#if it sucks don't ever think about me again please

[whore4mattsturniolo]

𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 ♡︎ 𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒌

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: you get bored and mess with chris while he's on stream

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: SMUTTTTTT, blowjobs, praising, degrading, slapping, semi public sex(?), almost getting caught, reader is obsessed with chris' hands

𝒂/𝒏: my first time ever writing and posting smut !! not all the way proofread cuz i get shy😣 this might not be the best but i definitely had fun writing it so i hope yall enjoy

Chris had been streaming for God knows how long, the only thing illuminating his dark bedroom was the bright screen of his monitor. It was at least 2 in the morning, and you were starting to get bored. Very bored.

There was something about how aggressive Chris got when he gamed. The way his jaw clenched whenever something he got frustrated, the way he cursed and swore, the way he muttered under his breath. It was one of the most attractive parts of him, especially because of how rarely it happened.

As the game continued, you felt a familiar feeling in your stomach, paired with a pooling in between your thighs. You were desperate for any attention, and Chris refused to give it to you.

"What the fuck you doing?" Chris shouted at a random player, his fingers rapidly pressing the buttons of his controller. "Fucking stupid," he cussed under his breath.

Your imagination began to run wild, thinking of what his long, slender fingers could be doing instead as you squeezed your legs together. You were obsessed with him, your body begging for the smallest bit of his attention.

He kept playing the game, kept ignoring you, and your desperation continued to grow. No matter how much you squirmed around, or scrolled aimlessly through your phone, the growing wet spot in your panties was becoming too much. The feeling wouldn't go away.

"Baby," you whined from your spot on the bed, scooting to the edge. But Chris kept ignoring you, his eyes not leaving his monitor, his attention not leaving the stupid video game.

You bite your lip, trying to find a way to get his attention, before a lightbulb goes off in your head.

You get off the bed, crawling on the floor towards Chris' desk, careful not to be seen by the thousands of watchful eyes of the Twitch stream. The cold, wooden floor cools your body down, as you look up at Chris.

He was beautiful. His blue eyes glued to the screen in front of him, his brown hair messy and disheveled under his headphones. His black shirt fit him perfectly, the short sleeves barely covering his biceps. Your eyes trailed down his body, focusing on his gray sweatpants, staring at the visible print of his cock.

You tap his leg, finally breaking his attention from the game. His eyes meet yours, seeing you on your knees by his chair.

"What are you doin' down there, kid?" He asks, looking back up at his monitor.

"I need you so bad baby," you whine. "It's been hours. M'goin' crazy over here."

"Be right back chat," Chris says as him, Matt, and Nick wait in the Fortnite lobby. He mutes his mic, ripping off his headset.

"Y'serious right now? I'm on stream and you're doin' this shit." He grunts.

"Please?" You pout, looking down at his print once again. "I'll be good. Just wanna taste you. You won't have to do anything."

Chris scoffs in disbelief. "Such a fuckin' slut. Beggin' me to suck my cock while I'm on stream. You're beggin' to get caught aren't ya?"

His words only turn you on further, as you nod, looking up with wide eyes.

He sighs, "Get under the desk. Don't make a fuckin' sound. Got it?"

You smile, biting your lip in excitement as you shift under the desk. Clearly Chris was excited about this too, his dick becoming more visible under his sweats. Even through pants, he was still huge, and you felt your mouth watering at the sight.

"Fuckin' Christ," he mutters, putting his headphones back on. "Chat, I'm back. Are we ready?" he continues the game, ignoring the sight of you pulling his sweats down.

Here he is, fully exposed, cock standing upright. His tip is red and angry with beads of precum leaking down his shaft. You look up at him again, spitting your hand before as you began to pump him slowly.

The intoxicating sight was enough to draw a moan from Chris' lips, barely covering the sound with a cough.

"Chris, you alright?" Nick asks through the headset, laughing along with Matt at the violent sound.

"M'good, man," Chris attempts to compose himself. "Water went down the wrong fuckin' pipe."

His breath hitches as he feels your hand on his dick, growing flushed as he continues to play. He knew the next noise he made would be a groan, so he kept quiet.

A shiver runs down Chris' spine as you continue to tease him, taking advantage of the fact that he had to stay quiet.

Taking your hand off his dick, you gathered spit from your mouth, continuing to pump his length with quickness. The sight garnered another groan from Chris.

You smirked, rubbing your thumb over his sensitive, throbbing tip, dripping with precum and saliva, his body involuntarily shivering. Getting too cocky, you were met with a light slap to the cheek, Chris looking down at you warningly.

You knew what he wanted, and you were eager to give it to him. You take him into your mouth, feeling each vein as his cock made its way down your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, you move your head up and down at a medium pace, swirling your tongue around his shaft

"Fuck!" Chris grunted, fumbling to turn the music up in an attempt to drown out his moans.

His gameplay was worsening, his hands shaking as he gripped the controller tightly. His knuckles were turning white while he ignored the sinful view under him.

You bob your head up and down quickly, saliva dripping down your chin as tears pricked your eyes. Chris suddenly bucked his hips up into your mouth, making you gag.

"Chris, what the fuck is that sound?" Nick's voice rang in Chris' ears through his headset.

"Uh, I dunno. I didn't hear anything," Chris lies, looking down into his lap into your wide, tear-filled eyes.

"I'll be back, chat," He turns his camera off. "Drank a shit ton of water today."

Going on mute once again, he slaps your cheek, harder this time. "Fuckin' slut," he spits, gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail. "Didn't I tell you—fuck—not to make a fuckin' sound?" He sets his own pace, pushing your head down on his achingly hard cock. "Tryna get us fuckin' caught," he says through breathless moans, bucking his hips into your mouth.

"Look at you," he smiles, admiring your red cheeks and puffy eyes, wiping the tear stains on your cheek. "Takin' me so well. Such a good fuckin' girl f'me," he pushes your head down further, your nose grazing his stomach. "That's it—shiit...Just like that...All the way down. Thaaat's a good girl." he finally pulls your head back as you gasp for air. "Shh, s'alright," he pushes you back down. "You can take it...takin' me like a champ."

The obscene sounds of slurping and gagging fills the room behind the loud music and gameplay. Chris has long forgotten about the livestream, his vision going blurry as he throws his head back in his chair, his hands not letting go of their tight grip in your hair while he fucks your face.

"Fuckin' God," Groans leave his parted lips as he continues to thrust his cock down your throat. "Gonna fill up this pretty mouth. You gonna let me do that?" He coos, holding your head up to look at him. "You gonna let me cum down your throat mama?"

You nod frantically, as Chris pushes your head back onto his cock. Your hands make their way around his shaft, stroking him up and down in rotating motions as his cock starts to twitch in your mouth.

"Fuck baby...shiit—" his hips thrust upwards, ropes of warm, sticky cum shooting down your throat. "Swallow it. Swallow that shit—fuck—that's it. Just like that.

Chris comes down from his high, his breath slowing down as his hands let go of your hair. "Open up, let me see."

You stick your tongue out, showing the white, sticky fluid splattered all over your throat and tongue, before swallowing.

"Good shit," he slaps your cheek again playfully. "Good job, princess," you smile at his words, moving from under his desk to back on the bed, as he throws his headset back on, tucking his dick back in his pants.

"I'm back, chat," he smirks, his brothers, and the chat, blissfully unaware of the sinful events that happened just moments prior.

send requests for other fics/drabbles <3 !!

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: @yourmother29 the love of my life 💕

[watarfallar]

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! *holds out this post*

Grian, grinning: I have a knife! Scar: Put it down, Grian. Grian: Make me! sprints away

Grian: What's the most illegal thing you can do with one dollar? Scar: Exchange it for a hundred pennies, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.

Scar: Can you be serious for five minutes? Grian: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

Scar: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreshing. Grian: Are you a software update? because not right now.

Grian: Hey, can you do me a favor? Scar: Sorry, I have to go do literally anything other than this. Grian: You don’t even have a legitimate reason? Scar: Oh, no, I do. Grian: Well, what is it? Scar: You see, I simply don’t give a fuck.

Grian, holding a box of Lunchables: Ah, I loved these when I was your age… fine dining. Scar: Fix yourself.

Scar: Okay, help me, please! Grian: Got two words for you. Scar: I bet they won't be helpful. Grian: Your problem. Scar: I was right.

Grian: Can I borrow five dollars? Scar: If you’re only borrowing it, does that mean you’ll pay me back? Grian: Of course. Grian: Not directly, but with my love and affection. Scar: So that’s a no.

Grian: Wow, did you hear that voice crack? Scar: That wasn't a voice crack, that was a whole voice meth.

Scar: …My man Grian just killed a goldfish. Grian: licking their lips Yup. Delicious.

Scar: I just got the best idea I've ever had in my entire life! Later Grian, to Scar: That was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Scar: Grian, you need to calm down. Grian, slamming their fists on the table: BUT HOW CAN IT BE "BIRTHDAY CAKE" FLAVOR IF A BIRTHDAY CAKE CAN BE ANY FLAVOR?!

Scar: I’m proud to say I’ve come over my fear of ghosts! Grian: Eyy, that’s the spirit! Scar: gasps whErE???!!!??

Scar: So you're looking for information on this thing, huh? Well, I feel like it must be from far away. Grian: What makes you say that? Scar: If it's something even I don't know about, then I'm sure nobody else must have a clue. So it's gotta be from some faraway place. Impeccable reasoning, isn't it? Grian: Scar… You don't have a clue about this thing, do you? Scar: screams in anger

Grian: Scar, you look deep in thought. What’s wrong? Scar: Did you know you can look at any object and know what it’s like to lick it? Even if you’ve never touched it before? Grian: I’m never asking you anything ever again.

Grian, looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Scar: Well, that's you. Grian: Me?! Is that what I look like? Scar: You don't know? Grian: Busy day.

Grian: Good morning! Scar: Is it? Is it really?

Grian: Urrrgh…I’ve never felt so sick in my entire life… Scar: Ouch. Shit sucks, man. Grian: I feel like I’m dying… Whyyyy… Scar, under their breath: Because I want to go back to some peace and quiet in this house. Grian:,/b> …DID YOU FUCKING POISON ME-

Scar: Pick a card, any card. Grian: Fine. Scar: Wait, that's my credit card! Grian: You said any card.

Scar: I’m going to get so much done today. Grian: I’ll hold you to that. 8 hours later Grian: So how much did you get done? Scar: One thing. Grian: Well, that’s one more than usual.

Scar: I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly. Grian: Why not? Scar: Because I don't know what they mean.

Scar: When did you become a hero? Grian: Um… the moment I saved you from getting killed. Scar: You’re the last person on earth I wanted to rescue me. Grian: Well… sucks to be you, don’t it.

Grian: You’re a horrible person! Scar: Maybe. But I’m rich and I’m pretty, so it doesn’t really matter.

Grian: Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere Scar: Where did you get that? Grian: My pocket. Scar: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Grian: Skills.

Scar with a gun to Grian's head: What happens if I pull this trigger? Heaven? Grian: Bold of you to assume I'll go to Heaven.

Scar: That sounds super! Doesn’t that sound super, Grian? Grian: No. Scar: I think I speak for Grian when I say it sounds really super.

Scar: Are pigeons drones? Grian: What? No, I'm trying to sleep. Scar: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES! Grian: Crying Please let me sleep…

[snyderdenyer]

Clark Kent taking care of his baby :)

Most of my stuff is written while high, none of it is proofread, if a typo really bothers you feel free to point it out so I can fix it :) Made thinking of Tom Welling and David Corenswets' (is that where you put the fucking apostrophe?) superman

tw: Dumbification? Subtle DD/LG undertones (Kind of unintentional). NSFW under the cut (pussy eating! Nipple play!)

Clark Kent loves an independent woman. Well , a mostly independent woman. She's smart, handles herself well, and he knows he never has to worry about her when she's on her own. But with him? Oh well now that's a different story. Why would she take care of herself when her big strong boyfriend is there to do it for her? All she needs to do, all Clark wants her to do, is sit there and look pretty. Holding his hand when she walks with him, not paying attention to cars because she knows he will. Why would she keep track of her keys when she knows Clark will? He's lost count of the times she'll get up from their usual seat in their favorite cafe, leaving her phone, purse and coffee. It's not his baby's job to do all that, he gets to take care of her, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He stops on the sidewalk to tie her shoes, picks out her clothes; even orders for her, choosing what she'll get if she can't decide.

He loves taking care of her. It'd be cruel to do anything else, how could he make her do any of the work? He sits her in his lap when they watch movies, letting her lean back against him while he slides his hand under her shirt, gently kneading her soft tits, playing with her nipples while she squirms under his touch. "Stay still honey", he'll whisper in her ear, pressing a kiss to his neck while one arm stretches across her tummy, holding her against him. He lays her back on the couch, movie long forgotten as he slides up her nightgown, leaning down to suck on her nipples. Letting out soft chuckles as she whines and threads her fingers through his hair, legs coming up to wrap around him. "I know honey. Always so sensitive, but you can take it".

He kisses down her tummy, pressing a few into the pretty blue cotton panties she's wearing, the ones she bought because, "Look Clarky! They match your suit!", tongue darting out of his mouth, gently licking her clit over the fabric, letting out a groan as she pleads "Stop teasing Clarky, please?". And how could he ever say no to her? Tugging off her panties and laying back down, gently sinking his teeth into her inner thigh, the pressure barely enough to leave indentations, before gently kissing her clit. She whines hips rolling up, a silent plea for more. He speaks gently, kissing her thigh again: "Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me tonight?". She pouts at him, "I am! you're being mean." God she's so bratty, and he wouldn't have it any other way. He gives in, licking her clit the way she always fucking begs him too, the need to make her cum outweighing his desire to make her wait.

He puts one arm across her tummy again, holding her down as she squirms, legs closing around his head, sucking in a breath as he forces them open. "M-more", she whimpers and he eagerly obliges, slowly sinking two fingers into her, curling them gently against her g-spot. It's almost too much for her, back arching as she tugs on his hair, gasping as he flicks his tongue again. She's almost there, feeling that familiar knot build in her tummy, her breathing picking up and her body flushing with heat. "Don't stop! Please don't stop oh god!" her voice is higher, desperate as she pleads with him. He groans in assent, continuing his actions, curling his fingers a little faster, the familiar squelch that always makes his cock twitch in his jeans. He can feel her right there, teetering on the edge as she whines, before crashing over it. Her back arches and she cries out, her usual chant of "Clarky!" long forgotten as she struggles to even breathe, her thighs closing around his once more, trapping his face against her as she rides out her high.

She opens her thighs again, sighing softly, as Clark sits up, pulling her towards him and kissing her. The taste of herself on his tongue making her whimper into his mouth as he drags her into his lap. "M'sensitive" she pleas, only eliciting a condescending noise of sympathy from him; "Yeah I know. But you can take it, yeah? My pretty girl can take it, cause we're just getting started".

[sirkendryan]

well since you asked so nicely...

(cw: alcohol, slight dubcon)

I press my body to the closed door like a barricade against it, overwhelmed with the reflex to shield my prince. he looks so vulnerable there on the bed, endless bare skin washed in amber candlelight, gazing over his shoulder at me with eyes bright creased by a grin. he's sprawled on his belly, knees bent and feet lazily kicking in the air, the draw and gather of his soft flesh offering peeks at his ass, arched up ever-so-slightly.

still buzzing under the possess of the wine from the feast, I think for a moment that I'm dreaming awake to see him there like that.

"took you long enough," he jests. "I've been waiting for you."

I look away and then look back, drawn by opposing manner and desire. my neck and cheeks are burning.

"oh, don't play so coy, knight. hardly a fresh sight to you."

I am suddenly very aware of my body in that most private of spaces, the heart of the prince's bedchamber. the room smells faintly of orange, cedar, and spice drifting in from the corridors like a wandering ghost. the air is chilled, but even entirely unclothed the prince doesn't seem bothered by it in the least.

he drops his legs to dangle his feet from the bed, peering keenly at me as he parts his knees just a touch. I could have guessed as much, but now there is no denying how wet he is, his cunt glistening and the hair there beaded with drips of slickness.

the rush of blood through my body leaves me dizzy. my tongue sits lame in my mouth.

"do you not think we deserve to celebrate amongst ourselves, something more intimate than the banquet?" he inquires, exaggerating an innocent tone.

he shifts again, rising up on his knees and pedestalling that perfect ass higher. I know now he must have been touching himself in my absence because I can smell him all over the bed even from paces away. as if reading my mind, he brings his right hand to his mouth and sucks his middle and ring fingers slowly, face still smushed to the bedspread as he angles his head to look back at me. he gives a light chuckle.

"say something, you dunce."

"I am... surprised," I manage to say. the only armour I have on is my chainmail, but the weight of it against my crotch is restriction enough to hurt. "sire, perhaps the festivities have gotten the better of you, I don't think..."

my words slip from my mouth when the prince slides a hand between his thighs and his fingers run against his swollen cock.

"you don't think what?"

"I... it's just... this is rather unbecoming," I protest, but I am already worrying at my gloves, distractedly tugging them off. "I would object none to closing the night with satisfying you, but I don't see how such a position—"

"you have done me good service the whole year through, gentle sir," insisted the prince, voice huskier. his fingertips trace his dripping hole. "it is the season of goodwill and giving. allow me to reward you for a job well done."

"your highness..."

"yes, sir knight?"

when his fingers dip inside of himself I flinch and my resolve slips.

I unclasp my cloak and let it fall to the floor. I move in a frenzy to kick out of my boots and shuck off my belt and breeches, brow drawn hard, watching my prince breathe a soft groan into the mattress. a moment later I am standing mid-stride and half-naked, still with my chainmail upon my torso veiling my released cock, hard and leaking against the chilled metal. I hesitate again a mere pace from the bed's border.

"my lord," I gasp out, "this isn't proper. to do this... to enter you like this would be..."

my hands hover at my sides. my palms ache for his hips. I want to dig my fingers into that giving flesh and hold him fast and fuck him like a devotee of pain worshipping their god in a brothel—but this is my prince I am lusting for so perversely.

"turn on your back, sire. let me please you with my mouth," I offer. my mouth waters as he draws his fingers from his well-slicked entrance.

"tonight is about your pleasure, knight. you can have me any way you want me. if that's truly what you desire, I will have no issue in obliging," coos the prince, smiling puckishly, "but something tells me that you'd like me to stay this way so you can ravish me just like this. am I wrong?"

he's eyeing my cock as it twitches, bouncing under my chainmail. the hunger on his face burns as bright as that in my guts, and the last of my resistance snaps.

I can't wait. I ruck up the bottom of the mail as I close in on him, grabbing at his ass and forcing his hips farther to the edge of the bed. he yelps but spreads himself diligently before me. I can feel his heat even before I position myself, priming with selfish strokes of my hard prick in my hand, grunting with my building anticipation.

"go on, my knight," huffs the prince, his hole twitching eagerly. "make me yours."

I want to draw it out, to savour him like this, to rub myself against his cunt until I can't stand it anymore, but impatience takes me. I slide bit by bit into him, pulling him in until flesh meets flesh and I am as deep as I can get.

he's moaning now, dreadfully loud, but I don't care about the risk of his voice carrying beyond the walls of his chambers. I am enveloped in pleasure and all I want is more. I try to grant mercy with a slow pace, but I need more of him, more of his slick cunt gripping me, and considerations of mercy are exceeding my reach.

I cannot help myself from slamming into him. my force knocks him back down his to belly and I follow, clambering atop my gasping prince, trapping him on the bed beneath me. he grabs at my arm when I plant a hand by his shoulder and the feel of his hands on my sleeve ground me a little. for a moment I slow.

"s-sire," I pant, my voice trembling. "you feel so good... you feel too good—"

"please, knight," he whimpers. from the pitiful sob in his voice I fear he may beg my halt. "please... don't stop, sir knight, please... ruin me."

like a struck pressure point, those words drive me back to relentless, wild rutting. the chainmail slaps between us and scrapes against the prince's back and ass, painting it a raw pink. I cover him with my body, dropping to my elbows and burying my face in the nape of his neck. I breathe in the scent of his hair and taste his skin with a stolen kiss as my ears fill with his beautiful cries.

"if I had known," I grunt, my voice tightening with each thrust, a harmony to the prince's choppy whines and sobs, "oh, your highness, if I had known what rapture it is to have you this way, to sink myself into you and keep you beneath me this way, by jesu, I would have taken you sooner." the words run together in a ramble as the tension in my gut tightens. "each time— each time you called upon me to kneel and please you, I would have laid you out and taken you like this, taken you and made you mine—my lord, my prince, oh god, mine, my own—!"

I do not ease my pace as I come inside my prince, lost to the pleasure. he is writhing beneath me and clawing at my arms, helpless and howling, chanting pleas of my name on strained breaths. for a moment I see stars and a ringing underlines the symphony of raw cries, striking flesh, and jingling mail.

I slow when the ringing fades. I can barely hold myself up but I do, lest I crush the prince entirely beneath me. gradually, my sense returns as my peak wanes.

"sire?" I huff. "are you... alright?"

a chuckle rumbles up against my ribcage between heavy breaths.

"don't tell me... you're bowing out now, knight... we have all night yet before christmas ends."

it's Christmas, don't forget to call your loyal knight to your chambers after the festivities to reward him for his good service all year long. get on your royal knees for him, get on all fours and let him take you from behind like a dog in heat, serve him. You've both been waiting all year for this. he will protest that it is beneath you, to allow him to debase you in this way, but he knows how badly you want it, how you yearn for any excuse to give yourself to him, and he'll forget any objections once he has you crying under him

[cukrkandl]

rosekiller microfic

— ace evan (my most beloved) | 821 words | cws: internalized acephobia, allonormativity, forcing yourself to have sex (nothing actually happens), very mild suggestive content

Evan stares at the tiny vial in his hands, the ever-present anxiety in his stomach growing again.

Six months of waiting for it to brew, of making excuses, of letting Barty down. And now Evan can finally be normal.

It takes him hours to find the courage to actually drink it. His brain, as always, works against him, because he doesn't want to have sex. He never had. Never will, he knows that now. That's why he had it brewing in an abandoned classroom for all those months, spending more time just staring at it than being with his actual boyfriend.

He drinks the potion thinking about Barty, how happy he'll be that Evan's finally ready. No matter how patient he's been, Evan knows he's frustrated. And horny.

The liquid makes him feel strange, and for a second, he thinks maybe he brewed it wrong, but then the feeling in his stomach just—disappears. His mind clears, and yeah, let's go find Barty. Let's do this thing.

Feeling like he has no control over his body, Evan walks to their dorm, and finds Barty sprawled in his bed. Immediately, his face brightens up, but he's not given a chance to speak before Evan kisses him.

If Barty's surprised, he recovers in record time, pulling Evan closer until he's straddling him. Evan likes this part; he knows it makes Barty want to have sex even more, but Evan enjoys this feeling. Like he's going to get consumed by it all, and he would let Barty eat him up, no questions asked. It's a different sort of closeness, and Evan craves it more than anything.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Barty breaks the kiss and bites the sensitive skin on his neck. Nothing hot about it at all, though Evan can't really be the judge of that, just something primal.

Eventually, though, it always gets uncomfortable. It stops feeling good. Barty's hands start wandering, his fingers start getting itchy, and Evan's brain makes it feel bad. It's all wrong.

Not anymore.

As Barty plants both of his hands on Evan's ass, he pulls away. Barty wants to have sex, it's easy to tell. Evan doesn't know why he's been waiting for him. He deserves better.

For just a brief second, Evan mourns his own wishes for nothing but a lot of this, for getting lost in the kisses, and then maybe cuddling, and closes his eyes, letting the Felix Felicis do the work for him.

If he has to drink it for the rest of his life to have sex—well. Maybe he'll get used to it.

But instead of giving him an answer to one of the biggest mysteries of the universe and forcing him to finally do it, the potion makes him say, "I don't want to have sex with you." And if that wasn't bad enough: "Like, ever."

Barty freezes. He looks up at Evan, carefully removing his hands from his ass, slow like he's scared Evan will implode. Honestly, he might. He was supposed to take this to his grave.

He wants to take it back, but the potion won't let him. No words come out, nothing happens, and fuck, what is Evan supposed to do now?

He can't even cry.

"Okay," Barty says.

What?

"What?"

"I said okay," Barty repeats. "I don't care."

"But you—you want to," Evan says, whining. Why isn't the potion working?

Except it is, he can feel it inside of him, but how is this luck? Disappointing your boyfriend? Denying him something he has every right to want?

But Barty just shrugs. "Can I still jerk off?"

"Wha—yeah?"

"Can I still touch you? Like what we were just doing."

"Yeah?"

"Can we still cuddle?"

"Yeah," Evan whispers, his secret wish coming back with so much force it nearly knocks him over. "You really don't mind?"

"I don't think so? I mean, I thought I couldn't live without sex, but look at me, we've been together for what, eight months now? And I'm fine. I didn't die. My hand might fall off one day, and then we'll have a problem, but I'm fine."

He looks like he's telling the truth, too, just lying there, his fingers drawing tiny circles on the back of Evan's hand. Calming him down.

Oh. Oh.

"I love you," Evan blurts out, and it's all him, no liquid luck.

Barty smirks. "You'd better."

And then he just resumes the kissing, putting his hands back on Evan's ass, except that's all there is. Evan's still trained to make himself feel bad about it, but it doesn't—it feels fine. It's just touching, nothing more looming over it, and that makes it okay.

He loses himself in the kiss, feeling so incredibly lucky.

Barty bites down on his lip, hard, and Evan lets himself be consumed. The potion inside of him stays silent. He doesn't need any more luck.

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[kurokoros]

first of all, the duffers absolutely didn't have the full series planned out from the start because Stranger Things was originally pitched as a limited series with 1) the potential for a direct "sequel" that would follow the younger kids as adults (basically, they pitched "It") or 2) an outright sci-fi horror anthology. second of all, even if the duffers did have everything mapped out from the start that doesn't mean that plan isn't garbage.

[zemnarihah]

my best friend has been very distant w me lately and i asked today if she wanted to hang out and she said she probably couldn't bc it's her brothers birthday but she would let me know if she could and i have her location and i just looked and she's at her boyfriends house rn....

[liinos]

it's crayz bc i know my sisters will vent to each other about me/talk about me when i'm not there but *i* can't do that with either or them bc they always tell the other and it's like 🧍🏻‍♀️ well who am i supposed to vent to then🧍🏻‍♀️

[gay-jesus-probably]

Come on, it's not like the first Trump administration had any serious consequences, it's not like millions of people lost their abortion rights or anything. Who wants bodily autonomy and potentially lifesaving medical treatment anyways? And it's not like Republicans are very openly bragging about how their next target is the basic human rights of queer people, and if they get a major win in the upcoming election, they will be able to do that.

Besides, people can't vote for Biden, I mean my god, the man is giving Israel bombs to drop on Palestine. The only real solution is to allow Trump to be elected, so that he can drop nuclear bombs on Palestine like he's been openly fantasizing about doing for years. As we all know, the best way to show support for Palestine is to openly brag about how you'd rather see the whole country nuked into oblivion than have to dirty your hands with filling out a fucking ballot.

Why are people acting like another Trump administration couldn't possibly have any lasting consequences, when we're still dealing with the aftermath of the Reagan administration now.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

they should invent a way to ask if you have felt suicidal or have had suicidal thoughts at the doctor when they ask where you'll answer truthfully. i am fine and i always fight the suicidal thoughts but i went to the urgent care the other day and they asked and i said no no nothing like that. but i lied! of course i have! i've been vaguely fantasizing about getting hit by a car the past few days!!! i truly hate suicide for Reasons, it makes me incredibly sad and distressed, and for myself sometimes i don't even realize it's started creeping into my head again (i'm fine i genuinely promise) but like. as much as i hate it, it's there in some of my friends and me and i have to wonder about the fact that "yeah, but doesn't everyone at least a little bit?" isn't the right answer.

[webism]

Virgin!Nanami is hesitant the first time you go down on him, because as he's nearing his (blinding, world shattering) orgasm, you aren't pulling off of him.

He's played the scene a million times in his head before, late at night as he palmed his cock through his boxers and tried to will his mind away from such lewd thoughts of you. In every fantasy he had of you on your knees like you are now, you serve him with your mouth until he's close, and then pull off to stroke him through his orgasm.

But your lips are still wrapped around him. His ragged breath, the gentle buck of his hips up into your mouth... is it not indication enough that he's about to unravel? Kento has to lick his lips to try and save his dry mouth before he speaks, though it comes out as more of a broken moan. "Sweetheart, I'm... so close."

And you hum around his cock, send a vibration up his spine that has his eyes rolling back. You hollow out your cheeks and increase your pace, desperate for a taste.

It's too much, he's never felt so boneless. His vision is already going, he's right on the edge of the strongest orgasm he's had in his life when he gently tugs back on your hair. "Stop, stop."

Of course, you're off of him instantly, wiping your spit-sheened lips dry and watching Kento wide eyes. "Are you okay? Too much?"

Kento is breathless, his cresting orgasm quickly fading out of reach. "You didn't pull away. I was going to..."

"I know," you nod, a gentle hand on his knee something soothing. "What, you don't want to cum?"

He blinks. "No, I... not in your mouth. I respect you, and I don't want you to sacrifice your comfort for me."

And you can't help but grin at the serious look strewn across his face. You lean down and press a kiss to his knee, and then higher up on his thigh, and another just above the patch of hair that bases his leaky cock.

"Kento Nanami," you look up at him, and press a feather-light kiss to his tip. "If you don't cum in my mouth, I will cry. I wanna taste more of you."

Your words alone are enough to relight that fire licking at his insides. He watches you for a moment, tries to discern whether or not you're speaking only to please him, but ultimately nods.

When you take him back into your mouth, all the way down to the base, Kento swears he must've been a saint in his previous life to deserve such pleasure in this one. You trace the vein that runs under his length with your tongue, and then suck on his cock as if you're trying to milk him dry.

When he cums, it's with a loud and uncharacteristically whiney moan that makes you wonder how he sounds begging. You taste his cum on your tongue, feel as he shoots it into your mouth, his dick throbbing and balls tightening in the same regard.

He's already overstimulated, panicking a little at the new subtle pain of more, and although he thinks he likes it, you know it'll be too much for his first time. You pull off of him, careful to spill as little of his release as possible, and sit back on your heels.

And Kento is a mess, lips parted as he watches your pull into a greedy smile. He's eager to watch you spit him out, perhaps a testament to the fact he was inside of you. But you meet his eyes, let him sit on your tongue a moment longer, and then swallow.

He's hard all over again, he wonders how he'll ever lead a normal life again after a sight like that. His mouth is dry, cock still wet with your spit, heart beating near out of his chest.

Still, he manages to stop you when you move to get up and start on his aftercare. "Wait," his voice is small, he's nervous.

You raise your eyebrows, "yes, Ken?"

"I want to taste you, too."

hi @angxlsatvrn

[s0dium]

Obsession

Warning: Love drunk men, fingering, titty sucking, nipple play, unprotected sex, love drunk reader

~

Love courses through your veins. He’s all you can think about.

You wonder if it's normal to be this enamored with someone, to be this hopelessly head over heels infatuated and obsessed. You can't even focus on what needs to be done anymore because he's absorbed your entire being; he's in your head when you wake up, a gentle whisper in the back of your mind during conversations, a constant in your dreams, day or night.

But it's a doomed one-sided crush you remind yourself. You're not even sure if he knows you exist and in quieter moments, you wonder if perhaps it’s better this way. Loving from a distance means you never have to face the potential heartbreak of rejection, never have to see that polite smile of someone who doesn’t return your feelings. It's safer, you tell yourself, to admire him from afar, keeping your heart guarded behind the shield of daydreams and what-ifs.

So surely, right now in this moment, you must be dreaming.

It feels too vivid, too intense to be just a figment of your imagination. The warmth of his breath against your cheek, the weight of his bare body pressing gently down on yours, the softness of his lips moving against your own with an insatiable hunger—it all feels astonishingly real.

Because it is.

You don't know how but now you're naked underneath him, letting him touch, grope, suck, kiss, nip, and bite anything his hands and mouth can find. He doesn't let up either, he's exploring your body like a starved man, like he'll never get a chance to touch you ever again and wont pull away until he's had his fill.

You gasp when you feel his fingers between your legs, tracing your inner thigh before gliding between your pussy lips. Instinctively, you jerk back at the feeling; his fingers collecting your arousal and sliding up and down. But before you can speak, he kisses you again, his tongue eagerly intertwining with yours. When he finally pulls away, leaving you breathless, a thin strand of saliva connects your mouths.

"Just let me take care of you okay?" He hums before dipping two fingers into your tight hole. "Just been waiting so long to do this."

You don't even have time to react before he's curling his digits and massaging a sweet spot you could only dream about hitting on your own. His other hand gropes your left breast and with his index and thumb, begins to play with your perky nipples. As if that wasn't enough, his mouth found your other breast and gave it the same attention, licking sucking, and rolling your nipple like it was candy.

Colors dance across your closed eyelids and you wonder if this is heaven, if you've died and reached nirvana because the pleasure is just that good. You dont know if you can handle this, handle the fact that he's sucking and playing with your nipples while finger fucking you. Your toes curl and uncurl from the hot searing euphoria that is absorbing your body and emitting from your core. Your back arches off the bed and your crying his name, moaning it even, something you only dreamed about doing late at night when you craved him.

Suddenly, his mouth releases your nipple with a pop and he ceases all of his ministrations, leaving you breathless and confused.

"Fuck, I-" He's breathless himself, his face flushed and pupils blown. "Need to be inside you, need to feel you." He practically groans, and you thickly gulp at his words. Your brain goes fuzzy and you dizzily watch him pull down his boxers, the length slapping against his abdomen after being released from its confines.

He watches you lay down on the bed, breasts and cunt glistening from juices. You dont know this but he actually thinks he is dreaming. You look like a painting right now and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from spilling just at the sight of you.

"Please," You whine, "Please fuck me."

Who is he to deny you?

Without a word he presses his tip against your entrance and slides into you, grunting at the snug fit of your walls. You let out a loud moan from the feeling of him filling you so so perfectly, so well you mentally curse yourself for thinking a dildo or your fingers could ever do the job.

Then with a moan of his own, he slides out of you, nearly leaving you empty, before rocking himself back into you. Oh, how he wanted to fuck you slow and nice, like you deserved, but as the seconds passed, his resolve seep away until he just couldn't possibly hold back anymore.

His thrusts become faster, quicker, slamming in and out of you with such vigor and ease due to your combined juices coating and dripping from both his length and your hole. The friction is delicious, and his tip seems to hit your g-spot perfectly with each thrust. He even grabs the underside of your thigh and pushes them against you, effectively folding you and half and allowing him to go even deeper inside you.

You could feel your rational slipping away as he groaned about how fucking good you felt, about how good you where taking him, how he had been dreaming about this. You want to say something too, say something about how you feel the same way, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth right now is wanton moans of his name.

The pleasure was becoming too much, it had been slowly building and building and you know your about to break any second, burst with such euphoria you don't know if you will ever come back from the high. Before you do though, your brain manages to work again for half a millisecond to express the exact words you are feeling.

"Love you! M'love you so much!" You gasped before letting yourself succumb to the mind-numbing orgasm that was waiting for you. Your whole body shook and quaked from the pleasure and your mind went white. You thought you might cry, from happiness or pleasure you did not know. But you didn't. You simply went limp while you let him use your body like a sex doll.

You are barely clinging onto consciousness when you feel his hips stutter against you and he scoops you up, holding you close while he cums inside you.

"Love you too, love you too." He groans against your ear.

Any character you want ;)

[lastoneout]

I keep thinking about all of the disabled activists and people before me who stranded themselves on the 4th floor of buildings for weeks and crawled up stairs and fought with airline staff and schools and doctors and refused to stop existing in the face of injustice and bigotry no matter how big and scary and hopeless it seemed. Every time I get angry and scared the protests that lead to the creation of the ADA pop up again and remind me that disabled people are so much fucking stronger than anyone has ever given us credit for, and I can't help but be proud of that. And I know not all disabled people feel like we should take pride in our disabilities and have flags or whatever, but I think not just living, but thriving, in spite of a world that wants us dead and gone, in the face of both illness and persecution, and how we've not only bought ourselves forward, but uplifted the disabled people around us, secured more equal futures for everyone who will come after, and truly changed the way so many abled people have seen us for the better is something to be damn fucking proud of.

We have always been here and we always will be, there will never be a world without disabled people because being disabled is not bad, it's a natural part of the human experience and yeah it sucks some times but even when it sucks we have fought to build beautiful, unique, happy lives with people, both like us and not, and that should be celebrated.

The first sign of human civilization is the healed femur. The body of the profoundly disabled person who would have needed help to even just eat being carefully laid to rest after decades of a full, happy life. The medicinal plants showing even before we were entirely human we were doing what we could to not just survive, but alleviate suffering while we're at it. Above everything, evolution selected not the baby who can walk and eat and be quiet, but the one that can ask for help.

Disabled people are not just angry cockroach motherfuckers who refuse to die, we are proof of humanity's HUMANITY. Proof that natural selection selected a species that takes care of each other. From healed femurs and medicinal plants to vaccines and IVs and insulin to now, we are driven to help one another, we are at our strongest when we don't leave our most vulnerable behind. And I am living proof of that. My mother is living proof of that. Every disabled and chronically and/or mentally ill person I know is living proof of that.

And I don't know about the rest of you, but will carry that shred of humanity's true nature inside me like it's my fucking soul. I am scared and angry and hurt, but I have a lifetime's experience being scared and angry, and I can shake off the kind of pain that would make Atlas crumble to dust like it's nothing but a stiff fucking breeze. Disabled people have always been here, turning fear and anger and pain into joy and beauty and connection, and I'm not going to let everyone who came before me down. I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.

It's okay if you're disabled and you've hit your limit, you're too scared and tired and hurt, I won't blame you. But I won't abandon you, either. I might not be able to right all of the wrongs in the world, but I'll be strong, I'll carry all of you with me, I will not give up.

As I've said before, society hates a cripple who won't die, so we must spite them and live anyway.

Please, live anyway. I know if anyone can, it's us.

[lymtw]

It's three in the morning and the sound of your phone vibrating against the bed wakes you from your peaceful slumber. You lazily reach for the blinding light next to you, instantly knowing who's on the other end when you see the blue diamond emoji.

"Hello..."

You were very much asleep, the raspiness in your voice making it that much more evident.

"Hey, sorry to wake you. Are you okay to talk for a bit?"

Satoru sounds like he's wide awake.

"Don't worry about it. What's up?"

You roll onto your side, your phone between your ear and your pillow. If you close your eyes for more than three seconds, you'll fall asleep again.

There's a slight pause between your response and his. Maybe the signal is bad or he didn't hear you.

"Is everything alright, Satoru?"

"I can't sleep."

He responds quickly this time. His tone didn't change. He didn't sound like he was in distress or too worried about the fact.

"Oh. Uh... have you tried drinking some chamomile tea? I personally don't like it, but when I need to rest, I suck it up and force myself to drink a cup."

He chuckles on the line. You always do what is best for you, even if it's not something you particularly enjoy.

"I think i'm just missing you a lot. Can I come over?"

It was strange to think he hadn't tried a tea remedy for his inability to sleep, but who were you to tell him that? Sleep deprivation does things to people.

"Right now? It's a little late, don't you think?"

You blink slowly, trying to adjust your blurry vision in the dark.

"I promise I won't fall asleep behind the wheel. I really want to see you. Please say yes."

You shut your eyes tightly and open them, your vision clearing up a little. When have you ever said 'no' to him? He always manages to change your mind when you do.

You sigh.

"Okay. You have the spare key to my apartment. I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll be there in like fifteen minutes. Love you, bye!"

You can hear the joy in his tone. He was genuinely so uncomfortable being alone with himself, that he had to wake you up so late at night to invade your space.

–

You knocked out again, once you hung up the phone. You were in such deep sleep that you didn't even notice when Satoru got to your apartment, or when he entered your room.

You did feel the bed weigh down when he laid down next to you, and your nose couldn't ignore his sweet, sweet scent.

"Baby," he whispered. "I'm here."

"Okay, now go to sleep," you mumble, your eyes still closed.

"Come here." He effortlessly turns you over and pulls you close, lifting your leg over his hip. His hand went up to your face, caressing your delicate, peaceful features before scattering kisses all over it, making sure to elongate the duration of the ones he leaves on your lips.

"Baby," he coos. "Come on, kiss me back."

He's like a dog—constantly begging for your attention. The thought makes you crack a smile, one Satoru does not miss.

"I know you're awake." He smiles, putting your leg back in place, before rolling over until he's on top you.

"Fucking hell, 'toru," you break, cracking up at how he had no remorse after crushing your body.

"There's my pretty baby. I'm so glad you're awake now."

"It's your fault," you grumble.

"If wanting to love you is a crime, then throw me in the slammer and toss the key." His nose dove into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You're just so pretty, and you're all mine."

His affection was starting to evolve into more than lovey dovey kisses. His lips stung every time they met your delicate neck. His hands were roaming beneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He loved the way your breathing quickened. It had him chasing more of the reactions associated with the hummed melodies.

"You are mine, right?" He knows the answer, but hearing you say it from time to time always makes him happy. His icy blue eyes can read your response before you even form it. He loves flustering you with eye contact tied with touches that burned with desire. To top it all off, he loves teasing you to see the way you scramble your response. "It's okay if you're not." He smirks, catching the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. "That's subject to change, isn't it?" He eggs on.

"I'm yours, Satoru. I belong to you," you say, making it crystal clear to him. "All yours." With this, he wouldn't doubt it again until the next time he wasn't with you.

"Yeah? You know, I would've done anything to hear those words from you." He leans down to kiss you, a spike of arousal hitting him when you bit his lip and sucked on it.

"Oh... you can't do that. I will put a baby in you." He has never said anything so seriously.

"I dare you to put a baby in me," you say, teasingly. You know he won't do it. He's not ready to share you yet.

"Keep acting like that and I will."

His lips ghost the column of your neck, trailing down your chest and lower to your abdomen. Your oversized gown of a t-shirt was the only thing standing between your body and his eyes. He pulled it up and off with a little help from you, tossing it aside after.

You were a little nervous about what was running through Satoru's head. He was devouring you with just his eyes and already you felt so flustered.

"God, don't ogle me like that, 'toru." You put your hands over your breasts—a makeshift bra to cover what he was staring at.

"Let me see you, baby," he pries, gently. He puts his hands on yours, not pulling them away as to not make you do anything you don't want to do. You end up moving your hands on your own, but turn away, unable to hold his gaze when he's watching you that way.

He cups your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples, instantly making them pebble. He could feel the way you tried to press your thighs together, your relief disturbed by his body wedged between your legs. You tried your hardest to remain composed, but his fingers wouldn't let up. His eyes were glued to your face, watching intently until you let out a shaky breath.

"Mhm..." he hummed, grinning at your bashful attempt to stay quiet. "I know this is driving you crazy."

"Shut... up."

"If it isn't, why can I feel you rubbing up against my stomach."

You stop and your cunt throbs at the suddenness of it.

"Just let it out and we can move on. Let me hear that pretty little ah-"

"Fuck," you whimper, interrupting his instructive moan. Your back arches slightly off the mattress, your hands flying to grip his wrists, tightly.

"Good girl," he praises, his fingers letting off your tortured peaks. Little butterfly kisses are placed between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach, where he spends so much time eliciting giggles from you.

His fingers hook around the elastic band of your shorts and panties, pulling them both down in one swoop.

"I didn't know kissing turned you on so much," he says, eyeing the glossy remnants left in your underwear.

"'toru..." you whine, feeling somewhat embarrassed about the amount of arousal you feel at the simplest touches from him.

"What? I'm not complaining one bit. It's cute."

He slides two fingers between your folds, easily collecting your sweetness. You jolt at the sudden contact, looking at him with doe eyes.

"Oh, baby. I don't deprive you of my touch that much, do I?"

You shake your head as he continues to collect your nectar, his fingers dipping in slightly to fully coat his fingertips.

"My sensitive princess." He smiles, softly. "How many times do you wanna cum?"

He never asks you this, always just giving you everything he can give or what you can take. You go for a small number, not wanting to seem excessively needy.

"Maybe two times? Please?" Your voice sounds meek. Like you're asking him for the impossible.

Satoru just chuckles. "How 'bout we triple that number?"

–

"S-Satoru—fuck— just like that, like that!" Your head pushes back against the pillow, your hands beside your head, scrunching up the sheets.

This was the fourth orgasm. There was cum spotted over your inner thighs and sweat layered over both your bodies. He had driven you to insanity like he planned.

"More, baby?" He grunts, thrusting with his continuous pace.

"Please," you cry out, fresh tears welling in your eyes again.

Satoru loved watching the tears stream down your face because he got to lean down and kiss them away. He takes the opportunity to praise you— to tell you how good you're being for him.

Your back arched and you braced yourself for the intensity of your next orgasm. Satoru swallowed your moans, kissing you fervently through his own rush. His breathing stuttered when he felt your nails clawing at his back, and once again his cum spurted into you. His breathing was heavy through the nose due to his insistence of kissing you until he you patted him for air.

"Fuck," you muttered. You let out an out of breath laugh, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to even out your breathing.

"That's five, baby." He exhales sharply, leaning back and running a hand through his dampened locks. You look at him with twinkling eyes, a smirk being thrown in your direction from your admiration.

"Come here," you say, outstretching your arms towards him. Satoru immediately fills the vacancy, sighing when you rake your nails against the nape of his neck. "Want you to take your time with this last one."

He takes that as a green light to start up again. He guides his cock into you again, savoring the hum that leaves you when he stuffs you again and begins his slow rhythm.

"'toru?" Your voice sounded sultry to his ears.

"Hm?"

"This won't happen again. I hope you know that." You're trying your hardest not laugh or make any sounds that take from the meaning of what you're saying.

He had to raise his head to meet your gaze. Something in the way he looked at you made you believe that this would definitely happen again.

"I hope it does. I love having you under me."

"It's inconvenient. It's so late, 'toru. Why can't we fuck when i'm not trying to sleep? Like in the daytime, or earlier in the night?"

His lips trace your jawline, and you just know he's going for your neck. Satoru lives for pointing out the marks he left on you, the day after.

"Simple," he hums. "I want you to myself." His hips continue to rock into you at the same languid pace. "At night, nobody is gonna take you from me. You won't be distracted and I get all your attention to myself." He kisses your neck. "You're all mine at night. Nobody expects you to be awake."

You gasp when he hits a spot that aches deliciously.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me," he murmurs into your neck. You can feel the way his back ripples as he instinctively picks up the pace. He was overwhelming, thrusting deeper and deeper like he was trying to consume you. What was supposed to be a slow drive towards your final orgasm of the night, turned into him unapologetically using his stamina to lure everything he could out of you. He was almost too much with the way his mouth was ruthless towards your neck and the bruising grip he kept on your hips. You were rendered the smallest thing for him.

"Satoru," you moaned, mindlessly grabbing onto his shoulder blades.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." He kisses you, tenderly, heavily contrasting the savage speed of thrusts.

You whimpered into the lip lock. Your heels dug into the mattress and your toes curled from the intensity of the pleasure you felt. Your breathing became heavier but Satoru refused to unlink his lips from yours. He couldn't when the sounds you made tasted like heaven on his tongue. His own sounds mingled with yours, a harmony that let you know that you weren't the only one feeling good. He was rutting into you, a telltale sign that he was about to cum.

"Mmm..." he hums, before unlatching his lips from yours. He panted as he watched you unravel beneath him, the smallest pinch between your brows as you gushed on him again. The way your walls spasmed around him had him following right after, another load painting your walls.

He grinned at you devilishly, the expression followed by a bright and sunny, airy chuckle. He pulls out of you, and looks down to watch your combined fluids slowly ooze out of you.

"Damn, you really tried putting a baby in me." You sigh, heavily, immediately regaining his attention. "Why do we fuck like this every time?" You rub your eyes, your sleepiness coming back around.

"I'll get one in there someday." He rubs his palm over your stomach. "And also, it's always like that because I love the face you make when you cum and you love the process of giving me that sight." His eye conveyed a seductiveness to their expression that kept you in check.

Your face goes red, warm to the touch. "Shut up." You sit up and playfully shove him.

"I get to cover you in semipermanent kisses, too." His hand comes up to the side of your neck and his fingers trace the red smudges that will darken over time. You roll your eyes, yet still put your hand over his, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

"We should shower. It's almost five in the morning." You ignore the mischievous glint in his eyes and the way he's obviously trying to suppress a boyish grin.

"Carry me, please?"

Satoru chuckles, knowing exactly why you want him to carry you.

[yuujispinkhair]

Yuuji rubbing your clit in intensive pace while sucking on your nipple like a baby! Staring at your face expression like a hawk! Gawdddddddd!!! Can ya hear me scream?!!?? -☆

OMGGGG ANON, I AM LOSING MY MIND!!! 🤤🤤💗💗

Yuuji x Reader (female). Smut + Fluff. 18+, a bit of manhandling + overstimulation, Yuuji cums untouched. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact.

Yuuji is moaning around your nipple while sucking sweetly on it, truly as if he is trying to get some milk out of your pretty tits. His hips buck against the mattress needily, making him leak through his boxer briefs, smearing his sticky pre-cum all over the sheets, but he isn't even aware of it.

All Yuuji can think about is how hot it is to make you feel good and how pretty you look when he moves his fingers like that, massaging your swollen clit in a way that makes you so wet for him and mewl so cutely.

You gasp his name, and your hands land on his pink hair, tugging on it as your body arches up against him, pressing your sweet tits even tighter against Yuuji's hungry lips. And Yuuji moans and pushes his thumb under the hood of your hot, puffy clit, rubbing unrelenting circles on it as you tremble beneath him, and your breathing becomes louder and harsher every second.

But you're a sweet girl. You don't look away, even as your mouth opens in an o shape and your expression turns into your orgasm face, feral and fucked out, so fucking beautiful!

And Yuuji drinks it up. Those pretty, honey eyes watch you unashamedly and with such a horny and, at the same time, love-drunk expression. Sweet Yuuji just LOVES to make you feel good. Nothing gets him hornier than seeing and feeling you cum for him.

He keeps massaging your clit feverishly, rubbing every last bit of your orgasm out of you, not missing any second of it as you twitch wildly beneath him and sob his name. And Yuuji moans with you, his spit drooling over your swollen nipple as his hot cum pulses into his boxer briefs.

Fuck! He loves you so much! Nothing could ever be as pretty as your face when you cum! Yuuji sobs softly, latching onto your sensitive nipple again, suckling on it while his hand caresses your twitching and soaking-wet cunt lovingly.

He can't help it. Yuuji's cock is already throbbing again at the beautiful, fucked-out expression on your face.

Please don't be mad at him if he uses his weight and strength to hold you down and rub a few more orgasms out of you. It's just so addictive to hear your cute moans and feel you gush all over his fingers. Yuuji could spend all day making his sweet girl cum 💗