yourself back from this again?!

Real nasty with it, Toji is literally gargling on the juices seeping steadily from your creamy cunt. Slurping up your arousal like a man parched, Toji is unhinged and feral as he spits your fluids it back into your pussy before lapping it all up again with a deep swirl of his tongue.

Achring instinctively, your hands flail in an attempt to push Toji's head away, but all you manage to do is tangle up your fingers in his damp raven locks. Instead of dislodging him, your efforts have him burrowing his face deeper between your thighs, smothering himself in your creamy core. Toji's thick tongue continues its prodding, flicking and stroking—mapping every inch of you as if to make sure your pussy hadn't changed in the week he'd gone without her. Releasing a deep guttural hum inside you, vibrations course through your body as his own sloppy groans of pleasure mix with your gasping cries for mercy. The sensation is overwhelming, and just as you think you can’t take any more, his fingers find your swollen clit, strumming on it in a pace too cruel that only intensifies the pleasurable ache within.

“Fahh-HAHH!”

As white edges your vision and you begin falling into the throws of ecstasy—the first orgasm you had in a week—however, you wouldn't experience the sweet nirvana you crave just yet thanks to Toji cruelly ripping it away.

Smacking his lips with a satisfied sigh like he finally had his fill from a water fountain, Toji dislodges his face from your puffy and drenching pussy. You don’t even need to see Toji's face as you can practically hear the smirk plastered across his lips, still dripping with your juices messily stained all around his mouth and flowing down his neck.

“Admit it—”

Standing, Toji taps his cock on your sticky pussy lips, hypersensitive now from the way he’d just been aggressively munching on her like full-course meal. The knob of his cockhead, flushes red and angry as it pokes into your slippery entrance. The ring of muscle slowly opening wider to accommodate the large girth that threatened to impale your pretty lil' pussy fully at any moment.

“—admit you got that short slutty as of y’ers up on that counter to test me—and I’ll put it in.”

The fact is Toji was near his limit anyway and likely would have snapped later on that night if you didn’t try to tempt him like this. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if it was intentional—but he didn’t care at this point because truth be told he’d been looking for any little excuse to bend you over like this for the past 2 days.

“NNNGHH—not fair! TojiiiiiiEEEE!”

You pout, tears on the edges of your eyes as he delivers more smack to your jiggly cheeks, enjoying the way they ripple under his hand.

“Say what I wanna hear slutty mamas… n’ m’gonna give fat ma here what she's been craving all week…”

Toji exhales sharply, his breaths uneven as he watches globs of his pearlescent pre-cum ooze indiscriminately from his tip. Toji strokes the base of his shaft tightly, a calculated effort to control himself as the mere sensations and sounds of his tip only gliding against your soft squelchy pussy lips threatens to undo him entirely.

You could almost feel the desperation radiating off of him. He wanted this just as much as you did—asshole.

Although if anything, the truth is Toji broke first. However, while a part of you wanted to fight him on that, a bigger part of you couldn’t care less. Laid up on the counter with no leverage you knew he'd turn you out into his pretty lil’ cocksleeve if you did as he asked—and you did miss him fucking you like his personal pocket pussy.

“Hnnnn—FINE!”

You glance back over your shoulder at Toji, sweat beading on your furrowed brow, your bottom lip jutting out as you say the words that you know will have him pureeing your guts as soon as you do.

“Daddy, *sniff* m’sorwy m’just a bratty slut who just wants her tiny pussy fucked—m’so horny n’ I want you s’bad… n’thats why I got on the counter to show you how much she m-missed you!”

Like the little temptress you are, you wiggle your ass up towards him as best you can with your feet dangling. Toji barks with laughter at the site.

“Heh, now was that so hard slutty mamas?”

Yet Toji couldn't delay andy longer, the little composure Toji had in the moment is lost as he thrusts himself deeply into you with a fierce snap of his hips.

The weight of him leaning into you and stretching your greedy hole that hadn’t been fucked in a week knocked all the air out of you—you couldn’t even scream. A paralyzing shiver jolts down your spine that reaches all the way down to your pussy, tightening enough it threatens to break Toji's dick in two.

“Fuuuck, mama. You’re s’tight, relax. Ngnnh—never doing this cuck ass shit again though baby….I’ll fuckin’ kill someone first.”

Toji’s voice carried a rare, almost whiny edge as he grits his teeth—muttering something along the lines of, ‘pussy gon’ kill me’.

You’re not able to think about that too hard though as Toji doesn’t remain still inside you for long. Jerking back, Toji pistons his hips into you, growling like an animal in heat.

Toji feels like a fuckin teenager again the way he's leaking precum into you. Gritting his teeth, Toji couldn't have imagained before this that a lack of pussy for 7 days would have his knees threatening to buckle.

Fuckin' hell, he wanted to cum already.

Lifting your hips up off the counter with his massive hands, your body ragdolls as Toji's sharp bullying hips completely turn your pelvis into mush. Toji's eyes dim to a dangerous forest green as he watches his cock be consumed by the thick supple lips of your pussy, disappearing deeply in your runny cunny over and over.

He'd gladly die like this if given the choice.

And you aren't fairing much better.

“HUUU, F—”

Words fail you as drool seeps from your slackened jaw, your brain being fucked completely smooth under the relentless onslaught. You can’t hold onto anything to ground you, even if the slippery marble countertop offered any kind of leverage. Toji’s thick, veined shaft scrapes mercilessly over that tender, spongy spot that has you seeing stars. When he bottoms out, slamming against your cervix, his balls slap against your swollen clit, sending bolts of white-hot electricity up your spine—like Toji’s sole intent is to shatter it and you entirely.

Your broken cries intermingle with Toji’s throaty growls, each one more primal than the last, mirroring the raw hunger driving his movements. His broad, muscular hands lift your hips effortlessly, spreading your soft flesh wide as his thumbs press insistently against the taut rim of your asshole, teasing and massaging it open.

A strangled raspy moan escapes your lips nearly choking you when his thumbs plunge inside your ass to hook and stretch it wide.

“P-Pweasee, n-not there D-Daddy—SHIIIIIIIT!”

You sob, your body trembling under the overwhelming sensations. The mix of burning desire and the relentless pressure makes you feel as though he might actually break you. It had been a while since Toji fucked you there, and you weren’t sure you’d survive the intensity of pleasure now after being dry a whole week.

Toji doesn’t answer immediately, his silence heavy and deliberate. When you finally muster the strength to glance back, your breath catches as you see him spit a thick loogie directly into your asshole. “NNNN, Tojiiiish!” Your voice pitches higher as his thumbs toy with your puckered rim, stretching it an indecent amount as he pushes it open before guiding it close again, only to repeat the process with more spit dripping into the tight opening. Before long, your ass is doused and full of his spit, just as your pussy is stuffed with his cock and pre.

Toji's other hand clamps down on your hip, gripping tightly as he uses it to drive you onto his cock, hitting your devastatingly sensitive spots with unrelenting precision. The wet, obscene squelch of your cum mixes with the sharp, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the room filled with the sinful symphony of your high-pitched moans and his raw, gravelly grunts.

On the brink, your body coils tighter with every thrust, every teasing stretch of his thumbs violating your puckered hole. The tension builds unbearably, pushing you closer and closer to that euphoric edge.

Toji is close too—you can feel it in the erratic, almost feral rhythm of his thrusts, his desperation mounting as he hurtles toward the edge. His grip tightens, nails digging half-moons into your sweaty skin as he pounds into you with rough, unrelenting force. A frenzied energy drives Toji, as if the only release that could satisfy him lies buried deep in your slobbering cunt. His balls draw up tight, his blood boiling in his veins as his body ruts into you on pure, unthinking instinct.

A helpless groan escapes his lips, raw and unrestrained, followed by a soft, unexpected whimper—so quiet it's almost undetectable by your ears but you must have heard it because your pussy pulses at the sound. Intoxicating, Toji's desperation laid bare, every ounce of control unraveling as he chases his release.

For the first time in ages, Toji feels disconnected from himself, his body reacting before his mind. Therefore, he doesn’t even register his release until he hears you scream, your walls clamping around him like a vice as his hot seed floods into you.

Your orgasm washes over you shortly after, your squirt gushing around making more of a mess of your kitchen island as the euphoric tension boils over.

Toji lowers your hips gently onto the counter removing his thumbs from you, bracing himself on his forearms to keep from crushing you. His breath is thick and swampy against your neck as he languidly rocks into you, until he pumps every drop of cum into your slutty lil pussy.

Stilling in you, Toji closes his eyes.

Fuck, he’d not cum that hard since the first time he fucked you.

Yet it's you who eventually breaks the silence.

“Y-You came before me, ‘ol man..”

Wearing a lopsided smirk, you lay exhausted and completely spent on the counter, appreciating how cool marble always stayed in this moment basking in your victory. You moan softly as Toji grumbles, getting up and pulling out of you causing your still sensitive walls to push out his plug of cum from your pussy— and you can feel it flowing down your shapely thighs.

“...so what I said earlier means fuck all, you know you technically lost No Nut November first huh, Daddy?”

You're radiantly smug, yet your victory was short-lived.

“Heh, you think we’re done? Don’t ya think I’m owed a lil’ more?”

Toji's voice, low and gravelly, sprouts goosebumps racing across your sticky skin. His cock, drowned in the mingled evidence of your arousals, swipes along the curve of your ass. His tip feels even more engorged than before as it presses insistently against your rear hole—that's still fluttering helplessly in the absence of his fingers.

Yet not leaving for long, his thumbs return to trail possessively over the taut ring of muscle, spreading it open a lil' wider to stuff his girthy fat cockhead in.

“Now mamas, ya know I’m a gamblin’ man. Best two outta, three..."

A smirk curls on Toji’s lips, as he can feel the shudder convulse all the way down your spine, puckering your ass tigher around his cockhead.

"...I didn’t spend all that time spreadin' this cute lil’ stink hole back here for my own amusement, eh?”

𝐚/𝐧: next 12/14, 6:00 a.m. PST queued ryomen sukuna toji daddy is a big pushover for your holes<3 lmk what you think! reblogs and comments make my ass tingle all nice <3

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 3 months ago

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pt.4 SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

synopsis ⸺ In a Gotham steeped in darkness, Bruce Wayne confronts a past resonating with secrets. As he uncovers the identity of an enigmatic antiheroine, he will discover hidden truths that will stain his legacy. Blood, a symbol of betrayals, intertwines with his fate, revealing that darkness dwells within him as well.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, tw.noncon, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I took a long time because I went on vacation, I wasn’t inspired, I had a lot of things to catch up on, and blah blah blah. The good thing is that I brought part 4, and just so you know, there are about four or five more parts of the story, maybe more.

I'm dirty, infinitely dirty,

this is why I scream so much

about purity.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the memories and the silence that now inhabited that room. Every corner of that space reminded him of his daughter's presence, a presence that had been fragile and ephemeral, like smoke disappearing between fingers. He looked at the diplomas and trophies on the shelves, those small proofs of her effort and dedication. He caressed them with the same reverence he used when going through old photographs, searching for something, anything, that would tell him he had done enough, that he had been a good father.

But he only saw the same emptiness in her eyes that he had known since childhood. She resembled him more than he would have imagined. In her dull gaze, in her absent smile, he recognized the same pain that had accompanied him after his parents' death. He realized, almost bitterly, that this darkness was an inheritance, a shadow he had left in her without realizing it.

Bruce ran his fingers over an old photo from her first birthday after losing his mother. That day, Alfred had secretly taken her to Metropolis in a desperate attempt to give her some happiness. But even at the amusement park, where laughter and noise were contagious, her face remained a vacant mask. She wasn’t really smiling, as if something inside her knew she would never have the normalcy that other children enjoyed.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce rested his head on the pillow that had been hers, wanting to cling to the scent of his daughter. But there was no trace of her aroma left. Alfred, in an act of rigor that Bruce couldn’t understand, had eliminated any trace of her, perhaps trying to close a wound that Bruce was unwilling to let heal. He had reproached Alfred for hours and hours for erasing that last vestige of his daughter. But Alfred’s look, serious and filled with silence, told him what he already knew: maybe he didn’t deserve to keep those memories because he had failed to protect the person he loved most.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the pain of each thought that emerged from that dark room. Everything reminded him that, somehow, he was responsible for his daughter's disappearance, as if his own shadows had consumed her. In his mind, images of what he could have done differently began to surface, a parade of possibilities where he was a better father, more attentive and less blind to her suffering.

Suddenly, Titus and Alfred the Cat entered together through the door, coming in silently, as if they understood the weight of that moment. Titus approached Bruce, resting his massive head on his knee, while Alfred the Cat jumped onto Bruce's lap, purring softly. Bruce petted the dog and the cat, finding in them the only comfort that seemed left to him. His voice trembled when, in an almost delirious tone, he confessed to them:

"Maybe I’m the real killer here. What kind of father lets his daughter get lost in the dark? What kind of monster was I that I never saw her pain? If she’s dead… if my little girl has left this world… then I am the only one responsible."

He paused, breathing heavily, as the words he wanted to suppress escaped his lips in a bitter and disturbing whisper. "Sometimes I wish I had�� had stopped her mother. If she hadn’t been… if I had raised her from the beginning… I could have saved her from so much pain."

The words, though spoken in a barely audible murmur, weighed heavily in the room. He caressed the pillow, almost pleading for the past to change, for every mistake to be undone. The cat purred softly, as if understanding the pain Bruce was trying to stifle deep in his chest. Titus looked at him with eyes full of loyalty, without judging him, but not offering the redemption he desperately sought.

"I would give anything for a second chance," he whispered, his voice broken. "I would give my life to undo every moment that made her drift away. I would give anything to see her smile again, even if it were just once… even if it were just to tell her how sorry I am."

The house was silent, and in that instant, Bruce understood that there were no words, no time, no strength that could change the past. He was trapped in an abyss of guilt, with only shadows and memories now haunting him, reflecting his own empty and broken face.

Finally, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling the emptiness in his chest, tears began to fall onto the pillow, soaking it with his pain, as if the weight of his own guilt slid out in every sob he tried to stifle. His face was buried in the memory of his daughter, lost in the pain that tormented him with an intensity he could no longer bear.

It was then that Damian entered, dressed as Robin, with his katana stained with a dark red liquid that could be nothing other than blood, with a sharp and direct arrogance, breaking the silent mourning of Bruce. Coldly, he looked at his father and pronounced, almost with disdain, "No matter how much you cry like a whore, Y/N won’t come back."

Bruce looked up, surprised and hurt, but before he could respond, Damian continued with the same hardness. "While everyone was out in a gang like a bunch of lowlifes and came back empty-handed, I found something you didn’t even bother to look for while lying here like a cheap whore." Damian looked at him with a mix of disappointment and reproach, as if he couldn’t understand how his father had let so many signs slip by.

"Did you know? I had a relationship with Ivy, that old woman who had the indecency to date my little sister while being an old hag. Plus, she worked as a waitress in some bar wearing little clothes to survive. Like some common bitch. And the last time, she was seen in the subway, with a strange man with psychiatric crazy vibes... surely another one that slipped away while you were lying here." Damian’s words were blows to Bruce, each revelation a testament to how much he had let slip away.

Damian continued, each phrase laden with resentment and questions. "Why did she have to work? Why did she, the daughter of the renowned multimillionaire Bruce Wayne, the masked hero of Gotham, have to depend on a miserable paycheck that didn’t even cover the end of the month? And the subway, father, did she really have to take the subway like any unknown person in this city?"

Bruce looked down, unable to respond. Each of those questions was a dagger reminding him how far he had been from understanding his own daughter. He had ignored, or perhaps never wanted to see, the sacrifices she made to survive, the paths she took in search of something he had never given her. Now, with Damian's words filling the silence, Bruce realized he had condemned his daughter to the same fate he was trying to combat on the streets.

Damian watched him, his gaze cold and critical, as the room filled with a tense silence. For the first time, Bruce understood that perhaps he was never the hero he thought he was, and that in his attempt to protect everyone, he had failed to protect the one who needed him the most.

Bruce felt anger bubbling inside him, intensifying with each word that left Damian's lips. "How dare you come in here and say that? You weren’t a brother to her, you weren’t there when she needed you the most," he shot back, his voice echoing in the room like dark thunder. The image of his daughter intertwined with his rage, each contained tear now fueling his fury.

Damian frowned, unrestrained. "That's how I show my affection; you should be used to it," he retorted disdainfully, recalling that moment when he arrived at the mansion, he had stabbed Y/N with his katana. "I did what I had to do, and I don’t have to accept your reproaches. Everyone failed Y/N, even you."

"Don’t try to blame others for your own failures!" Bruce shouted, frustration filling every corner of his being. "You weren’t there, Damian. You can’t always hide behind your arrogance."

Damian crossed his arms, his defiant attitude unbreakable. "And what if I wasn't? At least I didn’t hide behind a mask of sadness. Better stop reproaching me and listen to what I have for you." He stepped closer, pulling out a half-open old cardboard box. "I brought you a gift."

Bruce looked at him suspiciously. "What is it now?"

"I went looking for Selina, but she slipped away like a scared kitten," Damian said, mocking the situation. "A waste of time, but I found Ivy in Arkham. She said little about Y/N, which annoyed me, so… well, here you go." He opened the box slowly, revealing Poison Ivy's head, the fresh blood still dripping from the edges.

Her face, once beautiful, was now serene, with pale skin and a touch of green that evoked her connection to nature. Her normally vibrant red hair now fell messily around her face, while her eyes, closed forever, seemed almost at peace, as if she had found a breath in the chaos she once inhabited.

Bruce felt as if the world had stopped. There was no horror in his gaze, only an emptiness where anger and sadness collided. "What have you done?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but resignation permeated every word. The life of his daughter, the decisions he had made and what that meant now overwhelmed him.

Damian shrugged. "She was a monster, just like all of us. What matters is that now you have something tangible, something you can show."

"What kind of family are we?" Bruce let slip, feeling defeated. "This family is a failure."

"Oh, so it turns out we’ve been a family all this time?" Damian replied, scornful, but his tone was less certain.

Bruce closed his eyes, feeling the discomfort of the situation. "Take me to the apartment where she lived," he said, his voice enigmatic and cold. It was a request that resonated with the gravity of what he had lost, an echo of what he had failed to protect. As Damian looked at him with surprise and a hint of concern, Bruce knew that the truth he would face in that place was beyond any form of redemption. The darkness that had invaded his life was about to be confronted, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he would find.

As Bruce and Damian prepared to leave, Titus and Alfred the Cat watched them from a distance. The dog remained alert, his ears perked, as if he could sense the tension looming in the air. His instinct told him that something grave was about to happen. Alfred, with his wise and sharp gaze, seemed to share the same unease, his eyes fixed on the men who were heading toward the dark fate they had chosen.

As Bruce and Damian headed for the door, Titus stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern and determination. It was as if he were trying to convey a silent message, a call to reason that his owners could not hear amid their emotional turmoil. Alfred the Cat, with his elegant stride, approached Bruce and rubbed his head against his leg, seeking comfort for the hero who seemed on the brink of losing himself even further in the darkness.

Turning around, Bruce felt a pang in his heart. He looked at his animals, those innocent beings who had always been there to offer him companionship, and realized that they were aware of what was about to come. In a world where violence and betrayal lurked around every corner, their departure was the beginning of something much darker.

With one last look, Bruce found himself in Titus's eyes, reflecting a mix of loyalty and worry. It was as if the dog knew that the decision they were making would not only affect them but would also drag others into a chaos from which they could not escape.

Damian, impatient, had already crossed the threshold, but Bruce paused for one more moment. "I’m sorry," he murmured, although he was not sure to whom he was really addressing: whether to the animals who looked at him with eyes full of wisdom or to himself for the path he had chosen.

However, it was already too late to turn back. With one last glance at the room where it all began, and at the animals who looked at him with concern, Bruce stepped into the dark world that awaited them, unaware that soon, everything would get worse. The air was charged with ominous anticipation, and the feeling that tragedy loomed over them like a shadow, deep and inevitable.

You lay on the bed, your body still heavy from the forced encounter, thoughts fluttering in your mind like butterflies trapped in a net. The room was enveloped in an unsettling gloom, the air thick with a tension that could not be ignored. Beside you, he breathed with a calm that contrasted with the whirlwind inside you. There was no name, no face to remember; it was just him, the one who had kidnapped you and made you his own, a figure who had taken your life and distorted it at will.

As you stared at the ceiling, the silence became a mirror of your thoughts. Rage and hatred toward your family surged within you, feelings that had once seemed so distant. They didn’t understand you, they hadn’t been there to protect you, and now, in this strange intimacy, you found yourself wishing to be with him more than with them. Confusion engulfed you; on one hand, there was a part of you longing for affection and acceptance, while on the other, there was a strange pleasure in the situation, a desire to escape the life that had caused you so much suffering.

Despite everything, you missed your mother. Her laughter, her hugs, the way she always knew how to calm your fears. But that maternal figure was slowly fading from your memory, drowned by the anguish of betrayal and loneliness. You found yourself trapped between the desire to remember the good and the hatred toward the past that had brought you here.

As the room remained silent, a dark and almost self-destructive impulse took hold of you. With trembling movements, you picked up a sharp object and pressed it against your skin, feeling a sting that was both physical and emotional. In that moment, you thought about the irony of your situation: you had lost control of your life, and in seeking an escape, you chose to hurt yourself.

The duality of your feelings was heartbreaking. On one hand, you yearned for freedom, to reclaim your identity and the love that had been taken from you. On the other, there was a part of you that felt alive in this new relationship, a twisted connection that kept you captive. The internal struggle manifested in every thought and every action, revealing the complexity of your situation.

You remembered moments from his life, the wounds he carried, and the pain he had faced. Had Bruce ever been so lost, so filled with sadness that he had to do the unthinkable to feel something? The idea that the man you admired could also have been vulnerable struck you like a revelation. You wondered if he had ever cried in solitude, questioning his place in the world, if he had ever felt so trapped in his own life.

As you touched your stomach, an old pain resurfaced. There, beneath the skin, was a scar, a reminder of the time Damian had hurt you with his katana, an act that had been both an attack and a cry of desperation. The brush of your fingers over the wound, although healed, still brought memories of suffering and betrayal, a deep connection intertwined with the pain you felt now. The scar was a metaphor for your life: a wound that would never fully heal, a reminder that pain is part of your existence.

Tears fell more forcefully as you thought about how your family’s decisions, rivalries, and chaos had influenced your life. Bruce, with his constant struggle against the shadows of his past, was a reflection of what you could have been: strong, determined, but also broken and lost. In that moment, you felt just like him, entangled in a cycle of suffering and confusion.

You allowed yourself to cry, feeling that perhaps in that vulnerability there was some freedom. It was a relief, an act of resistance in the midst of the oppression that surrounded you. As the outside world faded away, the pain of the scar became a reminder that, despite everything, there was still a part of you yearning to break free, wanting to escape this darkness. And amid that sadness, one thought grew stronger: perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to find your path again.

The man let go of your cheek and, with a casual gesture, lit a cigarette, the smoke dancing in the air like shadows in the dim light of the room. His eyes, fixed on you, had a dangerous intensity. "Do you see this?" he said, exhaling the smoke slowly. "Now you are stained, like Gotham. You’ve been in the mud, and it’s your duty to clean yourself up. This is just the beginning."

He looked at you with a twisted smile, an expression that mixed amusement and dominance. "You have to understand that you can’t escape from what you are. The city is a reflection of yourself. And like Gotham, you too need to be purified." With a sudden movement, he offered you the cigarette. "Smoke. It will help you forget the tears."

You hesitated, but his eyes challenged you, a clear message that there was no room for denial. With a mix of fear and despair, you brought the cigarette to your lips, feeling its bitterness touch your tongue. "Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, his voice a cold whisper. "I want you to feel the poison, just like the city does. You are part of it now, and you must accept your role."

The pressure of his words overwhelmed you, each syllable a reminder of your distorted reality. "But why me?" you stammered, feeling desperation twisting inside you. "Why do I have to be part of this?"

"Because there is no choice," he replied with disdain. "There never was. Every day, every decision you made has led you here. Weakness is not an option. Look around you; Gotham has no place for the weak. If you want to survive, you need to get your hands dirty. And believe me, there is a lot of blood to clean up."

Your heart raced as you inhaled the smoke, the burning filling your lungs and leaving a feeling of emptiness. "What do you want from me?" you asked, feeling the power he had over you strangling you.

"I just want you to accept your new place. I want you to understand that in this world, death and destruction are inevitable. There is no redemption for the stained, but you can try to fix it… in your own way."

He trapped you in a dark cycle of thoughts, where each of his words echoed in your mind like a terrifying echo. You knew he was playing with you, manipulating your emotions. "If you don’t clean yourself, you will suffer the consequences. And if you cry for her again, I promise you will pay for it," he said, tightening his grip on your arm.

As the smoke dissipated into the air, the feeling of being trapped became more palpable. You found yourself between acceptance and internal struggle, but deep down, you knew you had to find a way out. However, the darkness around you grew more intense, and each of his words was another chain binding you to this fate you had not chosen.

The air thickened as he exhaled smoke, the room filling with a gray fog that seemed to reflect the chaos in your mind. He looked at you with an intensity that overflowed with obsession, a strange mix of affection and dominance that enveloped you. Despite the tears running down your face, you felt no sadness or fear. You had passed the stage of terror; now you felt strangely alive, almost liberated in your pain.

"My dear," he said in a soft yet authoritative voice, "you must not see this as a punishment. It is a purification. Gotham needs someone who understands its pain, and you are the chosen one." He leaned closer to you, his hot breath on your skin. "You are like a spark in this darkness, and together we can illuminate it. You just have to let the poison flow through you. With each tear, you are cleansing the city."

As he held you, the contact between the two of you was electric, and a part of you began to understand his madness, the way he had woven his dreams of greatness and purification through your own desires for belonging. "Did you know my mother was in Arkham?" he continued, as if sharing a special secret. "She was stained too. In her mind, she fought demons that no one else could see, just like you now. And look where she ended up: trapped in her own memories, in her own shadows."

The revelation hit you. A fragment of pain resurfaced, intertwining with the new knowledge. "What… what happened to her?" you asked, your voice trembling. It wasn’t sadness you felt; it was curiosity to know that story that had remained hidden.

"She got lost in the darkness of Gotham, just like everyone else," he said with contempt. "But that doesn’t have to be your destiny. You are stronger. My mother let herself be consumed by her madness, but you… you can take control. Let me guide you."

You fell silent, contemplating his words. The tears continued to fall, but now they were just a part of you, a manifestation of the internal struggle. You knew you were trapped in a dangerous game, but there was something in his promise of power and control that began to seduce you.

"So cry if you need to," he said, caressing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and threatening. "But don’t let those tears weaken you. Every time you feel the urge to cry for her, remember what you are. Remember that the city needs someone like you to cleanse it of the filth."

"How can I do that?" you asked, feeling the echo of his words resonate in your mind. "How can I clean something so deeply rooted in darkness?"

"With determination," he answered firmly, his eyes shining with a mix of fervor and madness. "You must learn to see the beauty in chaos. There is power in pain. With every action you take, with every decision you make, you will be purifying Gotham of its own decay. And I will be by your side, guiding you. Together, we will be unstoppable."

As you absorbed his words, a strange sense of purpose began to take shape within you. Although his love was perverse, there was something in his vision that resonated with you, as if you were destined to fulfill that role. As the smoke from the cigarette faded into the air, so too did your fears, leaving only a cold and clear determination: you were going to take control of your destiny, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

"No! I don’t want you to go!" shouted little Y/n, clinging to her mother's handbag with the desperation of someone who knows something important is about to slip away.

Her mother, a blonde woman with a tired gaze, let out a sigh of impatience. Y/n couldn't quite remember her face, but she knew it hardened at the tug on her bag, and without thinking, she pushed the girl, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud. Y/n looked up from below, her big eyes reflecting a mix of fear and pain.

"Stop being silly, Y/n," her mother murmured, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. She leaned down, trying to smile, but the coldness in her eyes betrayed her. "You know I have to do this... for both of us. Everything I do is for you, even if you don’t understand it now."

The girl nodded slowly, but inside, she felt the truth—that repeated phrase was just a curtain. She knew there was something broken in her mother, something she was too young to fully comprehend but sensed in every harsh gesture, in every bitter word that hung in the air. Something that made her feel alone, even when they were together.

Her mother straightened up, adjusting the bag as if it weighed tons. She raised a hand in a mechanical farewell, and without another word, she left through the door without looking back.

Days passed in a haze of silence and dry tears. Y/n had no idea how much time had passed since her mother left, leaving the echo of her footsteps as the only reminder of her presence. Hugging herself, she spent the nights waiting for some familiar sound that never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized her surroundings had completely changed. She was no longer at home; she was sitting in a cold, unfamiliar room, with gray walls and flickering lights dimly overhead. In the distance, she could hear whispering voices.

"How is it possible that someone left such a small child alone?" It was the firm, serious voice of a man. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she distinguished a police badge on the man's uniform. It read Commissioner Gordon.

Next to him, a red-haired woman spoke in a low voice. "Dad, you can't be sure. Maybe it was just a lie. You know how her mother was: a history of psychiatric hospitals and drugs at home. How do we know she didn't make up the story about Wayne?"

"Barbara, we have evidence that doesn't lie," Gordon replied coldly, his tone tinged with disdain. "We know the paternity test is real."

The girl felt the world sway around her. She listened to every word and felt each comment like a dagger sinking deeper into her chest. Those adults, figures of authority and trust, spoke of her mother as if she were little more than a mistake, something despicable that had left scars on her life. Sitting there, hidden behind a wall and hugging her knees, tears returned to her eyes, a mix of sadness and a terrifying understanding of what it meant to be alone in the world.

"Do you really think someone like that should have had a child in her care?" Barbara said from her wheelchair, her tone full of contempt. "She was probably just looking for easy money, manipulating everyone she could."

Commissioner Gordon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Barbara, that's not fair! Even if she didn’t lead the best life, she was still a citizen like anyone else, and she had the right to rebuild her life. No one is perfect."

From her corner, Y/n tried to cover her ears, but Barbara's words were impossible to ignore.

"I can't believe it, Dad. How could anyone in their right mind have left a child in the hands of that woman?" Barbara said with a cold, almost poisoned voice. "Someone who clearly had drug addiction problems and who was in and out of psychiatric hospitals. I bet she didn’t even know who the real father was."

Each word made Y/n's chest tighten even more. Her mind screamed silently: Stop! Please stop saying that about her! Her small hands trembled as she remembered the moments she had spent with her mother. Her mother, who although had those dark days and her brusque manner, had fed her, tucked her in, and cared for her as best as she could. Despite her mistakes, she had been her mother, and that was all Y/n could understand.

But Barbara’s words kept filling the room, like a storm of resentment. "I don't know how Bruce can even be involved in something like this. That woman was a burden to everyone. I can't imagine anyone worse as a mother."

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block it out. It's not true. She’s not bad. She took care of me. We didn’t have much, but she always tried to be there for me. But no matter how hard her thoughts tried to silence the pain, Barbara's words left deep scars, increasingly difficult to heal.

As Y/n remained there, her tears already dry, her thoughts twisted in her mind like threatening shadows. She heard the echoes of Barbara's cruel words and Gordon's, and a silent resentment grew in her chest, almost like a slow poison. She tried to remember the good moments with her mother, but the dark thoughts seemed to drown them out. She was good, she was good... No, you can't say that about her... But those same thoughts tangled with hate and confusion, and the pain grew stronger.

Suddenly, everything turned white. The walls, the voices, the cold metal chair beneath her legs... everything disappeared into a blinding void that enveloped every corner of her mind. And then, there was only her, standing in that white abyss, with a strange weight on her shoulders and in her hands.

She looked down and saw a white armor, shining as if made of shards of moon and shadow. It covered her body completely, with firm, polished plates that fit like a second skin, protecting every part of her. The gauntlets were solid, with sharp and detailed edges, and in her hands, she wielded two katanas whose blades reflected that void like deadly mirrors.

The design of the armor was imposing and terrifying. The helmet resembled a bat, with long pointed ears extending upward, and a dark V-shaped visor that barely revealed her eyes. The lines that ran across her chest and arms formed the silhouette of folded wings, as if that bat awaited to unfold at any moment. The chest was engraved with fine black details, resembling veins radiating dark power. In the center, a small emblem in the shape of a black teardrop contrasted with the radiant white of the armor, like a mark of pain and sacrifice.

In the dim light of the void where she stood, Y/n felt the weight of the katanas in her hands as if they were extensions of her own being. In that moment, the white armor fit her like a comforting embrace, a reminder of the power she now possessed. She looked at herself in a non-existent reflection, feeling that every part of her being was ready to act, to reclaim what she had lost.

With a tremor of emotion and a palpable obsession, she held them to her chest, hugging them tightly. Words flowed from her lips, laden with a burning, almost manic desire: "Soon you will be mine... I will go home. I will be my little girl again."

The echo of her voice resonated in the white void, vibrating with the intensity of her longing. In her mind, an image formed of a home, a place where shadows no longer lurked and where her mother, though imperfect, would be able to embrace her once more. The idea of being together again, of transforming her pain into power, filled her with a fierce determination.

"I will come back for you," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of tears and a crazed smile. "Nothing will stop me. I promise." The choked laughter turned into a murmur of echoes, resonating in the abyss like a sinister promise, as the world around her began to fade again, leaving her alone with her obsession and her new identity.

In the silence, whispers began to rise, soft at first, but increasingly insistent. One word repeated, muted yet burning, like a spark in the shadows.

The word reverberated in the void, growing more intense, like a kind of dark mantra. And when Y/n could barely bear the weight of those voices, one final phrase emerged, chilling and final:

"Death is the ultimate prize."

You walked through the halls of the old apartment block, your white armor shining in the dim light, like a bat defying the embrace of the night. The echoes of your heels resonated, a dark song reverberating in the solitude of the worn walls.

Your figure, sculpted in gleaming metal, was a silhouette of elegance and mystery, as you hummed a forgotten melody, slipping between the shadows like a whisper of the forbidden. Each step was a heartbeat in the silence, a chilling reminder that there is still life in abandonment.

The portraits on the walls watched you, empty eyes that seemed to come alive, as you moved with the grace of a specter, a macabre dance of light and shadow at dusk.

The doors, worn and creaking, whispered secrets of past stories, and you, guardian of those forgotten tales, advanced fearlessly, seeking what was left behind.

You were an enigma, a reflection of the lost, a shadow walking, dressed in white, in a world clinging to its demons, where the past and present intertwine in a lethal embrace, and the night waits, eager for your return.

You paused before the door of one of the apartments, its frayed wood opening like an abyss, a dark invitation that defied logic. The silence became thick, almost palpable, and the echo of your humming faded, leaving a void that swallowed the darkness.

The threshold awaited you, a portal to the unknown, and a cold breeze, laden with whispers, caressed your skin like a lost lover. Inside, the shadows seemed to come alive, a palace of echoes and laments, where time had woven a web.

Your heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and challenge, as you gently pushed the door. It creaked in protest, like an old ghost, and when it opened, revealed an abandoned world, furniture covered in dust, with withered memories.

The remnants of a past life crowded every corner, and a scent of decay floated in the air, but something more, a glimpse of presence, urged you to enter, to explore the hidden. You peered in, and the dimness embraced you, as if the apartment claimed you as its own.

Each step on the creaky floor was an act of daring, and the walls seemed to murmur forgotten secrets, stories of betrayed loves and lost souls. In the center of the room, a dark, diffuse, and shadowy figure formed among the shadows, like an echo of your own existence, a reflection of what could have been.

You stood still, breath held in the abyss of the moment, the half-open door, a threshold to your destiny, and the silence, now laden with promises, stripped you of fears, leaving only the certainty that in that space, you faced the echoes of your own darkness.

As you advanced, your eyes fixed on a dusty, worn wooden box resting on the small dining table. Something about it drew you in, as if it held a dark secret. You approached and, with trembling hands, opened it. Inside, horror was revealed: the head of Poison Ivy, the green hair still vibrant, a gaze frozen in time. You didn’t cry, but a slight tremor coursed through your body, a mixture of surprise and disdain for the brutality that had taken place in that space.

"Normally you enter through the window," you murmur to the air, with an ironic smile on your lips, as if addressing a presence you hoped would appear.

And then, as if the night itself had responded to your call, Batman emerged from the shadows, his dark figure silhouetted against the dim light coming through the window. The air became tense in an instant.

"Who are you?" he asked, his grave voice resonating with a mix of distrust and anger. "What are you doing in the apartment of Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

You laughed, a laugh that echoed in the empty room, filled with irony and knowledge.

"His daughter?" you mocked, your eyes shining with a mix of challenge and amusement. "So Y/n is your daughter. Isn’t it curious how things intertwine in this city?"

The silence grew heavy, and you felt his gaze intensify, evaluating every word you had spoken. He knew you had crossed a line, but the revelation had ignited a spark of playfulness in you.

"How do you know who I am?" The question slipped from his lips, but there was no fear, just an unsettling curiosity.

"Gotham has its secrets, Bruce. And I, like you, am part of this darkness. The identity of a hero or heroine is just a game of shadows, and in this game, you and I know how to move between the lines."

You stood firm, the tension between you palpable, as the echo of laughter still resonated in the air. Batman's figure, always imposing and enigmatic, seemed to waver at the revelation that in this dark labyrinth, he was not the only player.

The tension intensified, and Batman took a step forward, approaching you with an intense gaze.

"How do you know about my daughter?" he inquired, his voice brusque, each word laden with frustration. You remained firm, crossing your arms, letting the silence settle between you.

"Oh, Gotham speaks, even in whispers. The city has a way of revealing what heroes prefer to hide," you replied disdainfully. "Your life, your secrets, are more exposed than you think." He frowned, anger crackling in his eyes.

"What do you know about Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if waiting for you to throw down a challenge.

"I know you didn't want her. That you left her in the shadows while you dedicated yourself to your personal crusade," you replied, irony dancing in your tone. "That girl grew up without a father, and you, the great hero of Gotham, preferred to be a myth."

Rage etched itself on his face, but there was something more, a hidden pain surfacing behind the armor of his anger.

"It's not that simple, and you have no idea what I've done for her," he retorted, his voice tense, each word like a blow.

"Really?" you asked, flashing a mocking smile. "What have you done? Cut off her partner's head, the only person I love, just to extract invalid information? What a great father."

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, as the air vibrated with unspoken emotions.

"You are not one to judge me," he declared, his voice tense. "You know nothing of what I've sacrificed."

"Maybe not, but I know enough about the void you've left," you replied, undeterred. "And I know Ivy was there for her. You, the hero, vanished while others took on the role of father."

The anger shone in his eyes, but there was also a spark of recognition. He observed you, assessing the courage that led you to challenge him.

"And who are you to come and point fingers? A lost anti-heroine in her own struggle?" he shot back, his voice laden with contempt.

"I am what Gotham needs," you replied, confident. "A reminder that even heroes like you can fail."

The discussion turned into a power struggle, both of you clinging to your truths, while Poison Ivy's head remained a sinister reminder of the choices you both had made.

Suddenly, Batman's fury exploded like lightning in the darkness. Without warning, he seized you by the neck, lifting you with surprising strength. The air became scarce, and the pressure on your throat made you feel vulnerable, although the mockery never left your expression.

"Where is Y/N?" he demanded, his voice charged with rage and desperation. The shadows moved around him, intensifying his figure, which seemed more monster than hero at that moment.

Despite the iron grip, you kept your gaze fixed on him, challenging him, feeling the adrenaline pulse through your veins.

"Are you that worried about her whereabouts?" you replied, a mocking smile barely hiding your disdain. "Maybe she's hanging from a hook in a slaughterhouse, who knows? That would be an ironic twist for a girl who grew up in the shadow of a hero, don’t you think?"

His eyes narrowed, anger and helplessness battling within him. You leaned in closer, feeling the pressure on your neck, but that only fueled your defiance.

"Don't laugh about this!" he roared, tightening his grip slightly. The fury in his voice was palpable, but something deeper kept him on edge.

"Me? Laughing? You, the great Batman, scared for your daughter's life?" you shot back, never breaking eye contact.

The tension was becoming unbearable, but there was something fascinating about the game you were playing. He was caught between rage and fear, and you, in your shadowy game, fed off his anguish.

"Do you know something? You're losing yourself in your own legend," you continued, while he held you in the air. "I'm sure you once dreamed that she would have died in that alley with her mother."

In that instant, something in his expression changed. The anger slowly faded, giving way to a deep concern, though he still held you firmly.

"I warn you," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "If you lie to me, I won't show mercy."

You laughed again, though the risk was imminent, as your heart raced.

"And what will you do?" you challenged, your voice trembling but resolute. "Threaten me with your dark past? I'm here because I know the truth, and I do not fear your shadows."

Bruce's patience evaporated like smoke in the heavy air of that apartment. With a sudden movement, he hurled you towards the table, the impact resonating with a crash that reverberated through the walls. Your katanas slipped to the floor, leaving you defenseless. The furniture creaked under your weight, but adrenaline kept you alert, your instincts sharp.

You quickly rose, shaking your head to clear the confusion, while the anger on his face transformed into determination.

"I don't have time for your games, Kerosene," he shouted, stepping forward, ready to fight. "If you know Y/N, tell me!"

You steadied yourself, smiling defiantly as you positioned yourself, preparing for combat.

"Do you really think you'll throw away the only one who can help you?" you replied, feeling the pulse of challenge coursing through your veins. "I'm offering you a chance to know the truth, and you choose to fight. Very typical of you."

With a swift movement, he lunged at you, throwing a direct punch. You dodged, making an agile turn, but the atmosphere became a whirlwind of force and speed.

You charged at him, hitting him in the side, feeling how his tense muscles responded to your attack. It was not just a physical fight; it was a clash of wills, an explosion of repressed emotions.

"You’re an idiot if you think you can scare me!" you yelled at him while he tried to immobilize you. You twisted and managed to sidestep him, landing a blow to his jaw that made him stagger.

Bruce quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with fury. He advanced again, his movements precise and calculated, while you played with speed and agility.

"Stop!" he roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I just want to know where my daughter is."

"And I just want you to stop living in your hero fantasy," you replied, with a defiant laugh as you dodged another attack. "The truth hurts you, Bruce, and you prefer the fight over facing it."

The exchange of blows continued, the sound of fists colliding and the creaking of breaking furniture filling the air. The room became a battlefield, with the table as the central stage of your struggle.

Bruce, with a mix of skill and strength, cornered you against the wall, but instead of giving up, you seized the closeness. With an agile movement, you pushed him back, making him lose his balance.

"Are you going to keep this up? Destroying what’s left of this city?" you said, breathing heavily but not yielding. "Or are you going to listen to what’s really at stake?"

His eyes were now inches from yours, the fury and frustration of his search fueling the spark of the battle. Both of you were willing to fight, but deep down, you knew there was something deeper at play than just physical strength.

The battle continued, becoming increasingly intense and violent, like a whirlwind of unleashed fury. You launched at him, landing a blow that hit his chest, but Bruce responded with a punch that made you stagger; the force behind his blow was terrifying. The rage emanating from him was palpable, and with each attack, both of you took the struggle to a new level.

The apartment walls vibrated with the thud of bodies colliding and furniture being dragged. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the air as you crashed into a table, breaking it into pieces.

You got back up, a piece of wood in hand, and threw it at him. Bruce dodged it, but the fragment smashed against a lamp, exploding into a million shards. The light flickered before going out, plunging the place into an unsettling darkness.

Both of you moved like shadows through the chaos, and sweat and blood began to mix, the air filled with a metallic smell that only intensified the battle. Bruce landed a punch on your jaw, and you tasted blood in your mouth. You didn’t stop; with a cry of defiance, you responded with a series of rapid blows, each one stronger than the last.

You darted to his side, using your agility to hit him in the ribs. The impact made him stagger, but before you could capitalize on the opportunity, Bruce spun around and kneed you in the abdomen. The air escaped your lungs, and the sharp pain made you fall to your knees. However, you didn’t give up.

With renewed determination, you got up and threw a direct punch to his face, hearing the crack of his skin upon impact. Blood spurted from his lip, and the fact that you had hurt him only fueled his fury. With superhuman strength, he pushed you back, slamming you against a shelf, which gave way and collapsed on you. Books and personal items scattered across the floor, covering the place in even greater chaos.

But there was no time to stop. You rose amongst the debris, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. With a leap, you charged at him again, landing a blow that left a mark on his face. Rage and pain intertwined in the air, and both of you were on the brink of madness.

The room had turned into a battlefield, with blood staining the floor and walls. The apartment’s decor, once a refuge, lay in tatters, as if Gotham itself had decided to yield to the brutality of your confrontation.

Bruce, with his determined gaze locked on you, lunged at you again. Both of you were exhausted, but the fight was a necessity, an uncontrollable impulse that kept you standing. His fists and your movements were a wild dance, and amidst the chaos, both of you knew that the outcome of this battle would not only define the present but also seal your fate.

You charged at him, landing a direct blow to his stomach, and when he bent forward, you took the chance to hit him in the face once more. Blood spilled from his nose, but he countered with a knee strike, and the impact resonated in your bones.

The fight continued with increasing ferocity, the room transforming into a wreckage. Every blow exchanged resonated like thunder, but it was the moment when Bruce landed a punch to your side that made you fall to your knees again, gasping for air. The pain was intense, but there was no time to lament; rage and frustration drove him to push onward.

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce lunged at you, and with a rough movement, he lifted you off the ground, holding you by the neck and raising you into the air. You struggled, feeling the pressure increase, the air escaping your lungs. The room blurred around you as you began to lose control.

"Tell me where Y/N is!" he shouted, his voice echoing in your mind like a refrain of desperation and fury.

You were on the brink of passing out, your eyes clouding, but amidst the confusion, you managed to maintain lucidity, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. Bruce's hands were like a yoke around your throat, and the feeling of suffocation intensified with every passing second.

The pressure was unbearable, and you fought to free your neck, to breathe, but it felt like trying to break chains of steel. Your hands struck his arm, but he wouldn’t relent, becoming more focused, more desperate.

Finally, with a titanic effort, you managed to reach your helmet, and in a twist, you pushed him back, but the pressure of his grip was too much. It was then that, in a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, the helmet slipped off your head, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

The light of the apartment filtered back into your vision, and it was at that moment that Bruce, seeing your face, stopped dead in his tracks, the expression of his fury transforming into horror.

The face before him was not just an adversary; it was a reflection of his own daughter. The reality crashed against him like lightning.

"...Y/N?"

A/N ──── I WANT TO EMPHASIZE THAT YES, WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THE DOCTOR AND Y/N IS REAL. And yes, it's necessary; you'll understand why by the end. Furthermore, Ivy's death has always been planned. In the next chapter, a female character will appear who, I warn you, will be a victim of the Waynes, and the scene will be a bit graphic and very grotesque.

I want to add that this chapter is very, very, veeeery weak because I’m very tired, not very inspired, and dealing with other things. I’ll try to do better for the next one and bring you a chapter of better quality.

And a warning for those on the taglist: if you’re already on it, please don’t ask me again and again to add your name because I end up getting confused and repeating names.

Also, there are some that I can’t add for reasons I don’t understand.

If you requested to be on the taglist before and you're not, please ask me here or send me a message; I don’t bite.

Feel free to ask me anything if you’d like.

Take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

@redkarmakai @the-rouge-robin @twismare @wizzerreblogs @beeboopneep @mistfire1999 @delfinadolphin @expctron

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing 's work and @klemen-tine 's work, be sure to check them out!

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yuujispinkhair · 11 months ago

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Yakuza King!Sukuna lives a dangerous life. That's why he only wants you to leave his penthouse with your bodyguard. But what if you crave a treat from your favorite shop just down the street and go on your own?

Based on this lovely ask I received from @subarusuguru. Thank you so much for sharing it with me!! ♥️

Pairing: Yakuza!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 900 Warnings: 18+, smut, spanking + pussy spanking, edging, fingering, dirty talk, use of the pet name daddy. It isn't explicitly stated in this story, but Sukuna and Reader are in an established relationship and have a safe word, etc. Everything happens with mutual consent. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

Yakuza!Sukuna loves you. He loves you so much. You are his whole world, and he needs to protect you, especially when he has so many enemies because of his line of work.

Usually, Sukuna enjoys a little disobedience when it comes from you. He loves to tease you about being a brat and enjoys playfully putting you back in your place. But things are different when he is actually worried about you like he is tonight after finding out you went to a shop all alone, without one of Sukuna's drivers, and even worse, without your bodyguard.

Sukuna knows that he is to blame, too, because he didn't want to scare you and, therefore, didn't tell you how grave the threat is at the moment. But he still can't stop himself from spiraling when he hears you so foolishly went out on your own.

"This has to stop. If I tell you not to leave the house on your own, you will be a good girl and stay inside. And if you really need to leave, you will call Nobara. Do you understand that?"

He can see you gulp hard when you hear how stern he sounds. His maroon eyes, which are usually so warm when they look at you, are cold and hard right now. Tonight, the man sitting across from you isn't just your charming and loving husband. Tonight, you are talking to the King of Tokyo's Underworld, and he will do what he has to do to ensure you stay safe.

That's why Sukuna pats his lap and points an elegant tattooed finger to his fine black suit pants.

"Come here. I will make sure you remember to do as I tell you from now on."

You squeal when he grabs you and bends you over his lap, lifting your skirt and pulling your pretty lace panties down. And you squeal even louder when Sukuna's large hand connects firmly with your juicy ass cheek.

You make a cute sound, a mix between a hiss and a moan, when Sukuna spanks you again, several times in a row, before he uses his other hand to spread your pussy lips and watch the glistening wetness gathering there, your arousal so evident. You are breathing heavily when Sukuna runs a teasing fingertip over your creamy folds before he pinches your wet little clit, eliciting a loud gasp from you.

"I am doing this for you, darling. Don't you understand that I need to protect you? The Zenins are out there, trying to take everything from me. What do you think will happen if you run into them?"

You whimper softly, and Sukuna kneads the plump flesh of your naked ass cheek before he pulls his hand away and adds in a low, stern voice, emphasizing every word,

"That's why," his palm connects firmly with your naked ass again, "you have to," another firm spank, "learn how to obey me."

Sukuna wishes he didn't have to do this. He doesn't want to bend you over his knees like this and spank you like some naughty brat.

He doesn't want to tease you for hours like this, torturing you with pleasure and pain. Rubbing your swollen clit, and occasionally pushing a finger into your tight wet cunt, pumping it in and out of your obscenely squelching wetness, only to pull away again anytime he feels you beginning to tighten around him.

He doesn't want to punish you, making you whine loudly when he lets his large palm connect firmly with your spread pussy.

Sukuna doesn't want to spank and edge you until you are a crying, needy mess who promises him over and over again that you won't leave the penthouse on your own again.

"Please, Sukuna! Please...I... please... I won't go out on my own again! Please, please let me cum, Daddy! I'll be your good girl!"

Sukuna hates having to use his power and strength like that. But he also knows that pain is a good way to ensure a lesson is learned. And at least this is a pleasurable pain, judging by the way you mewl when he pushes two long fingers deep into your soaking wet cunt and fucks you hard and deep with them, torturing your g-spot unrelentingly while his other hand spanks your sensitive flesh.

Your whole body shakes as you cum all over his long fingers that are stuffing your cunt while Sukuna's other hand connects hard with your ass again, spanking and fingering you to an orgasm that makes you cry out loudly.

Sukuna lets out a long breath. The hand that spanked you is brushing gently over your abused skin now, caressing it lovingly, while he slowly fucks you through your orgasm. His voice is low, sensual, and full of love,

"Yes, just like that, sweetheart. You can be so good for me when you want. And I hate having to act like such an asshole. I love you, darling. I just want you to be safe. Do you understand that?"

He smiles when you answer him with a voice thick with tears but also filled with that sweet euphoria you always get after Sukuna made you cum.

"Hmm, yes, I know. I'm sorry for being so reckless, Kuna. I love you too."

You scramble to get up, and Sukuna quickly helps you, wrapping his strong arms safely around you and pulling you up so you straddle his lap, your wet cunt soaking his fine suit pants.

You smile at him and wrap your arms around his neck,

"But, next time, just tell me the whole truth, so I know how dangerous things are at the moment. You shouldn't keep these things from me, baby. I can take it, you know?"

Sukuna's lips lift in an amused smirk, his large hands sprawling over your naked ass, pulling you closer, his lips ghosting over your neck. He presses a tender kiss to your pulse point while lifting his hips to let you feel the large, hard bulge in his pants, his throbbing cock pressing against your hot wet cunt, only separated by the soaked-through fabric of his suit pants and boxer briefs.

"First, show me how you can take Daddy's cock, and then I will tell you everything."

FUCKKK I NEED HIM!!!! Yakuza!Sukuna still manages to make my head spin, and I am so happy I could indulge in this!! Thank you so much for the prompt!! And thank you so much for reading!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet ♥️♥️

You can find more Yakuza King!Sukuna stories here

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna ryomen

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ddejavvu · 3 months ago

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I can't get the thought of marking Hotch up with lipstick marks out of my head. Like imagine leaving a trail of kisses down from his neck to his dick. And if the lipstick is starting to fade, he'd reapply it for her so she could continue marking him

Hotch is typically more-than-professional during round table sessions, the grim atmosphere of the room setting the tone for his no-nonsense behavior. However, he can't stop himself from itching at a persistent stinging against his collarbone- probably something to do with the mark you'd sucked into his skin only hours earlier.

it's such an intense sensation that he slips a hand beneath his collar to itch it skin-on-skin, something probably unprofessional considering his environment, but one of those base human things that must be done even if it shouldn't be. A few wandering eyes note his movements, observant but neutral as a profiler should be.

It isn't until he withdraws his hand, fingers stained a crimson red, that anyone reacts.

JJ shifts in her seat, eyes blowing wide as Prentiss leans forwards, "Hotch, is that blood?"

Aaron's already grasped the edge of his manila folder with his lipstick-stained fingers, turning the yellow paper a sinful shade. He frowns, glancing down at his pristinely pressed suit, but there's nothing red against his chest.

"Your hand," Reid urges, his brows knitted in concern, but it's Derek- of course - who recognizes the red for what it really is.

"Hold on," He laughs incredulously, a great gust of air that comes out like a bark, "Hold on, hold on, hold on, that came off'a your chest?"

Caught red-handed, Hotch composes himself, which is a very stark difference to the way that his team dissolves into teasing giggles. Penelope has clapped a hand over her mouth, perhaps the only way she can hold herself back from opening it.

"Settle down." Hotch attempts, but Rossi undermines him with an exasperated groan. Once the oldest of the team proves unreachable Hotch knows he's lost the room, and sits in stony silence while he waits for his coworkers to finish getting their fill.

"My man." Morgan declares, clapping Hotch on the shoulder with a strong hand he's lucky not to lose, "She got you in the doorway this morning, didn't she?"

"We're talking about dead teenagers, here." Hotch reminds them, raising a brow as Emily, Penelope, and JJ collapse into girlish giggles, "Can we please focus on the case?"

"This is on you, Hotch." Rossi levels him with what's supposed to be an unimpressed glare, and what really comes off as a smirk, "It's not their fault you come to work with lipstick under your clothes."

"I have to ask Y/N for that shade," Penelope gushes, but at Hotch's warning glare she grabs her remote and retakes her place beside the viewing screen, "But-! But our trusty boss is right, there are lives on the line here. So- um, incriminating lipstick stains pushed to the back of the mind, we'll start up again on our case."

Hotch's shoulders relax as the team sinks back into careful contemplation of the case details. He thinks he's escaped scrutiny altogether thanks to the shocking violence of this particular unsub, but it's three days later when he hears about the lipstick stains again.

Surprisingly, it's Reid that comes to torture him, and the slick comment comes when Hotch is forced into sharing a motel room with him. Communal bathrooms are in the middle of the complex, but it's easier to change in their rooms. He unbuckles his belt facing the corner of the small room, giving Reid space to change himself, and giving both of them as much privacy as possible.

"Careful, Hotch," Reid calls, voice misleadingly kind-hearted which lures Aaron into a sense of security, "There's a gap in the curtains behind where you're standing. You wouldn't want any onlookers to see any more lipstick Y/N left behind."

Hotch decides that Reid is worse than Morgan. Morgan is expected to be crass, so it's not a shock when it's delivered. Reid, however, is one to watch out for.

"Reid," Hotch responds, hearing Spencer's breathy laughter already bubbling from his throat, "I'm sticking you on desk duty for a month when we get back."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut

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suncoved · 7 months ago

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HANDS OF AN ANGEL ! — RAFE CAMERON (18+ smut mdni)

in which, washing rafe's hair didn't go as you planned.

you looked up slowly from your book to the sound of your bedroom door opening roughly, rafe trudging in lethargically. your eyes followed him around the room as he threw off his clothes one by one, a trail of fabric following him until he was just left in his boxers.

you rolled your eyes at his unnecessary messiness and let your eyes travel back down to the off-white pages of your book.

you could only read about three words before rafe huffed rather dramatically across the room.

you ignored his annoying sighs and groans until it was physically impossible to not pay attention to him, slamming your book closed and looking at him from the bed.

"what is it rafey?" you asked sweetly, even though you knew what he was gonna ask. "shower" he said simply, nudging his head towards the bathroom from where he stood right outside it. "can't baby, i already put all my lotions and oils and stuff, you're gonna have to have one without me" you answered, watching his face turned into that of a five-year-olds if they were just told they couldn't go to disneyland that day.

"ok" he huffed, turning around and entering the bathroom, but leaving the door open so you could see everything. you giggled softly, turning your attention back to the book in your hands.

you only perked up when you heard the tap of the bath turn on, not the shower. rafe was having a bath?

if there was one thing you had to know about rafe cameron, is that he hated baths, more than an average human being did. he only tolerated them because he could feel you up more in the bath than in the shower because of the close proximity.

but he always took a shower after because he doesn't like 'bathing in his own filth for half and hour'

you itched to get up and hop in the bath with him, but that's what he wanted, because why else would he torture himself like that?

after about 5 minutes of reading the same line over and over again, you untangled yourself from your bedsheets and made your way over to your vanity. reaching your hand into the brown paper shopping bag, you pulled out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, hair masks and hair oils, making your way over to the bathroom with an arm full of hair products.

he heard you from a mile away, staring straight at you as you walked into his trap. "got you baby" he said, hinting at the fact that he was having a bath, for you.

"nope" you said, padding your way over to the bathtub. he looked at you quizzically at the new products you had with you.

you were glad that even though he was very very naked, there were mounds of bubbles covering him, his face and shoulders the only thing showing above the water. because after you spent nearly an hour after your shower rubbing oils and creams over your skin, you really didn't want to end up in the bath with rafe

"what've you got there bug?" he asked as you dragged your soft bathmat to the edge of the bathtub so you could have something to kneel on, placing the products softly on the floor.

"gonna wash your hair rafe" you state, reaching over and running your hand softly through his wet hair. "yeah?" he asked, tilting his head softly in admiration. "i went out and got some stuff for your hair type, not that you need any help with your hair at all! i just wanna do stuff for you like you do stuff for me." you quickly got quieter by the end of your sentence, avoiding eye contact with him.

"c'mere baby" he whispers, matching your soft tone. you hesitantly look at him, biting your lip nervously. your chin felt wet as he gripped it softly, bringing your lips to touch his as he kissed you. he pulled back first, resting his forehead on yours as he looked at you. "thank you, baby. i don't do the stuff i do for you to get repaid, but i love that you think of me"

you beam at his words, leaning down again and placing one last peck on his lips.

you pull up the sleeves of your long-sleeved white pyjama shirt before you lean over to squirt a generous amount of shampoo on your palm.

after rubbing your hands together to create a milky white texture in the shampoo, you leaned over the tub. the white acrylic made contact with where your bra wire would be had you been wearing one, oblivious that as you were reaching your arms to rafe's hair your tits were being pushed together, his eyes immediately staring holes into your cleavage.

"your hair is gonna be so soft rafey!" you exclaimed, using your acrylics to massage the shampoo into his scalp, making his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure.

you pulled back after sudsing up the liquid, biting your lip in concentration as you placed your hands on the side of his head and lowered his hair in the water.

he looked up to you, your hair hanging over him, your stare so concentrated, and your tits fully in his face.

rafe knows you didn't notice how much harder it was getting to hide his hard-on under the now less soapy water, the combination of you scratching his scalp and your cleavage fully on view making him spiral.

"ok, all done! once you get out, ill-dry it and put some oil on the ends." you voiced after raking the conditioner and leave in treatment through his hair, leaning down to kiss him after he made a come here motion with his fingers.

what you were unaware of though, is that as rafe was deepening the kiss between you two, he was pulling his hands out of the warm water and straight to your chest.

"rafe!" you gasped, pulling back instinctively as his hands made your once white shirt now see-through at your nipples.

"shh baby, c'mere. don't make me ask you again" he groaned, sitting up straighter so he could use his hands to pull your body towards his.

as he began another steamy kiss with you, he traced your nipples through your shirt, making you shiver. "rafe... i don't wanna get all wet" you whined, pulling back for a moment, giving him a chance to latch his mouth onto one of your tits.

"ill help you put more cream on later, now let me fuck that sweet pussy of yours" he rasped, pulling your shirt and shorts off as you came to a stand in front of him.

"can't believe my baby would think that i would let her win and sit out there reading her book. so naive" rafe cooed, his soft mannerisms of holding your hand until you made it safely in the tub being a complete juxtaposition of the nasty words he had uttered before.

you melted in the somehow still-warm water as he sucked at your neck, his hands roaming all around your body until he made it to your core.

"you're lucky we're in the tub bunny, because i'm gonna make you cum so hard you're gonna make a mess" he whispered into your ear, bringing a strong hand up to rest firmly around your neck, and the other now making circles on your clit.

you looked up at him in a daze, you're eyes already glossed over as you laid your head against his chest. due to the confined space, you could already feel his hard length resting below your ass, making you squirm.

he entered one finger into you without warning, making you gasp. "shhh, quit whining. you're alright." rafe commanded, beginning to pump his finger in and out of you. he placed soft kisses on your head, his hand on your throat providing a comforting presence to you somehow.

rafe always made sure that during these times you felt loved and appreciated by him, knowing that your mind had the tendency to roam with thoughts 24/7.

"ready for another baby?" rafe asked, your walls somehow still tight around his finger. your hum in reply earned rafe to tighten his hold around your neck, urging you to use your words.

"yes rafey, please" you replied, snuggling more in his chest and looking up and him with glossy eyes. "ok, are you sure you can take it?" he teased, earning a whine to come from your chapped lips.

he slipped another finger into you, pumping them in and out as you squirmed. "good girl, such a good girl for me" he praised, beginning to pick up speed as you gleamed at his praise.

"g-gonna come rafey" you whined, gasping as he quickly pulled his fingers out of you. you immediately turned your head to look up at him in shock, annoyed that he wouldn't let you come to his reach.

"don't look at me like that brat, you can cum on my cock" he remarked, placing another kiss on your head as you whined once more.

he pulled his hand cock to line up with your entrance, stroking your cheek as he slid into you softly. "shh, your alright sweet girl. i got you" rafe reassured in response to your gasp.

he groaned as he bottomed out inside of you, stalling for a moment to look at your expression before beginning to pump in and out. "shit, most perfect pussy i ever had. taking my whole cock like the perfect girl you are, love you so much" he rambled, his mind in a haze as you squeezed around him.

he began picking up his pace, slamming into you from below as the water rippled from his movements. you were to cock drunk to worry that the water could splash out of the tub, gasping as he brought a finger down to circle your clit.

"rafe" you whined as you tightened around him, signalling to him that the knot in your tummy was about to burst. "i got you baby, milk my cock"

you squeezed your eyes shut as you came around him, hearing his groan echo in your ears as he shot his load inside of you. you rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he worked you through your orgasm, slowing the circling of his fingers as he stroked your hair as whispered in your ear

"so perfect for me baby, so so perfect"

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #outer banks

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thinkinonsense · 5 months ago

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first sleepover with worst!logan *mdni

the two of you hadn't been together very long before you invited logan to stay over; and to say he was hesitant would be an understatement.

"i'm not sure, princess..." he mumbles, getting up from the couch to leave again.

"c'mon lo..." you purr, stopping him by crawling into his lap. "it's getting late anyways."

this was the latest he had been over; almost three am. you weren't sure why he was so insistent on leaving, during the day he would hang around your apartment for hours but when night falls, he's eager to go. none of it made sense to you but to logan, it was crystal.

to start, he didn't want you to get too attached. logan couldn't have a sweet young girl like yourself get wrapped up in his twisted ways. from the moment first saw you in your silky, tiny nightgown he knew he wouldn't last a whole night alone with you.

"ain't gotta worry about me, sweetheart." he said, tucking a strand of lose hair behind your ear. "i can take care of myself out there."

you look up at him with these sad pouty lips that remind logan of one of the many times he's been shot in his lifetime. he loathed how soft you're making him; smoothing ever sharp edge of him until you've molded him into your perfect mate.

"pretty please, logan." you whine, wrapping both arms around his neck. the begging was only making it worse for him.

"i don't want to have to do this, doll face." he sighed, hands unknowingly traveling to your hips and playing with this silk.

"then stay here with me."

logan didn't think he was this weak. the old him would've just barked in your face and stormed out of the apartment already; but instead he's being dragged into your bedroom. the only part of your apartment that logan has never seen. well, technically he's peeked in once or twice but he's never been inside. everything about the room reminded him of you. soft pastels plastered everywhere and cute little decorations littered about.

what really got him was your bed. baby blue sheets with matching pillows and a decorative heart pillow front and center. if wade saw him sitting in this girly bed, logan would never hear the end of it. but for her? he would lay here until he died.

"whatcha think?" you ask him with a small smile.

"looks just like you; pretty and vibrant." he says, one hand on your jaw to pull you into a quick kiss.

logan stripped himself of his shirt before climbing in next to you. both of you laid on your sides with one of logan's arms wrapped firmly around your abdomen in the quiet bedroom. time passes and logan thinks he's finally got himself under control; falling asleep peacefully for once.

"mmm... lo..." you groan softly from your slumber.

logan wasn't an idiot, he knew what has happening. it wasn't easy but he tried to block you out, ignoring your sweet cries for him which had become manageable until you began squirming against him; your volume increasing little by little.

finally, he had to put an end to this torture. both large hands placed on your waist tightly and almost harshly to stop your movements, ultimately awakening you.

"lo, what are you-"

"can't even behave while sleeping, huh?" his voice was hot against your ear. logan's right hand travels up the nightgown to paw at your chest in a way that made your eyes roll back. his left hand travels south, exposing the thin matching material underneath your nightgown which sends your head flying back against his shoulder. the movement exposes your neck to him, biting and licking as he pleases.

"s-s-sorry for... for w-waking you up-p." you apologize, moving against his lower hand.

"no need to apologize, dollface." logan chuckles darkly at the eagerness and candor in your voice. "this is a much better sleepover than i imagined."

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stvrnzcherries · 5 months ago

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› WHEELS ON THE BUS

m. sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: You and Matt have always been best friends, you never felt something else but an incident while you both were in a road trip together might change that.

warnings: soft dom!matt, smut, pet names, use of y/n, foreplay, p in v, degrading kink, sort of breeding kink, edging, bulging, swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't).

word count: 3.8k

a/n: After MONTHS of being a lazy ass and also after a TIGHTT week of anxiety, I’m back and better than ever 🤍 expect more coming soon, I appreciate y’all.

Based on this request!

The cold breeze tingled Matt’s skin, sending shivers down his spine as he kept piling up everyone’s bags inside the car truck, the blue hour of the sky created this dark yet comforting panoramic view of it.

A voice in the distance caught his attention “Wait up!” You taunt, running down to your best friend as a heavy bag carried behind you. You agreed a few days ago to go on this trip with Matt and his family since he was practically begging you to spend an entire week with him; even though he knew you hated the beach, you hated feeling sticky or feeling a singular drop of sweat on your skin, being in heated places was a thing that always drove you to the edge and you would get in a bad mood the whole day because of it.

It was just too excruciating, but you accepted just because your best friend didn't want to spend an entire week without you yet he liked seeing you suffer since he had always known your hatred towards the beach.

“Here ya go,” You said as you lifted the bag with all the strength you had and handed it to Matt, he just looked at you, a cocky smile forming on his lips as he placed your bag on the last spot in the trunk. “You excited?” Matt asked, closing the trunk before his eyes returned to bore into yours waiting for an answer, “If you mean I'm excited about torturing myself an entire week on the beach, then yeah.” You replied sarcastically gaining a chuckle from him, “It’ll be fun, I promise.” He said, patting your head gently.

“I highly doubt that being in the hottest weather ever is fun, Matthew.” You said, sticking your tongue out, he just chuckled and messed your hair a bit, his hand gently moving to cup your cheek as he pinched it delicately, “Thank you for coming either way.” He smiled gently and you returned it.

The eye contact lasted for a few seconds before the lousy voice of Chris caught each other’s attention, you both turned around to see him walking towards you “Time to hit the road!” He says with a big smile as he places his arm around you, he looks at Matt and then at me, “Are you guys ready?” He asked to which you replied with, “Heck yeah! Let’s hit the road!” A bright smile smeared your face as you, Matt, and Chris made your way to the backseats.

When Chris stopped taking hold of you to go to the other side of the car you were left with Matt inside the car and his face giving slight concern. “What’s wrong?” You ask furrowing your brows slightly.

That is when you realize what it was, the backseat had no space left for you, and neither Matt nor you knew what to do, “Fuck.” He muttered to himself looking back to where his brothers were situated and back to you with an awkward face.

Matt thinks for a second before parting his lips to let out the sentence, “You could sit on my lap.” His palm softly patted his lap as he looked at you with a sly smile.

Your lips pursed into a thin line, the awkwardness getting the best of you as you got into the car and carefully down your weight on your best friend’s lap. To which he just placed his hands around your waist and gently sat you down on his lap. “Relax, you’re not heavy at all.” He whispers in your ear as the car door closes.

You looked back at him and smiled shyly, trying to hide the fact that he was caressing the sides of your hips with his thumbs.

The first two hours of the road were completely normal, you and the triplets had a karaoke session for half an hour, and the rest was to talk about what you guys wanted to do as soon as you arrived and enjoy some snacks. But now you guys were only an hour away from the beach house that the triplet's parents rented.

Nick and Chris had fallen asleep for a few minutes and you could also feel your eyes heaving from the energy you wasted the first two hours throughout the way, also the fact that you didn’t sleep that well last night. Matt on the other hand was with his headphones on the minute Chris and Nick closed their eyes.

You patted Matt’s lap to get his attention, you looked back at him as soon as you did that he took his headphones off “You okay? Need something?” He asked with slight concern.

“No, I’m fine, I was just wondering if I could get comfortable so I can sleep while we get there.” You said with a little smile plastered on your face as he nodded.

Matt spread his legs slightly so you could have more space to get as comfortable as possible, you rocked your hips a little to the sides so your lower back could be resting on Matt’s chest level or closer to it, and you rested your head on his shoulder as he put his headphones back on.

Your eyes closed so easily, and your mind drifted to your dreams so swiftly that you couldn’t even imagine.

Thirty minutes left inside the car, you were still in the embrace of Matt’s arms, your position shifting once in a while.

And how clueless of Matt for not thinking how touch-deprived he is, every time you switched your position while your slept you would move your hips or straddle his lap, making his dick twitch against his pants.

His breathing getting heavier, and his body was shaking trying to contain the pure excitement that just the smallest friction could do to him. He felt so guilty for his body reacting and finding pleasure in something meaningless; something completely common and normal.

He closed his eyes, trying to contain these feelings towards you, towards your body to stop the erection that he sooner or later would have to fix all by himself.

And also wish he could arrive as fast as he could to the fucking beach house.

After what seemed like a good twenty minutes of sleep, you finally opened your eyes carefully, trying not to get blinded by the rays of sun that were passing through the window, the change of scenery makes your stomach flutter with joy as you see the ocean peek through the reliefs of the street.

You turned your head to peek at your best friend who seemed to be sleeping, his dark circles showing off a little bit more with this new change of lighting that the car has. You smiled to yourself as you saw your best friend opening his eyes quickly when he felt your gaze on him. “Did you get to sleep for a bit?” You asked, your throat was dry and raspy, nonetheless, a good cup of water could fix it as soon as you guys arrived at the beach house you were staying in.

Matt nodded, his eyes looking away from yours as he changed his position a little, making your weight lift a little, a small poking sensation in your inner thigh as he did this action. Something felt off in your surface.

You looked down, scanning Matt’s lap to check if he had something in his pockets that could make this sudden change in position make you slightly uncomfortable.

Your eyes widened as you took a glance of what was the strange object poking your inner thigh, it wasn’t just an object it was more of a certain body part. You looked away in shame, forcing yourself to stare at the blankly looking headrest in front of you, your stomach feeling fluttered as you tried to stop thinking about what you just witnessed.

The beach house was beautiful outside, it was a two-story victorian summer house, with a small front porch with two wooden chairs and a tiny round wooden coffee table, the breeze hugging your skin nicely, everything seemed to be perfect, the weather in Long Island was just the perfect balance of not too warm and not too cold, it definitely felt like the summer vibes were there.

As you entered the house, your eyes were amazed by the interior, the walls were covered in this beautiful blueish floral wallpaper, the couches looked like they some sort of English sofas, and a small chimney facing a large path to the back porch of the house, the stairs that lead to the way to the different rooms where you would be staying in for the next week.

Matt steps beside you, glancing around the place, “Wanna share a room?” He asked nonchalantly as he looked at you, taking in all of your factions, you looked back at him “I thought you and Chris agreed on sharing the same room, though?” You retorted.

Matt brushed the strands of hair blocking his view, “Yeah, I thought so too until he decided that he now wants to share a room with Nick.” He sighed, “I think I’m going to go upstairs and shower and then take a nap, I feel like I haven’t slept in years.”

You nodded “Alright, I’ll catch you later.” You replied, giving a sly smile to him as he walked upstairs and disappeared out of your sight. Things have gotten awkward since you discovered the hard-rock erection he had back in the entirety of the ride. You didn’t say a word but interacting with him or even just looking at Matt made you nervous somehow.

Your mind kept racing with the thought of seeing his body react that way to you, does this mean he feels turned on by you? Should you do something about it?

A few minutes had passed and you explored the rest of the house already, you carried your bag in your left hand as you went upstairs, a room door slightly opened and a dim light reflected on the inside of it. You pushed the door gently, and the first thing you heard was the shower running down, Matt’s bag half-opened in the bed, you tossed yours to the other side, sitting down beside it, your head had a pounding headache that you couldn’t make it stop.

Scanning the room, you see the bathroom door halfway opened, the fog from the steaming water escaping through it, you could see Matt, his silhouette revealing the way his forehead was resting on the tiled wall of the shower, the water running down his back and cascading through his hair, his hands rubbing his face exhaustingly as he sighed in pure relief.

The way his muscles flexed each time he brushed his hair back was enough to make you soaking wet in your panties. You stood up, your steps closer and carefully just to get a better view of his silhouette.

You were there, your hand opening the door more, the squeaking sound blowing your cover because Matt looked right at you in the eye, the eye contact holding on for what seemed like an eternity. You shut the door and ran down to sit back on the bed.

Would it be worth it to risk it all?

Dawn arrives, you've been playing with Nick and Chris UNO matches for what seems like an hour now on the back porch of the residence, every match Nick either complained or Chris would make a mess and you guys would have to play all over again, that was until Nick threw a tantrum over him and they both went to their separate ways inside the house.

You were lying now on the couch of the living room, bored filling your senses, your phone not even making an effort to entertain you at all. You heard steps coming from the staircase, as you looked up you saw Matt, his hair was still a little wet and he looked like a brand new person in comparison to how he looked a couple of hours ago. “Hey, I’m going to drive around town, I was wondering if you would like to come with me?”

You stood up from the couch, “Sure! I was getting bored, so.” You both walked towards the front door, Matt opening it for you.

The town was almost like a sort of ghost town, with a few people walking down the sidewalk, and making their way to Amangasett beach. The lamp posts illuminated around with a tenuous yellowish light, the night sky revealing a pale moonlight. “Wanna go for a swim?” Matt’s voice takes you out of your trance.

“Yeah, I don't see why not.” You replied with a small smile as you moved to his seat and gave him a side hug, to which he just chuckled and kept his eyes on the road.

Matt parked the car in an almost empty zone at the beach, the place seemed clear of big crowds, just a few couples sitting by the edge of the ocean but no one else. As you got out of the car you took off your shirt and shorts quickly, running down to the ocean as Matt followed your pace, the both of you giggling.

Your body trembled when your toes grazed lightly on the water, the adrenaline and tingling sensation making your heart flutter anxiously, you kept sinking your body until half of your abdomen was fully covered by the ocean, you looked at the moon taking in the sight of it until you felt cold fingertips touch your lower back. “I’m glad you came with us,” Matt said, his voice sounding so distant yet it had a hint of something else you couldn't fully recognize.

He spins you around by grabbing your waist, your eyes meeting his as he pulls you closer, your breaths mixing with each other’s as he takes the sight of your face, his hands still positioned on your lower back. His eyes shone brighter than ever before. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?” You looked for a split second at Matt’s lips, his tongue sticking out to lick the inner corners of his lips before parting them.

“Yeah, friends…” He breathed out, his words laced with that unknown feeling you can’t recognize, his eyes giving a glint of lust as he looked at your lips.

Your mind drifts to the moment you both are in the car, his hard rock erection making you question whether it’s worth it to risk the friendship or pretend like it was a little accident, even though it wasn't little at all.

Or the shower incident, nothing of what happened today was by accident, there was not even a chance that it was.

Your attention gets drawn by his breath getting closer to your ear, his voice carefully whispering his words “What you thinking ‘bout?”

You licked your lips, your voice trembling and your words slipping out of your mouth sloppily “Nothing…w-why?” your lips pressing together as his breath reached down your jawline, his lips grazing the fine line of it teasingly, a low dark chuckle getting out of his mouth when he saw you shiver by the smallest contact.

“Remembering what you saw in the bathroom, hm?” His lips pressed tentatively, traveling from your jawline to your neck, you titled your head to the side to grant him more access, his hand sneaking down to grab your throat delicately as he kept abusing your sweet spots. His other hand caresses your waist.

“I don’t have a clue of what you’re talking about…” You breathed out, breathless whimpers coming out of your mouth as Matt kept doing his attack all over your throat, leaving hickeys and wet kisses all over. He hums, Matt’s vibrant voice coursing through your body “Really? How funny, considering you even tried to be sneaky about it.” He says as he returns to kissing your jawline, then your chin, and then he gets to your lips, tempting you to make the move, his teeth biting your lower lip gently.

“Don’t act so innocent now, you were sneaky about your little accident back in the car too.” Your words shut out with such confidence, you looked at him, your eyes piercing his as you took in his reaction of pure shock; his lips parted and that was the chance you decided to get to kiss him. The both of you synchronized perfectly as if your lips were meant to be for his.

Your hands went directly to his chest, your fingertips doing small circles around his collarbone as he pulled you closer by your waist. Your noses were touching at this point and the kiss got more intense, the both of you roaming your hands all over each other’s bodies.

You were now lying down on the backseat of the car, your hand gripping Matt’s hand as he sucked your right nipple, his other hand playing with the left one, your back arched off the seat and your legs were wide open, fully unclothed now in the secluded space that he decided to take you to. Your eyes closed as you let the overwhelming pleasure take control of your body, his tongue swirling around your nipple, your breathless whimpers making Matt get harder beneath you with each passing second.

His kisses trailed to your belly, kissing it intently “I’m going to stuff this beautiful body of yours with my babies” A dark glint on his eyes as he ascended back to your face to kiss you. His hand traveled down to where your folds were, his fingertips adding pressure as he moved them in circles, causing you to gasp at the sudden wave of pleasure you were experiencing. Your hands flew to Matt’s biceps, your nails burying deep inside his skin as he kept getting you all worked up.

His lips rushed to kiss yours, this time more desperate and sloppier than ever as he kept adding more pressure on your sensitive nub, your moans getting louder as the knot in your stomach gets stronger. “m’ god” You babbled between kisses, your eyes closed as you take in all of the ecstasy.

“So close…” You breathed out, the knot snapping any second.

Then suddenly, the feeling stopped, completely gone.

You opened your eyes, Matt’s looking at you with a devious expression as he untied the lace from his shorts, the bulge of his dick very visible even though you are in an almost dark place. “What?” He asked, his head tilting to the side, a low chuckle as he spoke, “Wanted to finish?” You nodded, the desperation clear.

“Why would I let you finish if we haven’t even started? Hm?” He crawled back to be face to face with you, you felt his tip grazing your folds unintentionally, “Spread those legs wider for me, m’kay?” He said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

The desperation and adrenaline fuels your body, your legs spread wider enough to give him space between you, he positioned his tip in your entrance, edging you out even more until you had to practically beg to him. “Matt, please—“ you huff out at the undying desperation that your body was craving.

“Aw, look who’s getting frustrated now…” He coos, his left hand pumping his dick slightly before he slammed into you without warning, his movements frantic and hard, your head hitting the door slightly each time he pounded back inside you.

Your hands flew back to his biceps, gripping onto them for dear life as erratic moans emitted out of your mouth, his pace was nowhere close to being steady, it was sloppier as if he was already on the verge of getting on his own high too.

The tip of his cock was hitting that sweet spot of yours perfectly, making you salivate due to the incredible amount of intoxicating pleasure you were given in twenty minutes. Your mind felt fuzzy, this kind of pleasure was something that you’d stopped experiencing a long ago, your eyes crossing and shutting as you felt that sweet sensation of being closer, Matt abusing that spot deep inside you over and over again.

You couldn't even remember the last time sex felt this good, and never in a million years, you would’ve thought that your best friend would be the one to achieve that with you. Your thoughts stopped as soon as you felt his thumb on your tongue, indicating for you to suck it which you didn’t hesitate to be asked twice.

Your tongue swirled all over his thumb like a lollipop, getting it all wet as you felt the grunts and whines from Matt, the grip his other hand had on your hip getting tighter within two minutes. His pace not slowing down but getting ten times faster than it already was, the car shaking and your hands gripping the door to hold onto dear life.

Pornographic moans emitted out of your mouth as you felt that tight knot forming once again and getting closer and closer to snapping ferociously, your hand gripping tightly onto the seat as your eyes closed.

Matt’s placed his hand to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him. “All that teasing to get dumb fucked by me?” He said, his voice losing power from time to time.

snap.

Your juices spurt all over the seat and coated Matt’s dick in a thin, sheer coat of hot cum. Moans emitted out of your mouth as your grip on the headrests of the car loosened up due to the lack of strength that your body was capable of holding up. Your legs are all wobbly and your muscles are sore from all the containment that they did.

At this point your mind was fuzzy, too dumb fucked to acknowledge that the well-known knot snapped already, your body too weak to keep upholding Matt’s pace as he kept pumping in and out constantly.

Not too long after, Matt came to his release too. Your juices and his combined deep inside you, he pulled out of you as he admired the conjoined trail of juices coating his shaft. His left hand immediately went deep inside you, making sure his hot seed was ‘secured’. He pulled his fingers out, a popping sound as he did so, and cleaned them off easily, admiring the rest of your body, a gleam on his eyes reflecting the lustful expression of being satisfied enough.

He pulled you close to his body, sitting you straight up as you both recovered, Matt trailing kisses all over your face and repeatedly saying “M’ love you” as he caressed your hair with ease.

Both of your chests were going up and down irregularly, trying to stabilize each other’s breathing back to normality.

Matt’s eyes shifted around the car, taking a look at the foggy windows, a sly smile smearing all over his face as he traced with one of his fingers the foggy window in front of both of you, tracing the words.

‘We just fucked :)’

You finished reading what he traced on the window and chuckled weakly as Matt looked proudly at his ‘work of art’.

a/n: tysm for 600 followers, wtf I can’t believe we’re already 600 (Nick fic coming real soon as a 600 followers special). It’s funny how I can easily write shit about Chris or Nick but when it comes to Matt, this mf is the hardest person to ever write off 😭 love y’all

tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwho @3mm4yung @chrissfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @teenagetrash00 @mattsturnioloisbae @mbbsgf @thecynthh @braindead4l @freshsturns @lexisecretaccx @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi

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hon3y-y · 1 year ago

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Mean nerd! Choso who is extreme intelligent and makes it known. He calls you dumb and belittles your intelligence, but is secretly in love with you. He offers to tutor you and every time you get a good grade he rewards by eating you out and being so sweet and loving, but when you get a bad grade punishment is the worst.

cw; dubcon/noncon (vv light), smut

He’s a meanie but it’s only to show his love:( he wants better for you, and he wants your dumb little brain to be filled with knowledge. He only calls you a “stupid slut” because he cares, not because he likes to see your pretty eyes tear up and your cheeks flush with humiliation. And he definitely doesn’t use that image when he’s pumping his fist full of his cum, his eyes rolling back as he forces himself through a third orgasm to the thought of your pretty tear stained cheeks.

In all honesty, He wants to make you sob on his dick and make your brain numb to anything but the way his cock drags against your tight cunt, maybe he could fuck the knowledge into you? He was willing to give it a try at the very least.

After weeks of torture, he finally convinced you to a tutoring session after saying that “you need him” if you want to pass the class with a decent grade. He worked you tirelessly, making you stay late to study and pulling your hair if you went to sleep(but not before putting his own head down and admiring your puffy lips and the light drool, cooing when your nose scrunched). The sessions usually ending with you in tears, your wobbly voice saying “I’m done.” and leaving mad.

You had full intention of quitting, sick and tired of the endless torments until you looked at your next exam. The score higher than all the rest and a bitter taste in your mouth when you realized he actually did help you.

At the next session you showed him the perfect score, reluctantly saying thank you. You were surprised when he gave you a genuine smile and even more when he had you face down on his bed, eating your pussy like a man. He’s spitting and licking from your clit to your ass, pushing his tongue in and smiling cheekily when you gasp.

Your head is in sheets that smell like him, arching your back as you whimper out praises and begging for him to not stop. He places a teasing kiss to your clit, pulling back to watch his fingers pop through the tiny hole of your pussy, biting his lip to stop a groan as he feels you flutter and nearly creams his pants when you look back to plead with him. “It’s okay baby, I got you~” he leans down to kiss your ass cheek before continuing to eat you out until you’re thrashing and squealing at the lightest touches.

He works you into overstimulation because he loves how you look when you cum, the tiny noises you make and the sound of his stuttered name making his cock twitch. He’ll reach down in the middle of slurping your juices to rub his hard-on through his sweats, letting out little puffs of hot air on your pussy when he brushes over his sensitive tip. He’ll probably make himself cum in his pants, reaching his dirty fingers to push into you or swirl over your soaking lips to make it creamier, watching the two of you mix together, making his soft dick hard again.

But god forbid you bring him a bad grade, you’ll leave sore and bruised. He’ll spank you until you’re sobbing and then slap your pussy until it’s raw, “you’re nothing but a slut huh? What, I treat you well once and you go and get stupid on me?”

He had you in mating press, cock hitting your cervix as you let out a choked sob. You’re sore cunt aches for him. he’s been edging you for hours and refuses to let you cum, leaving you to plead and wail as he pushes you closer to the edge again. “C-cho, please—been s’ good!” You slur, not being able to form words as he bullies his cock into you and uses his hand to cut off your circulation.

He scoffs, “good girls get good grades.” He pulls out completely, groaning as he pumps his cock and cums on your face with a whine. You shut your eyes when it lands on you, eye brows furrowing. “But I haven’t—“ he cuts you off with a tut, shaking his head as he catches his breath. “Only smart girls get to cum, sweetheart. let’s get cleaned up.”

**bonus**Will perform aftercare anyway because he’s not a monster</3, you’ll just pout the whole time and he’ll enjoy every second of it.

#jjk #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #chubby reader #need him so bad #choso x female reader #jjk smut

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ssorenz · 8 months ago

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F*CK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY!!

pairings (separate) ୨ৎ : toji fushiguro x reader, gojo satoru x reader, choso kamo x reader, suguru geto x reader

contains ୨ৎ : adult content (mdni), piv penetration, jealous/angry s*x, face sitting, c*nnilingus, overstim, car sex, squ*rting, edging, oral s*x (giving and receiving), pet names

a/n ୨ৎ : i might make a part 2 w/ sukuna, higuruma, nanami and shoko (or others), but it depends on how well this does!! not proofread btw, i posted this while half asleep 👎

in honor of me hitting 300+!!

toji fushiguro—☆

“fuck did i tell you about hangin’ out with that— bastard?” toji emphasizes each of his words with a snap of his hips. deep, merciless strokes into that, slick, puffy cunt of yours.

it was tired, tired from all the abuse it had taken. toji managed to pull three— no, four orgasms out of you in the span of an hour.

impossible for some. but toji? never that. he knew you like the back of his hand.

which is exactly how he knew you’d be so gullible, so naive, towards your conniving coworker.

of course you didn’t notice when he’d take glances at your tits as they restrained in your uniform. of course, when he offered to take you out to restaurants, you thought of it as ‘strictly business’.

but of course, thats what toji was here for— to keep you in check.

“im, haah— m’sorry tojii!!” you choked out a pathetic sob, trying your best to find common ground with the man. this torture had gone on for.. god knows how long. your brain was too fuzzy to even attempt to recall what time it was.

“sorry, my ass. shoulda’ been sorry a long time ago, mama. s’too late for all that now..” he grunted in reply, still continuing the ungodly pace he was going at.

jackhammering himself into you at this point— his full, aching balls slapping against your wetness.

he had your back arched— face up, ass down, hands tied behind your back, bobbing up and down with each mean thrust. red marks ingrained into the fat of your hips from the way he hooked his nails into them, making sure you’d be unable to run from him.

and it wasn’t just your hips that were marked, oh no. the crook of your neck, just along your collarbone, the inner and outer regions of your plush thighs. toji made sure to mark you up real nice and good.

“if you were really sorry,” he continued. “you would’ve stopped fuckin’ talking to that asshole months ago. then he woulda never thought it was— shit, be so handsy wit’ ya’.”

as toji replayed the scene in his head, his strokes were even sharper, practically burying you into the mattress at this point. he remembered picking you up from work, in your blouse and short pencil skirt that rode up your ass.

your coworker stopped you before leaving though, exchanging a quick goodbye, and a ‘simple hug.’ atleast thats what you called it.

but having his hands around your waist, slowly inching towards the hem of your skirt was anything but simple.

“toji, please— m’ really sorry! didn’t know..” you almost incoherently babbled out. the way his cock repeatedly pummeled its way against your sweet spot, it had you dumb. stupid, even.

“ya’ never fuckin’ know, huh? poor thing..gotta protect you from these men out here, yeah? need me by your side at all times?” he cooed sarcastically as you frantically nodded in reply.

“need you, daddy. n-need you to protect me—”

toji chuckled darkly, almost feeling bad from how pathetic you looked, how pathetic you sounded. the way your eyes rolled back as he hit your g-spot over and over, or the helpless cries that left your mouth as he did so.

“good. n’ thats how it needs to stay, mama.”

satoru gojo—☆

satoru couldn’t wait. he physically could not wait until he got home. no no, he needed you now.

his hands were engulfed in your hair, grabbing a plentiful handful as he bobbed your head up and down, soft groans of pleasure emitting from his parted lips.

“you thought that shit you pulled today was funny, yeah? messy fuckin’ girl.”

gojo had a meeting earlier with the higher-ups, discussing training for his students. you were practically on your knees, begging to tag along. after some consideration, he obliged (of course)—after all, who’s he to deny his favorite girl?

unfortunately for you, the meeting was more boring than you thought. listening to their voices drone on for what felt like eternities made your head ache.

unfortunately for satoru though, you let boredom get to the best of you.

he looked so damn attractive next to you, so professional— like his whole demeanor changed. your mind couldn’t help but wander elsewhere. your hands couldn’t help but wander either, as they discreetly drifted to the middle of his lap.

gojo let out a soft groan as you began palming him through his slacks, but was quick to conceal it with a cough. he tried desperately not to react too visibly, but it was becoming increasingly tormenting with each passing moment.

finally, after what felt like an eternity for both of you (though likely only seconds), satoru couldn't contain himself any longer— interrupting the meeting abruptly by announcing that you both needed to leave early due "to personal matters." with that excuse out of the way, he dragged you out before anyone could question the sudden departure.

to be quite frank, it was hilarious. well, in your eyes atleast. for satoru…?

ah, not so much.

mascara ran down your cheeks, tears welling up—blurring your vision as you felt the tip of his cock hit your uvula over and over. you could feel it throbbing angrily in your mouth as your tongue slobbed around the base.

gojo continued thrusting his hips back and forth into your mouth, holding onto your hair tightly. looking up, you could see his eyes rolling to the back of his head, milky strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

even in his state, he still looked so dreamy.

satoru held you down, forcing you onto his base, your nose brushing against his well-kept happy trail. you choked, strings of drool pooling effortlessly down his cock. he let out a deep, throaty moan that seemed to reverberate inside the car. your mouth was so warm, so welcoming.

gojos thrusts intensified as he continued to recklessly pound himself into your slack jaw, the salty taste of his precum dribbling onto your tongue. he was close to cumming— you both knew it.

his movements became more shaky and jagged, sloppily going in and out of your mouth before stopping. before you knew it, sweet yet salty ropes of his essence painted the back of your throat— making you instinctively swallow. satoru quickly pulled out, resting his bare cock on your face as he felt another load arising.

and it did, painting your pretty face with his sticky, pearlescent seed.

gojo looked at the sight beneath him, cursing underneath his breath as he admired how good you looked. even covered in his cum, even with your hair all disheveled, you still looked amazing.

“a-acting out to get what you want— tsk, what a brat.” he teased, still recovering from his orgasm. typical gojo, even in his weakest moments, he never lost his charm nor attitude.

“well it worked, didn’t it?” you retorted, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

“i- uh. . . no comment.”

kamo choso—☆

choso was never the type to take his anger out on his loved ones, especially you.

the half curse, half human wasn’t unfamiliar with the feelings of anger and jealousy, although he never experienced the writhing feeling first hand.

but of course, there’s always a first time for everything.

“mine, mine, mine—“ choso whined, a series of breathless moans following soon after as he shamelessly pummeled into you. he had you in a nasty mating press as you lay flat on the bed, legs damn near reaching your ears.

“you’re my girlfriend, no one else’s. . . especially not— hngh, his.”

your male friend, who obviously had the hots for you. choso was baffled you couldn’t tell, as his flirtatious remarks and actions weren’t even that subtle.

the way he’d compliment your outfits, blatantly staring at your chest— especially when you wore lower cut tops. or when he’d ogle at your curves, licking his lips as his eyes rode up your thighs.

or like today, when he suggested you leave your boyfriend for him. now that, was choso’s last straw.

"you really shouuuld, ya know?" he slurred into your ear, clearly intoxicated from the drinks you both were sipping on. choso was just a few feet away in the living area, engrossed in some show he was watching. but his eyes flicked over to you occasionally, as he kept an eye on the situation.

"i mean, why are you even with him?" your friend continued, his voice a loud whisper, clearly thinking he was discreet. "you deserve someone who really appreciates you. someone like... me."

choso was enraged—he undeniably heard every word. someone who really appreciates you? the nerve.

standing up, he approached you two, shooting daggers into your friends wicked expression as he wrapped his muscular arm around your waist.

but that cockiness soon faltered after noticing your boyfriends deadly glare. your male friend started pathetically apologizing, claiming it was a ‘joke.’

but even choso knows that drunk words are sober thoughts.

“f-fuuck, ‘cho…he, aah— didnt mean it!”

“dont c-care…” he grunted, low and rough. his jagged, uncontrolled, breaths tickled against your skin as he nuzzled his way into the crook of your neck. “i appreciate you more than he, nngh, ever w-will.”

you let out a soft moan, his words shooting shivers down your spine. choso was never like this— so possessive. but who’s to say you were complaining?

he continued ravishing into you, so carnally— the feeling of being so completely claimed by him was both exhilarating and terrifying.

but damn, it turned you on like nothing else.

his pants echoed in your ears as he picked up speed, his body moving against yours in perfect rhythm, the sound of his thighs slamming against your own. any thoughts you had, fled from your mind except for the sensation of his cock bottoming out inside you and the way he took control of both your body and mind.

as the intensity built, you could feel yourself getting closer to you peak. you didn't want it to end, but you also knew that when it did, the pure feeling alone would be delectable.

“choso— m’gonna, f-fuck! mm’gonna cumm~!” you blubbered out, your eyes starting to pool. with those words, he picked up his pace even more— delving deeper inside of you. just as you were about to let go and give in, adrenaline coursing through your veins, choso objected.

"n-not yet,” he denied. “m’ not done with you yet."

geto suguru—☆

“s’too much, sug’!” you sobbed loudly as geto’s tongue danced around your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

you squirmed and writhed on suguru's face, your hips grinding against his mouth as he expertly teased your clit with his tongue. you couldn't believe how good it felt, how skilled he was at his craft.

"suguru..." you panted, gripping the headboard tightly as yet another wave of pleasure hit you like a semi-truck. "m’sorry, please. i-i didn’t mean it…”

suguru chuckled softly against your sensitive flesh, his expression twisting into a devilish grin. "oh?" he teased, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "didn’t mean what? i can’t quite recall what it was."

he knew exactly what you were implying. yet, he was teasing— because the both of you knew what you said earlier contradicted this current state you were in now.

you bit your lip, feeling a warm blush creep up on your cheeks at the memory of what had come out of your mouth during the heat of the moment. "..‘said that you n-never make me cum," you mumbled sheepishly.

geto paused for a moment before resuming his ministrations with renewed vigor, causing yet another surge of pleasure to ripple through your body. "is that so? hm… i’ve never made you cum?" he asked mockingly, his voice full of amusement. “well she’s tellin’ me otherwise baby.”

he was referring to your cunt. the way “she” squelched as suguru slid his slender fingers in with ease, coated from your own slick mixed with his saliva.

the way he curled those digits inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch and moans escape from between parted lips even as they were pressed against his face.

as his fingers continued to stroke your inner walls, searching for that perfect spot that would send you over the edge, his other hand reached up to play with one of your nipples.

the combination of the two was enough to make your head spin and your body shudder with anticipation. "s-suguru..." you whimpered out between gasps for air. "please... don't stop..."

his only response was a low rumble from deep within his chest—vibrating against your cunt as he swirled his tongue around your clit once again before finally taking it into his mouth completely, plunging two fingers deep inside of you.

a sharp hiss escaped from between your clenched teeth, followed by a subdued cry as suguru circled inside of you. he smirked, watching eagerly as your facial expression twisted lewdly with each nasty ministration. he was such a tease.

it felt as though your very being was on the verge of exploding. every nerve ending screamed for release, begging to be set free from this torment. the tension coiled tightly within you, threatening to snap at any moment and send waves of ecstasy crashing over your body.

you could feel it coming closer now— that inevitable peak where all sensations would converge into one, resulting in a mind-blowing orgasm. your heart raced, pounding against your chest like a drum signaling an approaching storm. sweat trickled down between your breasts and pooled at the small of your back as you arched further into suguru's touch.

but as quick as the pleasure built to a crescendo, it ended just as fast.

geto pulled his mouth away suddenly, grinning up at you from his spot between your legs, eyes sparkling with mischief. "since you said i never make you cum," he teased, his fingers curling inside of you in a way that threatened to push you over the edge yet again.

"i’m sure someone else will be able to help alleviate that little problem of yours." and with those words, he rose from his place underneath your figure. your legs being shaky, unstable, gave out beneath you, making you plop onto the mattress.

as geto sauntered towards the door with a smug smile on his face, he turned back to give one last taunt. “dont worry," he said with an air of false concern. "it shouldn’t be too hard finding someone that makes you cum as hard as i do."

DSIIRESBLOG™ 2024 — comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

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astridthevalkyrie · 3 months ago

Text

“You think people ever look at us and wonder why you would be with me?” Rafayel had frozen in place, his hand mid paint stroke as he gazed down at you from his ladder. You’d been curled up on the couch, watching him comfortably while your thoughts took a depressing turn that was anything but comfortable. “No,” he’d said, “absolutely not. No one in their right mind would think that.”

contains: afab reader, edging, rafayel making reader praise themselves, rafayel speaks in hindi, probably ooc and with grammatical errors sorry i wrote this all in like one hour at 10 PM and i was crying for half of it

it's been a while since my own insecurities have actually given me the creative kick to write something like this, so sucks to be insecure i guess, but yay fic!!!!

Insecurity. What a bitch.

It’s life-ruining, at its worst. It makes you look into the mirror and imagine even the reflection looking back and sneering at what it sees. It makes your heart pound as you walk in public, wondering how many people would smile once they get the privilege of losing sight of you. It makes you sob at night when you’re alone, mind knowing that there is no one in the world who is uniquely terrible, but your heart convinced that you’re the exception.

It makes you say something, accidentally, to your boyfriend.

“You think people ever look at us and wonder why you would be with me?”

Rafayel had frozen in place, his hand mid paint stroke as he gazed down at you from his ladder. You’d been curled up on the couch, watching him comfortably while your thoughts took a depressing turn that was anything but comfortable.

“No,” he’d said, “absolutely not. No one in their right mind would think that.”

If you’d been more acute in the moment, you might have heard the warning in his voice, the irk of a god who has just had his most precious jewel taunted.

But you’d continued instead. “They would. You’re so handsome, so gorgeous. Ethereal. Not to mention incredibly talented. And I love you, and I think we’re really compatible personality wise, but looks…you have to admit you could do a lot better.”

It was then you’d began to note how it felt much hotter in the studio than it had a few minutes ago. Like there was an unseen furnace, prickling with an angry fire about to grow into an inferno.

Rafayel’s voice had been, ironically, icy. “How could I do better than you?”

“C’mon, be real, Raf.” It had been hard to keep the pain out of your words, and impossible to keep the thoughts choking you inside. You’d started to plead, some part of you convinced that it would help if he would simply agree that your every insecurity was valid. “I’m not a supermodel. I’m not a genius. I’m not an angel, either. There’s nothing about me that’s extraordinary. Not like you are.”

And then he’d moved.

And now, you’re still on the couch, crying out brokenly with nothing to grip onto, as his hand holds your wrists above your head, and his cock thrusts in and out of you in the most maddening pace you’ve ever experienced.

He’s never been like this. When you plead, Rafayel gives in. He is weak to you, as he’s shown time and time again. But not today. No matter how much you beg with teary eyes for him to go faster, he shakes his head, slowing down even more. With a punishing growl, he pushes all the way in, and all the way out, leaving your drooling cunt clenching around nothing.

It’s torture. Pure and simple.

“What was it you said?” he breathes harshly, leaning down to press hot kisses on your neck that burn so perfectly you sob. “Ethereal? Talented? A supermodel?”

“Rafayel,” you gasp. He ignores it. His eyes are a violent shade of purple, the most dangerous you’ve ever seen them. There are scales blooming all over his body, as though denying you is the key to awake this dormant side of him, to make you submit.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he whispers, biting and leaving a fresh bruise planted on your skin. “Just tell me what I want to hear. Go on.”

He pulls out and you feel the tears running down your cheeks.

“Say, ‘I’m beautiful.’”

In.

“Say, ‘I’m gorgeous.’”

Out.

“Say, “I’m fucking ethereal.’”

You can taste salt from your own sobs, both from being denied, and from the unimaginable cruelty of having to praise yourself. It’s impossible. You want the reward so bad, but you can’t claw your way to it, because the rules are too imposing. The conditions, blinding.

“Be real,” he taunts, repeating your own words back to you, “come on, start easy. ‘I’m pretty.’ Go on.”

Heaving in a breath, you taste the bitter words on your tongue. “I-I’m pretty.”

Your back arches off the couch as he rewards you with his fingers on your clit, rubbing soft circles while he’s inside you. “Mmhm. You are. And?”

“Please, Rafayel.” You’re clenching so tight around him, and you can see from how he shudders that it pains him just as much as it pains you, this wait, this little game of keep-away. “Please don’t make me—“

You’re cut off by his hand cupping your cheeks, and his lips stealing a salty, breathless kiss. “Meri pyaari gurya,” he groans, kissing you again, “meri chand.” Kiss. “Meri humsafar.” Kiss. “Mine, mine, mine.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. "Do you think I keep anything that isn’t worthy of the Sea God?”

You shut your eyes, crying harder. The logic is loud, but your thoughts are louder. He’s only saying it to reassure you, he’s only saying it to be nice, he’s only saying it because he pities you…

“Meri dulhaniya,” he saves for last, because he knows it’ll break you, “I have nowhere to be. I’m fine staying buried inside you, all day and all night, while your sweet little pussy gushes for me. I’ll bring you to the brink, again and again, but I won’t let you cum, my pretty muse, because either you admit that you’re the most beautiful human in this world, or I’ll fuck it into you till you forget otherwise.”

Trembling, you open your eyes. There is nothing but conviction in his gaze. Conviction, and hunger.

And you realize two very important things. One, that your stamina is nothing compared to his, and you will never hold out against him, and two, that is not something one does out of pity, but out of unyielding, undying adoration.

“I’m,” you swallow, cheeks burning, “beautiful.”

A sharp thrust of his hips makes you moan his name, mouth falling open as he kisses you deeply, and you swear you can feel him hardening even more inside you.

“I’m gorgeous.”

“Yes,” Rafayel hisses, fingers rubbing your clit to match his thrusts.

Eyes rolling back, you cry out, “I-I’m…”

“Fucking ethereal,” he provides, and you think you can feel fire flicking from his lips on your cheeks.

“Fucking ethereal,” you whine, pulling him into a kiss this time.

His hips slam against yours and you cry out against his mouth as his tongue ravages yours. There is nothing Rafayel hates more than someone misunderstanding his art, least of all the art itself.

Your toes curl and your nerves are electrified, everything fading away except you and Rafayel, and his cock and his fingers and his lips, and the couch he’s pounding you into, and you tug at his hair and practically scream as you cum.

He’s still softly licking at your lips as you come down from your high, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. The air escaping you is light, and for the first time in a long time, there is nothing stuck in your chest, a soft fluttery feeling replacing the heaviness that you’ve been carrying what feels like your whole life.

Gazing back up your lover, you cradle his face, noticing that his lovely purple hues have morphed into an even lovelier pink, only a second before you notice he hasn’t cum yet.

“That’s a good start,” Rafayel whispers, capturing your lower lip between his teeth and tugging.

It bounces back into place for him to kiss softly, before he continues, “Now, let’s try ‘most beautiful human in the world.’ If you get there, I might consider letting you have a break.”

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #lads smut #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x mc #rafayel #valkyrie stories

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becca-e-barnes · 1 year ago

Note

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

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heeseungsbm · 7 months ago

Text

・₊✧ Kiss Me Thru The Phone‧₊˚☏♡₊˚

lee heeseung

₊˚⊹❥pairing❥: idol ! heeseung x female reader

₊୧ ‧₊❥summary❥: the hardest part of heeseung's job was being separated from you; it drove him physically insane. he was determined to find a way to satisfy his insatiable cravings—his intense desire for you, one way or the other.

❥ genre: smut with plot, fluffy ending :)

⊹₊ ⋆❥warnings❥: sexting, heeseung is very horny, phone sex, masturbation (male & female), dirty talk, edging, fingering (female), orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, nicknames (baby, good girl).

❥ heeseung’s dialogue is in pink.

:‧₊˚ ⋅❥wc❥: 7k.

thank God, the fate tour and its excessive, completely unnecessary extensions had finally come to an end. there wasn't enough of a word to describe how relieved heeseung felt to be done.

don't get him wrong, heeseung loved being an idol. he loved the rush of adrenaline he got from performing in sold out shows, and having hundreds of thousands of beautiful girls losing their composure over him was quite the ego boost.

but tour? uh uh. not heeseung's thing.

while it was an amazing experience in many ways, it had its dreadful downsides; the lack of sleep, the pounding headaches from jet lag, the body sores and bruises from practicing for hours and hours on end, leaving him with literally no energy for anything else. privacy was practically nonexistent, it'd become a distant memory. heeseung literally had no space to himself. everything was a group activity.

however, not seeing you for months was the worst, most agonizing part of it all. who would want to be away from their girlfriend for nearly half the year, and then the longest time they'd get to be with her was 2 weeks? sure you guys made it work, but that didn't make it any less torturous.

at the end of the day, when the arenas went empty and the stage lights grew dark, heeseung was a male with hormones. a man who got horny, just like any other. nothing could fulfill his desires the way you did, he absolutely hated not being able to have sex for long periods of time.

of course there were quick and easy alternatives he could've ran to, but unlike his members who had numerous one night stands and groups of girls signing NDAs to give them a good time in their hotel rooms, heeseung didn't care to fuck anyone who wasn't you. sex to him was intimate, an expression of his passion and devotion that he only took pleasure sharing with one person.

one person he was deeply in love with, which is you.

it was hell on earth having to bust a painfully quiet nut while his members slept in the same room as him, or having to sneak away and jerk off in the bathrooms. even in heeseung's sleep, his filth lived in his fantasies past his eyelids, it's all he could dream about.

sex, sex, and more sex.

every part of you—your lips, your voice, your scent, your body, your touch. it was like a drug to him, and your absence gave him the most excruciating withdrawal. he couldn't wait for the tour to end so he could finally be with you, even if it was just for a little.

he was sick and tired of cumming in his palm.

backstage, heeseung sat criss-cross applesauce on a chair, fidgeting anxiously and taking deep breaths to try to calm himself down. enhypen had just finished their last show in japan which he was more happy about, but the whole day thoughts of you ate at his brain like acid. his erection would not go down for the life of it, no matter how hard he tried.

he did push ups, played mobile games to try and distract himself, but nothing was working. he was so fucking horny that he couldn't think straight, and his body language spoke louder than words.

the more he fed the thought, the more he realized there was one thing he could do. heeseung kept an entire folder in his phone, loaded with your explicit photos & videos for when he desperately needed to get off. you are the only thing that made him incredibly hard, and the only thing that led him to actually finish. he had no interest in porn, it needed to be to you.

he was helpless and desperate, discreetly covering the unsettling sensitivity in his lap. his heart raced rapidly and he felt like all eyes were on him, focusing on the hardening feeling that he longed to ease. after what felt like hours of contemplation, he decided to surrender to it and text you, knowing you were the only person who could fix this.

maybe he could get something new from you to use, and hopefully find a place to use it.

hello lovebug

he texted you, the ding of your phone striking you confused as you applied soap onto your back. you rinsed off your hand and reached out of the shower curtain for your phone to see who it was.

no other than your boyfriend, of course.

oh hey, you're done for the day?

heeseung sat eagerly waiting for your response, his eyes glued to the screen. when your message came through quickly, he let out a sigh of relief, happy that the wait wasn't long.

thank fucking goodness i am😂

are you busy rn tho baby?

the bubbles indicating typing appeared, and after a few seconds your messages sent.

😂hope it went well

and kind of, in the shower

a sly smile spread across heeseung's face, flashbacks of your naked body gleaming with water running through his mind from when you last showered together.

oh wow

can you do me a favor?

his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he waited in anticipation.

sure what's up

you didn't even have a chance to place your phone back down before you heard another ding, he was replying unusually fast.

can you make me a video while you're in there?

your eyes widened at his text, a mix of surprise and intrigue coming over you at his request.

omg

ok, but what kind? lol

heeseung chewed his inner cheek at your question, thinking of what to say back. he knew exactly what he wanted to see, he just didn't want to come across as... obnoxious.

anything baby

just something to cum to, if that's okay with you?

typical heeseung, always asking for nudes. you didn't mind giving him what he wanted though, it gave you a sense of empowerment and validation to be able to fulfill his need for you with just the simple sight of your body.

you grabbed some more shower gel and squeezed a generous amount of the fruity substance onto your chest, rubbing the suds to create a lather. you posed as you took selfies with your tits in the frame, recording a couple clips for him seductively massaging your bubbly boobs, showing different angles to flaunt your soapy body. after picking the best ones, you pressed send and resumed your shower.

Attatchments: 5 Images, 2 Videos

enjoyyyyy😘😘😘

heeseung felt his phone buzz twice on his thigh as he impatiently shook it on the chair, sending a wave of butterflies straight to his tummy. he scanned his surroundings, and thankfully everyone was busy having their own conversations and doing their own things. but just to surely make sure nobody was looking, he covered the side of his phone screen with his hand as he opened your messages.

damn.

his face lit up at how much you'd spoiled him, gawking at your pretty face complimented by your wet hair, and your plump boobs covered in bubbles. he looked like a dumb dog, his eyes stuck and his lips parted, almost drooling as he watched how your hand fondled your tits.

you're so sexy

i wish i could fuck you right now

he could feel his face getting hot, his palms growing warm and sweaty. his dick pulsed in his pants, he needed to find somewhere to be alone, and soon. otherwise, he was going to cum in his pants.

"hyung, are you okay?" jake asked as he came up from behind, noticing the red flushing of his friend's cheeks and the jittering of his thigh.

heeseung flinched dramatically, nearly dropping his phone on the ground in the process. he quickly shut his phone off and placed it face down on the table, hoping to God that jake hadn't been standing there for long,

"you seem extra tense today," he teased, placing a hand on his elder's shoulder. "your cheeks are as red as a tomato."

"do not fucking touch me," heeseung hissed, removing jake's hand off his shoulder. he released the tension in his body by cracking his neck on both sides, then his knuckles one by one.

"sheesh. somebody needs their dick sucked.." jake joked, bursting into laughter at heeseung's uptight behavior.

well, he wasn't wrong. that's exactly what heeseung needed, actually.

"oh yeah, you wouldn't believe what happened to me earlier," jake exclaimed, his voice full of enthusiasm. "these two girls were hanging out in the lobby, and they would not leave me alone! until i let them give me a 2 for 1 special, if you know what i mean," he elbowed heeseung, a playful grin on his face. "never came so fast in my life. one was twisting with her hand, while the other was sucki—"

"will you shhhhh!" heeseung silenced jake, placing his hand over his mouth. he wanted to gag, he was disgusted by the thought of rotating between multiple girls for pleasure. "im on the phone with my mom, you freak," he quickly came up with a lie, removing his hand from jake's mouth. "do you know somewhere i could take the call, privately?"

jake chuckled, because obviously he wasn't a fucking dumbass. heeseung was the freak here.

"there should be an empty dressing room a few doors down from here. it's down the hall, the third silver door on the left," he said, pointing in the direction of the exit. "hope you and mom have fun," jake shot a wink, before scurrying off to continue flirting with backup dancers.

gosh, what a freak.

heeseung sighed in relief once jake left, thankful that his lie cut the conversation short. it was suffocating having to interact with anyone when thoughts of you would corrupt his mind, especially with someone as oversharing as jake. he got up from his chair and made his way out of the backstage area, squeezing between cameramen and staff, reciting the directions jake gave him in his head.

back at home, you finally finished your shower and skincare, moisturizing your body with butters to seal your routine. you threw on some pink lace panties and a soft silk robe heeseung bought you not too long ago and you entered the room you and heeseung shared, lighting a few vanilla-scented candles, casting a warm glow across the room and adding a gentle fragrance to the air. with the lights dimmed, you yawned in fatigue as you made your way to your queen-sized bed, diving into its cozy embrace.

even with the room clean and your body refreshed from your shower, you couldn't shake the emptiness you felt without heeseung's presence. you missed the nights he would come to bed and shower your neck with kisses, how he'd hug you tight from behind until you fell asleep. your eyes fixated on his empty side of the bed, a pang of loneliness striking your chest. you moved closer to his pillows and clutched them tightly, as if they could somehow fill the void he left behind.

meanwhile, halfway across the globe, heeseung stood outside what he believed to be the place jake recommended. he frowned as he examined the blank door in front of him, how weird that it had no label, and not even a handle. but it was in fact, the only 'third silver door on the left'. with uncertainty he pushed it open, quietly creeping in and letting it close behind him.

empty dressing room? way to lie to a lie, jake.

heeseung stumbled through the crowded darkness, blindly swatting away at hangers of clothes as they grazed his face. he hugged his body with his sleeveless arms as the AC blasted painfully cold air, and to make his matters worse, there was no light switch. well, at least to his knowledge after feeling around for one. this was clearly not a dressing room, more like an ... abandoned closet.

with the help of his phone's flashlight, heeseung managed to make his way to the very back, the area thankfully warmer behind a rack of performance costumes. he could not believe he'd sunken this low; going all this way to masturbate in such an ominous room like this. but at the same time, anything would be better than walking around with the sexual urge that plagued him all day.

he resigned himself to sitting on the floor, sighing as he sank against the wall. he unlocked his phone and went to your messages, his thumb hovering over the screen as he checked to see if you replied to any of his previous texts.

he scoffed in a bummer, no text back.

heeseung's mind started to race with possible explanations; maybe you were just asleep. or maybe you were flat out ignoring him, he couldn't help but wonder if he had gone too far with his request for nudes. but his desire for you consumed him, heeseung ached to hear your voice and feel closer to you, even if it meant connecting purely through the phone.

to tell the truth, he'd been fantasizing about having phone sex with you for as long as he could remember. he always craved the idea; how good it would feel to listen to you touch yourself while he did the same, how pretty you'd moan for him, how it wouldn't take long to make each other cum. he thought it was the least you two could do with the distance, he just never knew how to ask.

the need coursing through his body was intense, the only chance he'd have to make his fantasy a reality was now, alone in this closet. who knew how it was ever going to go, but it was worth a try. he began texting you again, in hopes of fast replies like before.

you were lying in bed on twitter, how coincidental that you were searching for a new fancam of heeseung, unaware that you had him on delivered. his flurry of new notifications put an end to your scrolling, literally making you freeze in place.

hey

are you still up baby?

please call me if you are

your heart began to pound out of your chest, your pupils dilating at the words "call me". it'd been roughly a month since you were able to, due to heeseung's hectic schedule and all the time zone differences. at least at the start of his career you two were able to text and facetime throughout the day, he even fell asleep on the phone with you every night. but now that enhypen's popularity was increasing rapidly, you and heeseung barely had any time to talk consistently.

like, ever.

after multiple sets of deep breaths and practicing how cutely you'd speak, you clicked his contact and looked away as you pressed call. you couldn't bear to look at the screen as the phone rang for what felt like eternity, your stomach cartwheeling as you waited for him to answer.

heeseung sat in the dark, his phone serving as his only source of light as he looked through his collection of you, trying to find whatever would help him get off the best. suddenly, his screen flashed and he squinted as it abruptly brightened up his face, following his loud ringtone.

shit, it was you.

with no hesitation, heeseung swiftly swiped the green button to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. he cleared his throat as the call began, with the biggest smile on his face.

"hey, baby," heeseung greeted you.

that sweet word, baby. it was like a warm hug and a loving kiss intertwined into one, it made your insides melt every time. "hello mr. celebrity," you playfully said back into the phone, curled up on his side of the bed. "what are you up to?"

heeseung laughed at your playfulness, your honeyed voice immediately sedating him. he'd missed it terribly. "nothing much, i've just been thinking about you. nothing new, right?"

he sounded so gentle and velvety, making you more shy than usual. to be fair that's how heeseung always made you feel, everything with him gave you first time nerves. "i've been thinking about you too, babe," you confessed.

"how are you feeling?" he asked you, his speech smooth. "it's late over there, isn't it? did you eat dinner yet?"

you sighed. "well i guess i'm okay, you know. just waiting for you to come home." you couldn't help your uncontrollable smile, you felt like a middle school girl on the phone with her crush. "and i had a chicken cesar salad for dinner, with a strawberry-banana smoothie."

"ahh. that's good baby, sounds yummy. we had really good catering today, i thought you would've liked it," heeseung happily shared with a smile. no matter where he was, there was always something that made him think of you, in some way shape or form. "i really wish you could've been here with me, y/n. all i am without you is stressed."

you pouted, also sad that you had to stay home. the plan was for you to come along with him, but the company didn't want to risk heeseung's personal life getting leaked to the public. you spoke back, "well, i'd imagine all the dancing you do helps relieve some of that stress? no?"

heeseung rotated his neck that was sore from performing, placing his hand on the nape of it. "well yes, but no... not enough." you could hear the distress in his voice as it rasped. "honestly, i'm feeling a bit crazy right now."

dear God above please forgive me, you mentally implored as arousal began coiling within you. and how terrible, heeseung was simply just expressing himself. but damn did he sound good, his voice was deliciously hoarse. something about him sounded so captivatingly different, you just couldn't put your finger on it. whatever it was, you can't lie.. it had you squeezing your thighs together.

you spaced out as he kept talking, staring at the spinning ceiling fan above you. the line soon went silent thanks to your trance, causing heeseung to worry. "um, y/n... h–hello?"

"oh! im sorry," you quickly apologized, coming back to reality. you took your phone off your ear and put him on speaker mode, sitting more upright against the headboard of your bed. "im here, babe. you just... you sound really good."

heeseung smiled to himself, taking great pride in your compliment. "you like how i sound, huh?"

"mhm," you hum in agreement. "i missed your voice."

"i miss you, just.. everything about you." he sounded low and sultry, sending a chill down your spine. "i really wish i could touch you right now."

the corners of your lips curved into a smile at the thought of heeseung's perfect hands, how big they were compared to everything on your body. you missed his touch so badly. "i miss you so much more," you replied, filled with longing. "wish you could touch me too."

those words were just what heeseung wanted to hear, and he was trying so hard to not unzip his jeans and jerk off while you talked. he desperately wanted to tell you how hard you were making him, how bad he wanted to cum, how bad he wanted to listen to you fuck your fingers on the line. but he knew that needed to ease into it gradually, like a gentleman.

heeseung moved his hand underneath his sleeveless top to smooth it over his lower stomach, trying to relax. "you're in bed, right? what are you wearing?" he asked, hoping it was little to nothing.

it caught you off guard, wondering what he could possibly do with that information. "yeah, oh, uhhh... one of the robes you sent me for my birthday," you tell him, your fingers idly playing with the string of your robe.

"oh," he raised a brow, picturing your bare body in the silk. "so, nothing else? just the robe, baby?"

"well, if you're not counting underwear, then i guess.." you nonchalantly replied, looking at your nails.

"mmm, i really like that." heeseung bit his lip, thinking of all the pretty undergarments you'd wear to bed. the lace, cheeky underwear that you'd wear turned him on so much, he always insisted you kept them on while he fucked you. "they're pink, aren't they? your panties, i mean."

"mhmm, they are," you responded with a big smile, as he was surprisingly right. "wow, you know me so well."

"i do, don't i," he smirked. but his cocky smile deliberately faded as he remembered where he was, and how he didn't have much time. he had to get this whole thing over with before someone went looking for him, and found him. "i need to tell you something, baby. it's been on my mind for a while."

"oh, um..." the suspenseful tone in his words scared you. it felt dramatic, like he was about to break up with you or something. "well go on, please."

"well, there's really no other way to say this, so." heeseung began, his voice deepening lower than before. "i really miss having sex with you, y/n." he continued, little more confidence in his voice, "since we won't be able to see each other for a while, i was wondering if you'd be interested in trying something."

phew. why the hell was that so hard? he felt like a bulldozer had been lifted off his body.

the way heeseung spoke was rich and penetrating, his voice sending a pulsing feeling to your core, making you clench around nothing. "oh i—i miss it too," you agreed shyly, nearly spacing out again. your mind was flooding with the filthiest flashbacks of those unforgettable, sinful nights of that only the two of you knew about. "what did you want to try?" you asked him with a curious tilt of your head.

heeseung took a deep breath, hoping you'd welcome his proposal. "phone sex," he cleared his throat. "... what do you think of the idea?"

fuck he sounded so hot, goodness gracious. God help you again.

you didn't expect heeseung to ask you something like that, considering the fact that he'd never done anything like that in front of you before. yes, you guys had sex, and he clearly used his hand when he needed to. but you'd never self pleasured together before.

finally, you managed to find your voice after a long pause, your words coming out in a soft, shaky tone. "you... you want to try having it?" you asked, your fingers tracing the contour of your thigh to ease your nerves.

"i do, but what about you, baby? would you like to?" heeseung waited patiently, praying in his mind that you'd say yes. the denim of his jeans brutally outlined the shape of his cock, it was begging to be freed from his boxers.

"to be honest, im not sure how well i can do it," you vulnerably admitted. "it might not be as good as you're hoping for."

but the throbbing between your legs grew stronger as you considered his offer, your mind racing with indecision. heeseung clearly really wanted to try, and it couldn't hurt to experiment a little. you took a deep breath, the thought of pleasuring him outweighing your uncertainty. "since it's for you, we can try."

heeseung was beyond thrilled that you agreed, more than happy. but he knew you more than anyone, and he felt concern at the slight hesitation he could sense. he wanted to make sure you truly felt comfortable, it was important to him for both of you to enjoy it.

"don't feel nervous, i'll be here to guide you through it. you can trust me, okay?" he gently assured you, soft but somehow authoritative. "if at any point you don't like it just tell me, and we can stop."

you smiled at heeseung's reassurance, the nervousness immediately leaving your body at his consideration. "you're so sweet. don't worry, i want to. i trust you," you assured him. "we can start now, if that's what you wanted."

heeseung let out a sigh of relief, feeling calm after hearing your affirmation. "great," he replied, the corners of his lips curling slightly. "give me one second."

he unzipped his tight-fitting jeans, feeling a sense of freedom at finally being able to relax. he reached for his aching cock out of his Calvin Klein boxers, groaning as it sprung straight up and slapped his stomach. his precum spilled from his pink, cut tip, he gulped down a thick swallow of air as he spread the leakage across the head with his thumb. "are you comfortable?"

"mhmm," you hummed, pulling the covers over your lower body, seeking warmth and privacy even though there was no one to hide from.

"close your eyes for me baby, i want you to imagine me there from now on. just trust me, it'll feel better with them closed." heeseung wrestled the impulse to jerk his impressive length that stood proud in his lap, but he wanted to get you going first. "are they closed yet?" he asked you, closing his own.

you closed your eyes, the darkness making his voice seem even more seductive. "mhm, they're closed."

heeseung's breath hitched slightly at the sound of your compliance. "good, baby. i want you to focus on my voice, nothing else matters. okay?"

"okay," you tell him, your heart racing faster now, the intimacy of the moment heightened by your inability to see.

"touch your body for me," heeseung muttered huskily, authority in his voice. "you know where to touch first, right baby?"

"mhm, i think so." you gasped as you slipped your hands inside the silky fabric of your robe, your fingers trailing gently along the sensitive skin of your neck before moving to run along your collarbones, then downwards to gently caress your bare chest.

"where are you touching, love?" he sweetly asked.

"my tits," you responded, massaging your tender breasts and playing with your hardened nipples between your fingers.

"mmm, good girl. spread your legs for me," he lowly instructed, spitting a long glob of saliva onto his cock and smoothing it around the length as he felt it drip down, giving the shaft a firm hold with his fist. "move your hand to where you want me to touch you, baby."

your body responded to his commands like a puppet on a string, unable to resist his allure. you were on your back, slightly propped up by pillows as you opened your legs, wandering your hand down to land between your thighs. "okay, i did," you quietly replied.

"you want to touch it so bad, don't you baby?" heeseung taunted you, his teasing revealing your own longing to touch your sensitive flesh through the fabric. "wanna play with your pussy so bad for me."

"yes please," you begged him. "please let me."

"you can baby, you can touch for me." heeseung granted you permission, and he could already hear a change in your breathing, it became shaky within seconds.

you rubbed your covered pussy, pressing down right where your clit was swelling. your folds left a big puddle on the thin material, your underwear entirely soaked, absorbing all of your arousal. "heeseung," you softly moaned his name as you groped your wetness, "my panties, they're ruined."

heeseung threw his head back against the wall, the thought of your pussy being so wet that it seeped through your panties made his cock grow painfully harder, harder than it already was. it pulsed violently, throbbing as it cried to be stroked up and down. "you wanna be a good girl and touch your pussy for me?" he asked, his voice deep and saturated with his need to touch himself.

your voice cracked as you answered, "yes, want to touch so bad."

heeseung could cum off of how sweet and submissive you sounded right now alone. "go ahead and touch baby, tell me what you feel."

you slid your fingers underneath the damp fabric and massaged the surface of your folds, your stickiness glazing your fingertips. "im wet, i'm really wet."

"that's perfect, baby." his tongue darted out to wet his lips, visualizing running the head of his cock between the wet lips of your pussy. "touch your clit and play with it."

your body twitched as you began to toy at your sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing yourself like heeseung would with his perfect fingers. you took deep, trembling breaths against the mic of your phone, turning heeseung on so much on the other side.

he let out a sharp moan as he finally glided his hand up and down his wet dick, applying immense pressure to his sensitive tip. he didn't need lube, his precum and saliva were just enough. "can you hear it, baby? stroking my cock for you, just for you." he grunted, lowering his phone and bringing the mic near his hands, allowing you to hear every wet, sloppy sound of the friction.

you whined, rubbing delicate circles on your clit as you listened to the slipperiness of his cock. "shhh...it. f-fuck," your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip, in slight shame of cursing.

heeseung's fist rhythmically twisted around his cock, his chest rising and falling heavily with each lubricious stroke. his thigh muscles spasmed at the heavenly, warm sensation from his hand, his toes tingling in his shoes. it felt so fucking good to finally be able to jerk off. but still, nothing compared to how you felt. "put your fingers in your fucking pussy." he demanded it of you, more than ready to hear it.

with your imagination fixated on the thought of heeseung's cock in place of your fingers, you carefully teased your tight entrance, sticky and slick from how bad you wished he was home to fuck you. you hissed as you pushed one in, then another, deeply past your tight walls.

your soft moans let him know that your fingers were inside of you, and heeseung smiled to himself at your obedience. "i need you to talk to me, baby. does it feel good? feel good to finger your pussy for me?"

"feels s-so good," you trembled, spreading your legs further apart as you gradually slid your fingers in and out of your hole. your mouth hung open at the immense pleasure, it was blissful to finally have something penetrating you after so long—you hadn't touched yourself since he left for tour.

heeseung routinely licked his lips as he steadily stroked his cock, your whines and whimpers into the phone bringing him a different type of contentment. he wanted to hear more, he wanted to feel like he was there making you feel good. "moan for me some more, baby."

just the sound of his voice alone guiding you was stimulating, it was hypnotizing. you were completely under his spell, and in your current state, there was nothing you wouldn't do if he asked. you pumped your 2 fingers deeper, moving them in and out of your tightness with care as you let yourself get louder. "miss you, miss the way you fuck me," you whined, trying your best to sound as pornographic for him as possible. "im ... so tight," you squealed, searching and exploring for that sweet spot that he always reached.

"yeah?" heeseung jerked himself off with a more firm grip around his girth, attempting to mimic the tightness of your wet cunt. "tell me, tell me how tight you are for me."

"im so wet, and tight for you," you shakily moaned into the mic as you fingered your pussy, the squelching driving him crazy. "just for you, hee." you switched back and forth between fingering yourself and massaging your tits for more simulation, taking your fingers and spreading the wetness on your nipples, then fucking them back into your pussy.

"such a good girl. keep playing with your pussy for me baby, just like that." heeseung praised you as his adam's apple moved up and down in his throat, breathlessly talking you through your pleasure.

he took his lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it, his breathing growing increasingly heavier. his right hand weakly held his phone against his ear to hear you whilst he thrusted his hips upwards, fueling his desperate grinding into his left hand. he was still a little paranoid about someone coming in and busting him for doing something so immoral, so nasty, but he wanted to vocally please you the best he could. so, he didn't back any sound that came from his throat.

you could hear the ruffling of heeseung fucking up into his hand, it was so intense that you could've sworn you started to feel it. the vulgar profanity that left his lips made your pussy so wet and slick, you completely melted into the mattress at the sound of his filth against your ear.

you couldn't believe how quickly the phone call had changed within a matter of just 7 minutes, here you were playing your pussy on the phone while heeseung moaned like his life depended on it.

you physically couldn't stop, and neither could he on the other side. heeseung relished his salacious fantasy, his mind entirely fogged with lust for you. he never wanted it to end, because you sounded so good. it made his cock so fucking hard, how he was the only one who got to hear you this way; so cute, whiney and breathless, so desperate for him without his touch.

"oh my g—fuck me," you moaned, pumping your fingers faster into yourself. "you're gonna make me cum," you quivered as you pleaded for him, cream dripping from your hole and wetting your sheets.

heeseung let another warm pool of drool fall from his mouth onto his dick, reminiscing how moist and warm you felt in his head, his wet hand picking up the pace. he could feel it in his stomach; he was going to explode if he kept stroking himself at this speed. as torturous as it felt, he slowed down his hand's movements, choking on air as he occasionally let go of his cock to edge it and reserve the buildup.

you tortured your clit with the tips of your creamy fingers, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming that a tear rolled down your cheek. "hee, i-i'm gonna cum," you faintly whimpered, your clit starting to feel too sensitive to touch.

"cumming already, baby?" he let out a stifled moan, his primal desire for you to cum surging. "good girl, cum all over your fingers."

you'd never heard heeseung be this vocal, but you completely submerged in it, loving how careless and expressive he was being. it was a side of him you hadn't known before, and you couldn't get enough.

he mumbled profanity under his jagged breaths and begged you to cum for him, his fist fucking his hand with more force to the thought of being inside you. he could hear the speed of your fingers getting faster and faster, and all that mattered to him was that you were close to cumming—because he damn sure was.

heeseung panted, gripping himself tighter and stroking faster, so fast that his hand began to cramp. he furrowed his brows and his mouth fell wide, his nose scrunching as he felt his sweet release seconds away. "oh fuck... fuck y/n, i'm gonna cum, fuck! im—" his orgasm took over his entire body, spurts of his hot semen oozing out of his tip and dripping down his length, making a thick white mess all over his hand. he moaned in ecstasy as his cock relentlessly leaked, his abs clenching as his seed spilled onto his jeans.

it was disgusting.

you mouth salivated at the obscene sounds of heeseung reaching his peak of ecstasy, and it wasn't long before your own body succumbed to its own waves of pleasure, cumming with him at the same time. you shrieked as you uncontrollably squirted all over the bedsheets, leaving heeseung's side drenched with the liquids from your body. your legs shook violently and you could barely catch your breath, lost in the overtaking overstimulation.

heeseung was far from done, he absentmindedly pumped his cock in a slower, teasing rhythm, milking out his remaining ropes of cum to the sweet sounds of your climax. there was so much, it just kept coming and coming, and coming.

you knees so fell weak that you lost feeling in them. you gasped as you opened your eyes after seeing stars for so long, moaning with heeseung in unison as you both came down from your highs. you slowly removed your fingers out of your pussy, a string of milky wetness following as you brought them into your mouth, tasting the sinful mess you made.

"i j-just changed these sh-sheets," you stuttered as you caught your breath, still shaken from your orgasm. "i made such a mess."

heeseung also was still recovering from his intense release, his breathing heavy and rapid. he let out a long, satisfied sigh, his body relaxing and his cock falling soft as he basked in the afterglow of cumming so much. "let me see the mess you made, baby," he pleaded to see it, desperate for visual proof. "show me."

"you are so freaky," you jokingly snickered, a rasp in your voice from all of the high pitched moans that escaped your mouth. you snapped a picture of the icky mess of cum between your legs and sent it to him, closing and tying your robe back up after.

heeseung's jaw clenched as he opened the photo, his doe eyes round with awe. "woah... that's so hot." he couldn't help but run his tongue over his lips at your downward pov, the sight of the white, creamy essence on your pretty pussy making his cock twitch, despite it falling back tender. his mind raced with thoughts of you and what the two of you had just done together. "i really missed hearing you like that, you're so cute."

"oh stop," you blushed, your heart swelling with affection for him. it was reassuring to hear that he enjoyed how you sounded, you felt a bit better about your performance. "it wouldn't have been possible without you, though."

heeseung chuckled softly, a cocky grin gracing his features. hearing that from you gave him an ego boost. "it felt good, didn't it baby?" he asked, hoping you enjoyed it as much as he did. though he knew you did, there was no way you faked those noises.

"mhm, it felt really good, thanks to you." you nodded with a smile, reminiscing about it already. "i'm glad i tried something new with you."

he grabbed his softened cock that was still hot and sticky, putting it back into his boxers and zipping his jeans back up. "im glad i could help you, thank you for helping me." he mellowly replied, playing with the goopy aftermath of his own release between his fingers. "there's so much i want to do to you, baby. when i get back we'll make up for lost time, yeah?"

"yeah," you softly tell him, getting aroused all over again. you put your finger between your lips, gently nippling on it with your front teeth. a shiver ran down your spine, knowing full well how things tended to get when there was a gap of time in between seeing each other. you didn't know how much longer you could wait. you needed heeseung, you needed the real thing, your fingers could only go so far.

"okay, i have to go now. it's time for you to get some sleep anyways," heeseung said gently as he stood up from the closet floor, shivering from the pins and needles sensation in his legs from his seated climax. "i'll give you a call tomorrow. alright?"

you couldn't help but feel sad that he had to go, you wished he could stay on the phone forever. "okay," you doubtfully sighed, "i hope you know that i don't believe you."

heeseung chuckled into the phone, shaking his head at your insistence. "why? i will call you, you'll see."

you weren't completely reassured, your doubts still lingering. "you promise?"

heeseung's voice softened, his tone earnest. "i promise, baby."

"pinky promise?" you ask him, your voice getting sweeter.

"pinky, pinky, promise." he echoed into the speaker, making you giggle. "double pinky promise. now do you believe me?"

"you pinky promised, so i'll be waiting on it," you smiled, satisfied with his assurance. "goodnight, heeseung."

heeseung's heart wrenched at your words of goodbye. he missed you already, and he too didn't want to go, but he knew had to get back to where he was supposed to be. "goodnight baby, i love you."

"aww. i love you too bubbabear," you say back. "so much."

"but not more than i love you," heeseung's voice turned childish, "never ever."

you got out of bed, still damp between your legs, and the sheets beneath you soaking with your evidence of pleasure. "okay, you can hang up now."

"no, you hang up."

"no you hang up," you spat back.

"no, im not hanging up," heeseung argued with playful defiance, "so you can go ahead, hang up."

"whatever," you rolled your eyes, "just hang up."

"no, you."

heeseung laughed, he knew you'd go back and forth forever if you had the chance. "fine, i'll hang up. but only because i love you."

"oh but that sounds... manipulative?" you replied with sarcasm, "i love you too, by the way."

"sweet dreams," he wished you, before blowing a kiss into the mic. "give me a kiss back, baby," he cutely asked, waiting for you to reciprocate it. "kiss me through the phone."

"gosh, you are so corny," you complained, knowing you'll do it anyway. "wait! let's do it at the same time," you suggest.

"even better," heeseung agreed, full of excitement. "on three."

you counted to three together, both of you bringing your lips to the phone and kissing it, making a long mwah sound.

"aww, i love you," you gush at him one last time.

"you're so cute. i love you more," heeseung sweetly replied, before cutting the line.

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

♡ྀི hello my beautiful followers, its literally been a year since my last post, i'm terrified😅i feel like i lost my writer's spark but if this does well, i have plenty of filth in my drafts waiting to be posted!😟

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d-emeter · 6 days ago

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Breakfast, lunch and dinner (or: cod characters and how they eat you out) — plus-size!fem!reader x cod characters

Includes: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, König, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria

Note: take this as my formal apology for being inactive for so long :') exam week had me hanging on by a thread and i'm also suddenly moving so. yay. expect some more action after like... this week i hope

John Price

Listen. Getting eaten out by Captain Price is not, in any way, meant for your pleasure. No, this is him disciplining you. It hardly even matters what for. Maybe you have been teasing him, sliding your hand up his thigh under the table, rubbing your ass against him while passing by him. Maybe you've been a brat all day, complaining and huffing and puffing about everything, barely listening to any of John's requests and/or demands. Either way, sit on his desk and spread your fucking legs, doll. He'll be edging you for what feels like hours, tongue moving so torturously slow that all coherent thought has seeped from your brain aside from how badly you want to cum. Too bad, bad girls don't deserve to finish this easily.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

With Simon, it's always a surprise what position you'll end up in. The only certainty you have is that it's definitely not what you'd expect, and sometimes you wish that for once he'd just lay you down and get busy. But alas, he'll have you kneeling with your face in the pillows, or bent over the back of the couch. Maybe he'll have you hanging off the edge of the bed so all the blood flows to your already overheating brain. You're clinging onto whatever you can get a hold on, mostly in pleasure, and sometimes in fear of falling when he has you up on his shoulders and leaned against the wall. Well, he doesn't exactly hear your complaining over your moans and whimpers, he argues, and he wouldn't dream of dropping you.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

As with Price, this has little to do with your pleasure: it's all for his own benefit. Please, lass, he loves your cunt, and she loves him, doesn't she? Come on, let him have a taste. He could give two shits about where you are or how convenient it is— if he wants to lick your pussy, he's going to. He's down on his knees while you're desperately clinging onto the kitchen counter, or the shower wall, or the shelves of your pantry. Hell, you'd have to hope and pray a sales associate won't come by your changing room in fear of them hearing all of his moans. Oh, and you quickly find out you cannot wear a skirt around him, because it won't come down from your hips if he has any say in it.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He's devastatingly methodical. He knows your body better than you do at this point, and he's not afraid to use this to his advantage. He can work you just right, but the worst part is that he will refuse to. Unless you kindly ask him for it, that is. Tsk, pretty girl, use your words. Let him know where you need him, what you need him to do. He's hovering close enough that you can feel his breath on your neglected clit, your cunt clenching around nothing in desperate search for friction of any kind, but he won't do anything until you tell him in excruciating detail what you want. And be aware, any time you stop talking, he's pulling away in a second.

König

Oh, König... Sweet, wet-rag-of-a-man loser that he is, will completely lose his mind any time you allow him near your pussy. He can practically feel his brain melting while he's drowning himself in your slick, and he looks like it too. His eyes have rolled back, face flushed and his eyebrows scrunched in pure, unadulterated pleasure. His body has turned to complete mush, his cock leaking against the sheets and hands clawing onto any part of your body he can reach (which, with his arms, is basically everywhere). Unintelligible mumbles made into your cunt, teetering the edge between praise and begging. He is a little inexperienced, Schatz, so you'll have to show him how you like it. Shove his face between your folds and ride his nose, and you'll have him moaning like a bitch in heat. When he finally comes back up for air you can tell you're not the only one that reached heaven just now.

Philip Graves

I'm going to speak my truth here, he does not strike me as the kind of man to give you oral all that much. I am SORRY, but it's true. He usually prefers to get you nice and ready for him with his fingers, or by having you ride his thigh, or simply from the absolute filth he spews into your ear while dry-humping. However, on the odd occasion that Phil does get down and dirty, he aims to make it special. It's strangely sentimental, actually. It'd be outside on a picnic blanket after his homecoming, or in your shared bed after your anniversary dinner. Anything that reminds him how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him, and he's going to show you with his tongue. There's reverence in every suck, praise in every lick and prayer in every word he murmers into your core. You're his goddess and he's just here to worship you, baby.

Alejandro Vargas

For Ale, it'd be a form of gratuity much in the same way it is for Graves, though the difference is that he'll use that as an excuse even for the most menial things. His belly nice and full after your homecooked dinner, grin on his face and asking when his dessert is being served. You've been so good to him, amor, welcoming him home with a smile and a kiss and a plate waiting for him, now let him thank you properly. You fixed the button on his shirt that had fallen off? Well, put it on and lay yourself down, time to lap at your cunt in thanks. It's gotten to a point where you're convinced he just decided his goal in life is to pull as many orgasms from you as possible. Not that you're complaining, of course.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parras

Eating you out is, in many ways, a means to an end for Rudy. He wants to make sure you're properly prepped and ready to take his cock, so it's almost instinctual for him to bury his face between your soft thighs for a while before inching himself into you. It's part of the routine, the way he thought sex was supposed to go. It's not until you explain to him that it can actually be the main event, and that you'd thoroughly enjoy it if he maybe put in a little more effort, that it dawns on him just how much he can actually do down there and how much time he's wasted not doing it. Now, tesoro, you may have shot yourself in the foot with that one, because he now can keep you pinned down for hours, just suckling away at your clit and fucking you on his tongue, dumb grin on his face after your fifth orgasm renders you basically comatose.

Valeria Garza

The only way Valeria will actually relax for once is with your pussy in her face. Seriously, you've tried everything else: lavender baths, deep tissue massages, even trying to get her to meditate. But no, the only time you actually see her shoulders lose all their tension is when she's between your folds. She's had such a long day, vida, come sit on her face. She's not even groping you the way she usually does during sex, hands instead playing idly with the fat of your thighs and ass while all her worries melt away. There are no thoughts running through her mind aside from how good you taste, how pretty you sound and how nice you feel under her hands.

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months ago

Text

WE CAN DIP IF YOU’RE READY ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.

word count; 7.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere imo), mild age gap (five years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once

a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)

one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.

you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach.

but right now you’re still only seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room; listening to the sound of the nearby sea. you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and foolishly wearing your heart on your sleeve.

you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.

it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air; his bare chest is exposed, pajama pants clinging to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you.

”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”

(suddenly, without mercy; a finality to his voice.)

he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, all those years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and crashed headfirst into his chest.

”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”

he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?

it’s a specific kind of torture.

(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.

but i want you.)

“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”

when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking at you, looking through you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god; his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod, smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.

but he just pinches your cheek, throws a backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.

then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of pancakes on the kitchen table, sugary and sweet, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.

and that’s how it ends.

there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.

… except they don’t.

the moral of the story is: satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was nineteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a naive little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.

satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.

(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)

five years later, on a breezy summer evening, you step onto a bustling train platform with your luggage in tow — breathing in the scent of a familiar seaside.

above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look up at them, and then back down; everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers, peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades, the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.

luckily, she’s quick to find you.

there she is. with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided, a yellow sundress and matching headband; sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, so used to her.

riko. your one and only best friend.

she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.

with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”

a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other just a month ago — you indulge her.

“i missed you too, riko…”

another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”

”you’re still mad about that?” you match her expression, sulking. “it’s not my fault i got sick.”

“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”

“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards a familiar house, resting in the distance. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.”

(… ah. right.)

the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb.

from within an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze, the buzz of an old radio spills out. when you strain your ears, you think you hear humming — gentle and sweet.

riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.

it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.

(and so is he.)

“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”

time stills, for just a single moment.

he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest.

a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.

he looks happy to see you.

“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.

“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”

then he’s turning towards you, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”

more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own. “good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”… i’m tired, though.”

your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off, muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own — leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice.

”i bet,” he hums. ”take a nap if you need to, yeah?”

a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot, unable to properly look into his eyes. for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.

then he’s moving forward.

one large stride towards you, as sudden as a lightning bolt, before he leans down to wrap his arms around you. squeezing your waist, with his biceps, not quite as tight as you remember his hugs being; you wonder if he’s holding back.

(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)

one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere.

“i missed you, kiddo.”

a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.

“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.

just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can.

“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”

“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen.

so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly.

“are you sure you’ll be alright?”

you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves.

“huh?”

“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”

you blink.

“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”

“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.”

heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a too-loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for the right words, brain tied up into fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”

“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”

another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, grounding, and all you can do is gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.

“… you could really, really do better, you know?”

her voice is quiet, now. soft and sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. you love her for it.

but…

“… i just like him.”

you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.

you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating — but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament.

(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)

and she pulls herself into a sitting position.

“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”

you let out giggle. “well, duh.”

she gives you a sunny grin.

“okay, good.”

you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.

“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”

“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”

despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.

you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.

(maybe there’s a chance?)

shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.

you’ll be okay.

okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.

“oh, there you are!”

satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.

the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm.

a picture-perfect summer day.

your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.

more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.

he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat.

(you’re about to fucking explode.)

as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”

you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.

“no pictures!”

“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”

a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.

“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?”

you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes…

suguru.

he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.

“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”

you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”

he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by... i had time to kill.”

“you missed me.”

a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”

“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”

you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers.

“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.

suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”

said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.

“well… you look good in it.”

at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.

“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.

“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”

“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”

“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”

satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”

his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.

finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and riko, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”

“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.

“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”

“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”

satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.

“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”

(they’re so stupid.

gosh, you missed them.)

“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”

“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”

“you’re paying, by the way.”

“…”

“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”

“i’m good. thanks, though.”

“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”

he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look.

“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”

she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”

“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“

“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”

”they are! just look at suguru.”

”hey.”

you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe.

and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room.

it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.

he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan flowing from his throat. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”

“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…

lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.

(you think your brain shuts down a little.)

his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —

and then he’s pulling away.

you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with a distinctly cold gaze, one you aren’t accustomed to seeing. you crane your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.

… was he staring at you, or what?

when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.

“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”

oh.

your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless. embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. he was just looking out for you.

finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response.

“i — it’s fine.”

your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?

it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.

the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him?

you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing, even though you’re anything but.

one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.

the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.

he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.

“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening.

“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.

“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”

you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.

and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.

(your heart melts, a little.)

“cola or sprite?”

you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”

— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.

you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.

“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”

a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more — unable to help yourself — you see it.

that apologetic smile.

(you really are obvious, aren’t you?

how embarrassing.)

silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.

satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.

“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”

…

something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.

“… it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”

a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.

“… you could really, really do better.”

you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”

a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”

something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.

“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.

“you’re five years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”

he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”

you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet.

“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”

…

“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”

a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.

“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”

your answer is instantaneous.

“i’ll pass.”

…

another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it’s dripping with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.

“fine, fine. just… think about it, okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair with a gentle caress. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”

and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.

deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her.

he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.

(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)

satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up. that your legs were long enough.

it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart, and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated, even if you’re completely delusional and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.

you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.

“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”

the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds.

and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.

“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”

he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thighs, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable. he’s strong. very strong.

the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.

and, honestly, you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.

“— remember?”

a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”

“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after another, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”

you tilt your head.

“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually… some park?”

“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”

satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”

a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.

“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”

…

“we almost got arrested once.”

you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those printed white flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”

“no,” he murmurs, softly, the slightest shake of his head. ”because i wanted to be prepared. in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something…” a sheepish little chuckle. ”i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”

satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.

“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep a steady hold around your legs. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy. i hope you can understand that.”

silence. then, a displeased huff.

“… you’re not some random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he stands a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”

you blink.

silence fills the open air.

he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet. satoru, your first love.

that satoru isn’t a good person?

(how could he ever, ever think that?)

“you are.”

a low hum buzzes in his throat. you’re not sure he heard you. if he did, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.

the only thing you can do is —

“satoru.”

another little hum. acknowledging, this time.

“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”

…

a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think, more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.

“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”

a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have.

finally, he parts his lips.

“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”

you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you. solemn, steady, a pillar of salt.

“… okay.”

a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking with the sound. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”

a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”

silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking, if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, and oxygen spills out.

(you think it’s a start.)

“… has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”

you’re quick to nod, nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”

“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”

now he’s just teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm; his voice set to a melodic lilt, as if tempting you to close your eyes. it’s summer, in a quiet port town.

and you adore him again.

that’s right, you muse, belatedly. loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t ever an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.

because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.

satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so. if only you could see that as a bad thing.

if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.

unlike the siblings and their overgrown yard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom — just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away; at least it’ll give way to better soil.

you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all, that’s it. that was always it.

“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts, unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off little ol’ me.”

ah. that’s right.

(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —

and satoru is too.)

you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you both. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?

“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”

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