#with his shirt slipping off and everything

[faylvrs]

holding you , holding me ✿ bllk men

﹒postscript : when they realise they’re in love, with you. ɞ‎ feat. nagi, reo, rin, karasu, shidou, sae, kaiser ɞ‎ cw fem reader in a few, banter, suggestive

nagi realises he’s in love with you when the late night calls start getting more frequent. he had started craving your presence more and more. hell, he felt lovesick.

“what a hassle..” nagi’s head flops against the bed sheets, his gaze constantly shifting to his phone to see if you’ve replied to his text yet.

the nagi waiting for your texts? not to mention texting first, call a man whipped!

”i only take a few second’s to reply..” nagi picks up his phone again, grumbling when his notifications are empty. if he replies as soon as you do, why do you have to spend the next 3 decades replying back?

nagi’s usually the one who replies and then logs on minecraft for hours. him replying in mere seconds at your texts—you’re definitely special. very special in his eyes, oh. there’s something else that caught his eyes.

nagi’s phone lit up with a notification, from you.

sure! it’s a date then :))

cool, :x. 7PM?

reo realies he’s in love with you when his pockets really start to hurt.

i mean really. he’s been spoiling you relentlessly for the past few weeks. even if you insist you don’t need a new shirt, by tomorrow your closet is filled with them.

you just can’t seem to escape his mind. whenever he walks by the street and spots a store, his first thought goes to you, that maybe you’d like this. that maybe he should buy it for you—of course he will.

“you know.” reo smiles at you as you try on the new necklace he bought for you. “i booked a dinner for us, just us.”

“oh?” you hum, still struggling with the hook. “can you help me?”

“sure.” he’s more than happy to help you hook your necklace—a chance to put his hands on you? he’ll take it gladly.

“so about that dinner..” his hands swiftly clasp your necklace around your neck. “are you coming or what?”

“i don’t know… the mikage reo taking me out?” you grin up at him. “im a little shy.”

you and reo laugh soundly, well, looks like you’ve got a date tonight.

rin couldn’t believe it.

he’s in love with you, playback—he’s in love.

it started off with smaller details, like how he would leave his soccer practice or gym earlier than usual to see you. and also how his messages app slowly started to become his most used app.

soccer wasn’t everything anymore, he had you too now.

“don’t make me waste money on this lukewarm shit ever again.” rin gruffed as he watched you sip the drink he had bought you from the convenience store earlier.

normally, he’d never waste his money on some useless milkshake from the store, that’s not even good for your body. but seeing you contentedly gulp at the fresh taste of your drink, he can’t seem to hold himself back.

“give me some.”

the words slip out of his tongue before he can control them.

“you wanna try?” well he’s definitely colored you surprised now. “come here then, rinnie.”

rin could feel his face slightly heat up at the nickname. he scoots closer to you, snatching the drink from your hand with no warning.

“hey!” you glare at him as he drinks the entire thing in one gulp, definitely not what you anticipated. “that was mine, you were supposed to take a sip.” you huff at him.

rin only rolls his eyes. “i paid for it. ill buy you a new one later.” your eyes sparkle at his words.

“fine, you win.” you smile. “im going to get going before you become grumpy and tell me to shoo.” you give him a teasing wink, about to get up from his couch when suddenly he grabs your arm.

“wait.” he grits his teeth, biting back words. “don’t go.”

“rin?”

“just, don’t.”

“you missed me, huh?” karasu smirks. he had his hair down, for once not put up with an insane amount of gel—karasu in all his glory.

“i didn’t.” you huff at him. “you look even uglier with your hair down.”

“yer’ comparing my beauty to your birds nest?” karasu crosses his arms, leaning against the door.

“oh, we can see them split ends girl.” you roll your eyes.

karasu has always loved bantering with you, but nowadays, it seems as if his heart has been telling him thats not the only reason his heartbeat speeds up whenever he’s around you.

he loves bantering with you, he loves you.

there’s a prolonged silence, karasu’s anticipating if he should say what he’s about to say. he usually isn’t this nervous—you’re the exception to that.

“you think you wanna go out sometime, yeah?” it’s the way his sharp eyes soften that makes your heart start doing flips.

“yeah, i do.”

there’s a moment of comfortable silence, your brain ingraving the memory in the back of your head. which of course, quickly gets ruined by his cocky smirk. he wasn’t the best at dealing with these moments

“even y’can’t resist my charm.” karasu sticks his tongue out at you. “ill pick you up at 9.”

“you… get back here!”

shidou could feel a wide grin on his face as he read your message—“sure, i’d love to go sky diving with you!”

anybody would of said that is a crazy idea for a first date, but you? you can say you definitely match his freak.

his heart explodes into a burst of enthusiasm whenever you’re around him. he can feel a rush of serotonin whenever you accidentally brush your hands against his.

oh he was so in love. he is definitely wifing you up when you deploy the parachute- how could he not when he feels like he’s going to explode with all these bottled up feelings.

he in fact had a very disappointed pout on his face when you said it was far too soon for marriage, so what if you’re not dating yet? you can start now!

your betrayal will not be forgotten. but hey, he can try again next year.

sae realised he’s in love with you when you started becoming an avid figure in his daily routine.

it was like muscle memory for him to wake up and check for your good morning text, never failing to emit an amused scoff from his lips.

of course, he acknowledged the fact that he was in love with you. but would he dare entertain the thought and risk the beloved friendship you already have? never.

“nobody’s looking.”

this was dangerous. he has you trapped against the wall in the locker room, his lips tantalisingly close to yours. he wasn’t suppose to be doing this—but how could he resist when you came to see him at practice?

“sae…we can’t here.” you try to be rational, but your breathing is just as heavy as his.

“just shut-“

footsteps. someone was coming. sae pushes you away behind a locker so nobody see’s you, leaning against the wall nonchalantly.

maybe next time he’ll get you.

kaiser took some time to notice his feelings, but even he started getting self conscious of all the excuses he started making to touch you, and the flirting was starting to cross a few boundaries as well.

maybe he’s just lust-driven, that’s all he thought for a while. he chose to distance himself, and you didn’t miss the change in his behaviour.

he thought distancing himself would help ease his feelings.. not make them worse.

he can feel his heart throbbing, mind full with only thoughts of you—is it love or is it lust?

he doesn’t know, he’s never felt like this before. what even is love? thats stupid.

“hey.” he smirks, grasping your hand, a habit of his by now. “what are you up to, schatz?” the light-hearted pet name rolls off his tongue smoothly.

“michael.” you look at him, eyes widening a little. “i haven’t seen you in forever.” his expression slightly wavers at that.

“oh i’ve been.. busy.” he lies, smiling. the truth is, he hasn’t been busy at all. he’s been avoiding you, you and your precious smile.

“its okay.” you pat his shoulder. “i just missed you.”

“i missed you too.” he blurts out unknowingly, slightly flinching at what he said. “i’ve been avoiding you.” he confesses.

your eyebrow’s slightly raise at that. “…why?”

“because.. i don’t know.”

your hands hesitantly reach out. you knew how he was about physical touch, but maybe just this once he needs it.

he bents down a little, his face hitting your shoulder as he reciprocated your hug.

“Ich liebe dich.”

apologies, some parts aren’t as long as the others. i got lazy ( and have favorites… ✌️) only 7 chrc bc i had no ideas for isagi

[jeonginsleftcheek]

On Top(drabble)

a/n: i was peacefully writing my next dolly fic and hyunjin made me feral. that's it. you're in the hotel room with your bf after the concert hehe.

(if you saw me post this twice - no you didn't)

"You've been craving me all day, haven't you doll?" his voice was sultry as he leaned back on his elbows and looked at you.

Your thighs pressed together, a guilty look on your face as you've been riling him up with your texts and suggestive pictures during the live.

"Admit it." he smirked, laying down and looking at you with his eyes hooded.

"Yes. Been needing you all day, Jinnie."

"Climb on top then." he beckoned you with his fingers and you obeyed, making your way towards him.

Before you could sit on top of him, his legs wrapped around yours, stopping you.

"Take everything off for me." he said, his voice low.

Your face burned as you peeled your clothes off, now standing naked in front of your boyfriend.

You noticed a bulge already growing in his pants, making you gulp loudly.

"My clothes too." he grinned cheekily and you leaned down to unbutton and unzip his pants, sliding them off before doing the same with his shirt and boxers.

His cock slapped against his stomach, already leaking for you and he looked so delicious that you almost fell to your knees and took him in your mouth.

"Come on. Don't make me wait, doll."

You bit on your lip as you kneeled over him, hovering a little before you grabbed his cock, running his swollen tip against your wet folds.

"Been keeping that pussy all warm and wet for me, hm?" Hyunjin smirked, his eyes becoming cloudy with arousal.

"Yes, just for you Jinnie." you whimpered, finally pushing his length inside your warmth, slowly sitting down on him until he filled you up completely.

"Good girl. Always taking my cock so well." he said, folding his hands behind his head.

"Mm." you whimpered, your pussy clenching around him, arousal coating his throbbing cock.

"J-Jinnie." you whined making him chuckle.

"Fuck yourself on me, doll." he said and you moaned as you started swiveling your hips on top of him.

He looked at you with eyes full of lust as they traveled from your face to your perky breasts all the way down to where he was filling you up.

"Sucked me right in, hm. So needy for me, aren't you?" he bit on his lip.

"Y-yes, need you Jinnie." you babbled, already gone just from the stretch.

"Prove it. Show me how much you need it." one of his large hands ended up on your thigh, squeezing you for encouragement.

You braced yourself with your hands on his chest as you started to fuck yourself on him, lifting your hips up and slapping them down on his as you used him like a human dildo.

"Yeah, harder baby, I know you can." Hyunjin grabbed a handful of your ass making you moan loudly as you started fucking yourself faster on his cock, the tip hitting that delicious spot inside you.

The sound of skin slapping skin was so loud in the room, your slick coating his cock and balls, making it easy for him to slip in and out as you fucked against him.

Hyunjin moaned lowly, now grabbing both your thighs before his hands ran up your waist to your breasts, cupping them and squeezing.

"Who does this little pussy belong to?" he smirked, playing with your nipples.

"Y-you, you Hyunjin." you moaned, so close to your release.

"And these pretty tits?"

"All yours." you threw your head back, fucking on him harder as you felt that familiar build up inside you.

"Are you gonna cum on my cock?" he smirked at you.

"Yes, oh my god! Please!" you moaned.

"Good girl, cum for me." he moaned too, but you were struggling, your thighs burning and pussy clenching so hard around him that he was dangerously close to cumming too.

"I-I can't." you whimpered with tears in your eyes.

"Need Jinnie's help, baby?" he cooed at you almost mockingly.

"Yes, please." you begged making him chuckle.

"Hold onto my hand, doll." you gripped his hand, his fingers entwining with yours, his other hand on your hip.

A broken sob escaped your lips as Hyunjin started fucking up into you, grunting as his tip kept brushing your cervix.

Soon, you came all around his cock, your juices spilling everywhere on his crotch as you whimpered.

"Did so well." Hyunjin groans, gripping both of your hips.

"You're gonna take my cum now." he smirks lazily before digging his nails into your skin as he started fucking up into you hard, making you see stars.

You whimpered in overstimulation as Hyunjin came, filling you up with his warm cum and fucking it up into you.

He sat up, grabbing your face to kiss you, his tongue licking at yours before he leaned back, smirking at you.

"Just so you know, we're not done yet."

had to do this hehe💅🏻

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust

[florihye]

⠀⠀⠀✿⠀ LINGERING ⨟ surprising your long-distance boyfriend.

爱⠀⠀ ⟡⠀ 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝑤𝑐���15Ox7⠀⠀꣑ৎ ⠀⠀엔하이픈 & f!r⠀⠀⠀──⠀⠀⠀ 𝑓 ⦂ fluff,⠀non idol au,⠀ estab. rl,⠀skinship,⠀ kisses⠀⠀╱⠀⠀⠀❛⠀𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑟𝑏𝑙𝑔⠀⠀✦⠀⠀𝒄𝒍𝒾𝒄𝒌.

⠀LEE HEESEUNG ꣑꣒

when you first knock on his apartment door, he’d begrudgingly tread towards the door, but at soon as he sees you, his perfect girl (even if you’re in sweats and your hair is a mess from the flight), he would immediately drop everything and run up to you, his heart reeling and his mind too overwhelmed with love to form a sentence.

heeseung would gently but quickly wrap his arms around your waist, picking you up and pushing you against the wall for balance before kissing you again and again, as if you’d disappear if he stopped.

the room filled with your giggles as you sported a foolish, love-struck grin that matched his. your hands found purchase on your boyfriend’s shoulders. “hee, what—“

your words were cut off by a sweet but telling kiss to the lips and you took the opportunity to lean your body closer onto heeseung’s.

eventually, heeseung pulled back, the smile still evident on his face and in his eyes as he placed his forehead on yours and murmured “i missed you so much.”

you laughed, breathless. “i missed you more, hee.”

⠀PARK JONGSUNG ꣑꣒

stumbling over his words, jay’d gawk over the sight of you at his doorstep, all bundled up with your expectant arms outstretched for a hug.

his mouth widened and he pulled you closer, placing a small kiss at the top of your hair; you tittered.

“i missed you so much, i don’t know what to say. i didn’t expect you to show up— but i’m glad you did!” he rambled on and on, his eyes locked on yours with his hands resting your shoulders, not even noticing the way you shivered in the cold.

“you’re so cute, jay. but let me in, maybe? i’m literally freezing.” you said.

jay blinked, processing your words. “oh, yes! right, come in, baby.” he ushered you in and you chuckled. “’m sorry, i just can’t—”

“it’s okay, i understand, you dork.” you teased affectionately, pulling on his sleeve. “i can forgive you… if you make me hot chocolate? with lots of the little pink marshmallows.”

jay simpered over you; more than anything, he missed your silly personality, so having it back was like a dream come true.

“anything for you. at least for the next 24 hours.”

⠀SIM JAEYUN ꣑꣒

you whispered a soft ‘shh’ to layla, jake’s golden retriever as you tried to stay quiet in the dark stillness of his apartment, practically shivering with excitement at the thought of surprising your boyfriend.

a few seconds later, the door swung open, followed by a loud sigh as the lights flickered on. jake, initially startled by seeing your figure in the dark, stood frozen, stunned by the unexpected sight of his girlfriend.

you giggled at his expression—wide eyes with a dropped jaw. before another sound could escape your lips, jake ran up to you, sweeping you off the ground and spinning you around, ignoring your squeals of surprise.

after a good minute or so, jake finally put you back on your feet, but his hands still lingered on your waist, holding you close.

“i missed you.” jake sighed into your hair before lifting his head off yours. “when did you even get here?”

you smiled up at him with a shrug. “a while ago.” your fingers toyed with his shirt collar, as you stared up at him through your lashes. “i wanted to surprise you. i did, didn’t i?”

jake squinted his eyes at you before playfully rolling them, laughing. “i s’pose.”

you scoffed, offended and pushed on jake’s chest away from you slightly. “oh please, you’re such a bad liar; you can’t even stop smiling!”

⠀PARK SUNGHOON ꣑꣒

you stepped into your boyfriend’s silent apartment, spotting sunghoon seated on a stool at his countertop, his wired earbuds in.

slowly, you crept up behind him, slipping your arms around his neck and over his eyes, resting your chin on his head. “guess who?”

sunghoon flinched at your touch and shrugged your arms off, seemingly not realizing who you were. “who—”

as soon as his eyes landed on you, however, his furrowed eyebrows raised, his eyes softened, and a shy grin replaced his scowl. “oh, hi.”

sunghoon stood up with a lopsided grin, his hands running through his hair. you didn’t waste a second to wrap your arms arm his waist, tip-toeing to place a grateful kiss on his lips.

as you pulled away, sunghoon’s lips lingered on yours, unwilling to pull away. his eyes traced your face tenderly, making your heart feel heavy.

you scoff playfully and pout. “wow, i fly 12 hours to see you and all i get in return is a few blank stares?”

sunghoon snapped out of his daze and grinned at your antics. “you know i missed you.”

you rolled your eyes. “whatever you say.”

“i did, though! honest.” sunghoon says, poking your side as you yelped before bursting into laughter.

⠀KIM SUNOO ꣑꣒

“sunoo!” you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. you had planned to surprise him, but it’d been at least 5 minutes since he first saw you, and the only thing he’s done is gawk at you. your arms started to hurt from holding them out for an unreceived hug.

sunoo blinked. “oh! right!” he chuckled sheepishly and quickly grabbed your slightly lowered arm, pulling you into his grasp. “whoops.”

you gently gripped onto the hairs at the back of his neck and gently pulled his face down to yours, connecting the distance between the both of you’s’ lips with a small but expressive kiss.

as soon as you pulled away, sunoo tapped your nose, making you scrunch it. “i missed you. did you really travel, like, millions of miles to surprise me?”

you shrugged and blushed, distracting yourself from sunoo’s gaze by focusing on the stray hairs that lay on his forehead.

“because i love you.”

just then, the comforting silence was disrupted by your giggles.

sunoo scrunched up his brows, “what?” he asks, looking into your eyes.

“you just looked so… stupid standing there, all surprised like that.” you teased, mocking sunoo’s previous expression. sunoo, suddenly very red in the face and pouting, pushed you off him very gently.

“well, don’t blame me, you looked so pretty, i couldn’t help it.” sunoo shrugged innocently, and now it was your turn to get all red.

“okay, whatever…”

⠀YANG JUNGWON ꣑꣒

“hi, you.” you placed your hands on jungwon’s shoulders and tilted his head back to face you, his perplexed expression making you laugh a little.

as soon as he saw it was you, he looked unsure what to do, but it’s a good thing he didn’t have to think much longer, because you promptly jumped onto him, and jungwon reflexively caught you.

“are you really here?” jungwon questioned, a bit dumbly.

you giggled, gripping onto his shoulders as you stared down into his surprised eyes. “i’m literally all over you, won.”

jungwon beamed, “well, still. i can’t believe my pretty girl is back in my arms.”

you couldn’t hide your flustered face, so you decided to do the next best thing: shut your boyfriend up with a kiss.

thankfully, he didn’t mind all too much. in fact, he quite enjoyed the pleasant act of love.

“i missed you, too. a lot!” you admitted, watching as jungwon twirled a strand of your hair with his free hand, evidently not getting enough of you.

“i bet i missed you more.”

you raised a skeptical brow. “nuh-uh.”

“yes, and i’ll prove it.” and with that, jungwon took the opportunity to kiss you again, but longer this time, cupping your face with his hands. the warmth of his hands pressed against yours made you shiver, and you knew, more than ever, that you were glad to be back.

⠀NISHIMURA RIKI ꣑꣒

‘3:04 AM’ read the clock next to riki as he groggily pulled the covers off himself to go grab a cup of water. just before he got up, something — or rather, someone — startled him. a soft breath.

slowly and carefully, he turned around. he double took the sight in front of him with eyes wide like saucers.

it was his girlfriend. physically there, materialized in front of him.

“y/n! wake up!” riki shook you fervently as you groaned, rousing slowly.

“it’s not morning.” you pouted.

“who cares? what— how are you here right now?” riki moved his hands from your arms to your waist, feeling all over you as to make sure you were real and not a fabrication.

you giggled sleepily and laid your head back on his chest. “yeahh…” you slurred your words slightly. “i came back early. surprise.”

“but how?” riki said, still dumbfounded.

you frowned and lifted your head, locking eyes with him. “plane?”

riki rolled his eyes, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips to shut you up. “i hate you.”

“fine! i’ll just leave the—“

“no! that’s okay.” and with that, riki threw his arm over you and pulled you back down into bed, forgetting all about his thirst, which was replaced by a sudden gratitude for your presence.

TAGLIST @en-gelic @thenastone @xiaoderrrr @belovedsthings @en-ner-jay @tokyohrtz

NETWORK @a-dream-bookmark

[your-nanas-house]

Let me call you mine just for tonight

◇ Pairing: Robert Fischer X best friend fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: SMUT, riding, handjob, pathetic Robert, best friends, use of 'mama', kissing, sub!Robert/dom!Reader

◇ Summary: Robert needs a relief and asks his best friend for help.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. I haven't been so active lately because of uni and bit of a writer block. 🙏

"Please... Y/n, please" Robert begged with a pleading look, he had just arrived home from a stressful day filled with annoying meetings and unpleasant fights with his dad. His usual composed and neat appearance wasn't there at all, his hair were bit messy due to the stress, his shirt was partially open and his tie already loose.

The cold air of the weather outside was the cause of the soft blush on his face. His slight sniffing was another proof of the coldness of the air just like his freezing hands, which were resting on his best friend's thighs in an attempt to warm them up.

"Please..." the man repeated, giving a gentle squeeze at her warm leg. She could tell how desperate her friend was, just by looking at him.

The light but deep inhales and the tension on his jaw gave it away easily.

"I don't know, Robert. What it it changes everything and makes our friendship... weird?" the woman asked after a mid pause, bringing all her focus back on the previous topic as her mind kept wondering to the odd request of her friend.

'Should it really be worth an answer?' She pondered 'Should I agree to this random 'one night stand' supplication... a hook up with a childhood friend would bring just troubles, right?'

"Y/n, please. I beg you. Just... let me call you mine for tonight. Please— I-I-I owe you something" Robert's voice echoed in her head when he spoke after the awkward silence. He really seemed to need that, plus it wouldn't have hurt anyone since Y/n was single since ages now and he wasn't in a relationship.

"Fine, but.. I lead, and you won't take any initiative. Just be a good boy" she replied in a firm tone, wanting to take control over the situation and be sure to not be used as a simple fucktoy.

At the realization of the pet name, which slipped from her mouth, her mind and body slightly cringed internally. Her breath got caught in her throat as she waited for an unpleasant reaction from Robert.... but it didn't come. On the contrary, the man replied simply with a quick nod and a guttural whine that sent chills down her spine.

That situation could have ended in just two ways: with the end of their friendship or an added intimacy to their long bond.

Either way, they were both too far ahead to change their mind. Robert hands where already resting on her hips as he peppered light kisses on her neck, whining about needing physical love. His impatient hips thrusting slightly up as to convince her with a bit of teasing to not back off and keep going.

A way to prevent their rational part to come out and ruin everything.

"Robert" her tone was soft yet firm as she scolded his eagerness, reminding him the condition of their deal as her warm fingers ran down his neck to the first buttons of his white shirt.

The man's body was going on fire, his hands kept twitching as his breath got stuck in his throat at the soft teasing of his best friend. Her hands felt like heaven, and she was barely touching his skin. Maybe it was just because he was a bit too impatient, but he didn't care.

It took all Robert's strength to not move during her ministrations. He had to rest his head back against the sofa to be able to watch her better and let the feelings of lust and pleasure take over his whole body.

Her perfume had surround him fully, and her warmth could be felt through the fabric or his clothes while Y/n kept undressing him enough to not make things too intimate but still lustfull.

"Do you want me to get myself ready or..." she asked while undoing her friend's belt to open his pants and reveal still restricted boner. The woman didn't let him decide, though, sitting with her full weight on his lap after moving aside her thong to be able to feel the soft fabric of his white underwear against her. Mixing her juices with Robert's leaking pre-cum, which had already drenched the boxers.

Their lips were nearly touching, brushing teasingly against each other as their heavy breaths became one with closed eyes. Robert body twitched a couple of times, but he didn't move an inch, taking simply what she was willing to give him and not asking for more.

So he happily accepted the kiss, even allowing her to slip her tongue in his mouth as it got more and more intense. He could cum just by that... and the feeling of her dripping cunt which had now completely drenched the fabric with her slow but hard grinding.

"Just like that—" Y/n's voice praised softly, her hands moving the man's ones on her body, finally allowing him to kneed, caress, and rub her skin, whoever he prefered.

The rolling of her hips didn't stop, continuing in a pleasurable rhythm that was driving them both crazy. They felt like one due to the closeness and the intimacy.

Robert's hands, now warmed up, brushed her thighs to reach slowly under her skirt her clit. Pinching and rubbing it with a bit of experience to lead her to her first peak of the night.

As her body shook softly, arching perfectly as the pleasure washed over her, his cock twitched, dangerously reaching almost his climax while still tucked in his underwear

"Y/n, Y/n... please. I can't wait anymore, Mama, please" he cried out, buckling his hips against hers, emphasizing how close he was to his limit of endurance and encouraging her that way to hurry up.

Her fingers quickly pulled at the fabric, exposing now his hard-rock cock to the cool air. It was hard, resting against Robert's bare stomach, leaking shamelessly by the angry red tip. He couldn't really take it anymore, he needed to be inside of her.... yet he waited.

"Ok, ready?" Y/n asked softly, pumping his length a couple of times while rushing to put the condom around it with his help. As they were both sure it was on correctly his hands flew on her hips, grabbing them in a tight grip as she slowly lowered herself on his cock, sinking further and further till he was fully and safely in.

"I don't know if I can last any longer" Robert whined out pathetically, his lips swollen from his constant biting. He was breathing heavily, sweat was rolling down his forehead. He was close... too close.

"Y/n!—" the man nearly screamed out as his friend started to bounce, rolling her hips to get the right angle.

"Don't you dare, Robert" her harsh tone made his eyes close, his hips thrusting up faster and pathetic whines started to leave his mouth even louder. He knew she wanted to come first, but he didn't know for sure if he was capable of resisting any longer.

Please please please, his begs echoed in the room as Y/n started to rub quickly her clit never stopping her hips.

Please please please and he was spilling himself in the condom, his body shaking at the feeling of the squeezing of her warm walls cause by the intense orgasm she just had.

They were both breathing heavily, their hearts beating like crazy as the adrenaline kept tingling in their bodies. Robert's head had dropped against Y/n's chest, allowing her to sooth and cuddle him.

"Thank you..." He whispered out.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XL. “priorities”

parts: previous / next

plot: Bruce’s priorities shift, unwittingly meeting you right where you are.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, sexual content/yearning, mention of deaths in the family, mention of illness, mention of unstable sense of reality, subtle mention of past suicide attempt

words: 5.7k

a/n: all i’m saying is you all are gonna like this one 😇 !! the subtle mention is very subtle, basically Bruce mentions NOT wanting to die, and a single line of discomfort about not remembering it.

“Oh, Y/N. I would’ve made more if I knew you were coming.”

Though everything looked the same, it felt different. The constant thrum of your clamoring heart made the shadows brighter and the rooms suffocatingly small. Whatever dish boiled in a gleaming silver pot on Alfred’s stovetop smelled stunning, but you didn’t have time to catch up with him before Bruce motioned for you to follow. As embarrassing as it was to your pride, the image of his head gesturing up a grand staircase, loosely toward his bedroom, was the wind the butterflies in your stomach sailed upon. Gripping the railing far too tightly, your unsteady legs followed. 

Your energy channeled between his shoulderblades, praising each step climbed, celebrating the ripples in his back with each shift of his weight. His feet pulled you enough out of the stupor to be lucid when they surprised you with a right turn. The blood rushed from the tips of your fingers. Between this and the backseat, these insinuations seemed a blatant mockery.  “Gonna change. If you go up two more levels, it’s the first door on the left.” 

You knew it was unseemly to think like this, with the guilt pulsing in the background of every breath, but you were powerless to the whims of your mind. Rather than follow his instruction, you paused to stare at his shut bedroom door. Thoughts of him pulling off his shirt and slipping off his pants made your mouth pool with saliva. Though you’d never, standing here in this sinful haze left you wondering what might transpire if you walked in and laid across his sheets. 

Forgetting he had an alter ego that prized himself on being an unofficial emergency responder, you startled when he stepped out not thirty seconds later. You pretended to retie your shoe, and let him lead again. He never strayed from that same outfit: a tattered black tee and loose black pants. You found yourself fixated on his lack of footwear, drinking up any and all of his visible skin, holding the railing with increasing fervor. The skin on his neck looked especially inviting, as it was arguably the most well-protected space on him. It was so hard to smell him with the fragrance of Alfred’s dinner cutting through the air, and the desire to had you eating your words when he stopped and you bumped into his back. He was so dense, and his detergent, body wash, shampoo, sweat… whatever it was stole your oxygen. Wordlessly, you sped past him through the open door and planted on the far end of the couch like a new pet trying to make itself invisible. 

Bruce walked to the counter, and at such an angle that he could see if you stared at him. You forced your gaze to travel the room and admire the enormous flatscreen across the way—its vast, blank screen reflected the image of you and him totally and completely alone in the empty room. A plush rug gave a good bounce to your impatient, nervous feet. You hoped he had more sense than you tonight; if he gave a single cue of reciprocation, you’d fold. As impossible as the thought was. 

“Want anything?”

A few bags of candies sat on the counter above a softly whirring mini fridge. You grinned at his thoughtfulness, and more at the image of him perusing a candy aisle. He stared at you like he’d hear you speak a single decibel. It was so cute. And you were down a dire amount to be thinking that way. “Do you have any caffeine?” 

His ensuing laugh was buried under his breath, but it jostled around in your gut with a sharp, bright merriness. Of course he had caffeine. “Yeah. I’ll grab some.” 

It was awfully fun to watch him leave. The ability to stare at him without risking him seeing you was thrilling. The realization had hit and left you like a live-wire; attuned to every syllable of his words, every step that he took, even the smell of him and the scent of the new couch you were sitting on. The room looked sterile, like an Ikea showroom. He hadn’t put it together just for you, had he? Why would he do that? 

You already heard footsteps in the hallway. So swift. The sound rushed adrenaline to your already frenzied brain as if it were an emergency. How close would he sit? Could you look at him without blushing? He’s gonna hand me the drink… yes! You considered lingering, but how long would be too long? Could you pull off putting your hand over his and pretending you misjudged hand placement? Would you have the guts to do that? How would he react? 

He appeared in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the right side of the frame. His already tall body looked even larger against it. He crossed his legs with the pose, which straightened his hips toward you. You could’ve fainted, and your body grew warmer.

“Think of a movie?” He tossed you a Red Bull, and you pulled together a grin to even out the frown that threatened to dominate. Dammit. He grabbed a remote from the top of the TV and wandered over to the couch, where you floundered a response through held breath. 

“I thought you could pick it.” 

He sat closer than before, but not a distance that soothed your mounting desire. Enough to be thrown and calculating how loud your breathing was, but not enough to feel the warmth off his skin, or truly bathe in the smell of him. Why were you so obsessed with memorizing his scent? You wanted to lean in and indulge in the selfish enjoyment of getting to see him so close, but he wasn’t saying anything, which left you scrambling, and your anxiety took the wheel. 

Bruce struggled not to make it obvious that he was fiddling with the remote to buy time. It felt ridiculous telling you he couldn’t think of any movies; that he’d essentially stopped watching them entirely once his parents died, because it was the one activity they did together, regularly, as a family. Without words to fill the space, he tried to make it look like he was deciding which service to log onto. 

He pulled up an on-demand video site, and before you gave the obligatory hey, those cost money for a single view, let’s choose something on streaming, you remembered he was a billionaire. With such low stakes you wanted to joke around, be silly, tell him to close his eyes and randomly stop on something, but your throat was tight.

“Anything stand out?”

Something did: the remote had a circular scroll tool, his thumb moving in tight circles as he flipped through movies. Slowing down, speeding up, switching directions… your thighs pressed together instinctively. 

“What about this one?”

Left in a trance from the subtle movement in his wrist, and the nearly imperceptible movement up the inside of his forearm as he massaged it, meant you didn’t internalize his question enough to give an answer. His hands were so warm fresh out of gloves, but you imagined they might be cooler now, a salve to the burning heat that gathered in your core. Would he talk to you while he touched you? Would he be silent, forcing your moans to be the only sound between you? 

Hearing him say your name made you clamp down on your tongue, wanting to sprint out of the room before you screamed. You muttered something about ‘yeah, sounds good’, desperate for him to stop scrolling so you could reign it in before you did something reckless.

And so it was for the next half hour. Trying not to squirm, trying to control your breathing, and desperately fighting lewd thoughts that wanted to break the fourth wall. It was exactly the childlike feeling of avoiding-but-not-avoiding a crush. The sneaking glances, overanalyzing their body language or if they looked at you, if they didn’t, how close their hands were, if you were coming off ‘weird’. So peculiarly placing you back to feeling like an awkward, shy kid.

Bruce broke the bubble of the latest headline in your thoughts—how woody and delicious he smelled, and if the scent would linger after a particularly intense uh, session—and turned toward you. He paused the movie, your thundering heartbeat surely filling the room with its bass-boosted echoes. “You’re not interested.”

You couldn’t look up at him. You’d melt more than you already were. His voice was too concerned, with that constant edge of being matter-of-fact that made your gut twirl. “It’s fine. I’m just. Distracted.” By the thought of your hands on me. 

Goddammit, you felt his eyes studying you. It didn’t help your fragile, racing heart, and the timing couldn’t have been worse with the activation of the caffeine throttling it anyway. You chose to instead focus on the accomplishment of your words coming out stronger than a squeak. You felt caged by the goosebumps that painted your skin at the mere sight of his hands.

 “Let’s talk.”

Jesus, fuck. A piece of hair fell in your face and you wanted to move it away, but lifting your hands from their forceful clamp atop your legs revealed their tremble. Against all better judgment, you jumped off the cliff. “Sure.” 

You twisted toward him and your mouth went dry. So pathetic, I’m so fucking pathetic… your eyes trailed from his jaw to his mouth, from his cheeks to his eyes. Your shoulders pulled inward when you wondered how disheveled you must look from the flight, and the stuffy city hall foyer lacing sweat to your skin. Your eyes dropped to his lap as soon as they’d landed on his unwavering eye contact. Suddenly the brazen behavior of the women at city hall seemed a lot more admirable. They’re so much braver than I am. 

“How’s your head? Your leg?” 

Were you ovulating? Was he testing some new pheromone to use on the people he fought? You felt impossibly agreeable right now, a cloud drifting closer to the light of the moon. You blushed. “Better.” You were too nervous being under his attention to say any more. Sitting with a broken pencil but too nervous to stand in line behind your crush at the sharpener. 

In the corner of your vision, his eyes narrowed; only slightly, but enough. Enough to imagine what moves you could pull on him to recreate it. You would’ve never, ever thought you’d feel this way. He’d never reciprocate, no, and you didn’t really want him to. Then you’d have to answer the guilt, and interrogate how fleeting this enchantment was before falling into his bed. For all you knew your brain was keeling over itself from sleep deprivation. 

Yeah… you felt your hands steady and moved your eyes down to take another sip. Endless nightmares cruelly stealing your rest had left you unstable and reeling. 

“Still having nightmares?” It wasn’t uncommon for him to ask about injuries before he left a scene; it felt routine and distant, no matter how gruesome their response might be. But with you he was invested—he needed to know you were alright, and how he could help if not. You jumped when he asked, and he didn’t know why.

You scraped at your cuticles. Open up. I’ve wanted him to. “Yeah. Freaked out my parents over the weekend.” Your mouth shook by the last word, cementing that your responses needed to be shorter than ten words until you could get your bearings. The room was starting to spin. You wanted Bruce to catch you.

“What helps?” He was asking too many questions. Unsettling you. You seemed uncomfortable, and he didn’t want this to feel interrogative… did he know how to talk to someone in a way that wasn’t interrogative? He endured another white-hot moment of feeling subhuman before you spoke.

“It was nice having someone there.” You rubbed your arm, pulling it close to your chest. 

“I’m usually up if you need someone.” He watched your blush deepen, your fingers moving from rubbing your arm to clenching. He felt terrible. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to resist the urge to rescue you, and felt like a broken record. “You’re not forcing me.”

“There’s no way to untie them. Me knowing, all this. I mean, c’mon.”

“C’mon what?” Another question. Stop that.

You sighed, oblivious to Bruce’s harassment toward himself, too busy directing it inward. “Every time I’ve been here you’ve hated it. And I don't blame you. But you keep doing it.”

“I don't hate it.” But what more could he say when you’d overheard him with Alfred? Could his words be a bandage when his actions were so cutting? God, it felt strange to have personal history with someone.

“Don't like it.” You hated when he tried to play nice. Acting like your presence wasn’t menacing and disruptive. You knew he’d rather be out as Batman right now, but he was compelled to humor you in a room he hadn’t done more than pass by in years.

Your face had the slightest pout to it. It… hurt. He forced his shoulders to relax, sensing you might feed off his tension. “I'm coming around.”

You sighed, and his ears perked to its timbre. “What about you? How have you been?” 

“Fine.” His shoulders tensed again. 

“I’m starting to think that means ‘bad’.”

He side-eyed you, a flicker of something sweeping his eyes. “What's my favorite color?” 

“… Black?”

“Orange. Was starting to think you could read minds.”

He leaned back into the couch and put his hands in his lap. When you managed the courage to look back at him, he grinned. It didn’t reach his eyes, and it ached to see him force it. You swallowed a grimace, with no concept of how effectively you’d masked it. “Trying to make me comfortable?”

He paused. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I don't see you making anyone else comfortable. Alfred seemed shocked to see me.”

If only you knew you were the only guest he’d ever had over. You’d probably think he was a freak, if you weren’t already thinking it. “He’d be shocked to see anyone. More shocked if it wasn’t you.”

“Not a lot of people come over?” Your eyes glinted with amusement, the first genuine sass he’d heard from you in days. 

“Constantly.”

“Mmm.”

Silence hung thickly between you. Seconds passing like minutes, minutes passing like hours. “… I don't do this. Like I said.”

“Keep to your own, I get it.”

Bruce’s face twitched like he was about to speak, and his lashes fluttered when he didn’t. It relieved you to know he still got a rise out of you, and you clung to that rope of indignance for dear life. “Say it.”

“What do you think I’m gonna say?” His brows were set to a loose glare, more confused than angry. 

“Something about how I shouldn't feel bad.”

His glare tightened, though his tone was gentle. “Why won’t you believe it?” 

“Guess it’s my own guilt.”

“What if I forgive you?”

You drew a sharp breath that stung the lining of your lungs. Forgiveness for the least of your crimes was the opposite of relieving. “Still there.”

“What if we kept talking anyway?”

“Is that what you want? Not what you feel like you have to do?” As far as tearfulness was concerned, it was easier to speak than let his sentence linger. Where did the grumpy, rude stranger go? 

“Could say the same to you.”

You folded your trembly hands together in your lap, still avoiding looking at him directly. “I asked first.”

His eyes followed your hands that were clenched far too tightly. He ached to reach out and touch them. To feel you soften. “I like knowing you’re safe.”

He watched your shoulders shrug. “I like knowing you’re safe.”

Silence visited again. He knew he’d have to be the one to break it, given your jittery leg and white-knuckled grip. Good exposure. “How do we move past that?” 

This wasn’t fleeting. This wasn’t your mind creating stories off of sleep deprivation. Your ears clung to every millimeter of insinuation, spinning his words in the naughtiest ways possible. Hearing him refer to you like you were a team was thrilling. And it was impossible to ignore the empathy and care that bubbled somewhere underneath it all. This clarity, however, didn’t fix the issue: both of you were caught in a standstill of chasing the other’s tail around Gotham. 

When you tried to think of ways to shift the conversation away from hypervigilance, you came up empty-handed—and you hit a bullseye. “Maybe the problem is we only know each other’s problems.” 

He shifted where he sat, and it was close enough to rustle the cushion beneath you. You ignored the whirl in your chest and the tingling of your fingers, and the tingling elsewhere when he blessed the room with his voice, and a question, that made your thoughts roam wild. “What do you want to know about me?”

Many things, but the most persistent of them: what was that already spoken for about at graduation? But you couldn’t say that. The only other non-explicit thoughts were the most bland and benign questions you’d been asked relentlessly over the summer by recruiters. “God, I keep thinking of interview questions.”

“Didn’t know you wanted me for another column.”

“Job interview.”

“Hit me.”

Where do you see yourself in five years? What are your weaknesses? “‘What are three words you’d use to describe yourself’?”

He started to count on his fingers. “Social,”

“Oh my god.” Without thought, you shoved his knee as you both chuckled. The contact left a singe on your palm.

“What do you think?”

You stilled. “About you?” 

He nodded, and you chanced a look at his face to see if there was anything hidden there. His face was neutral, but engaged. Surprisingly, the first words to crop up weren’t lustful whatsoever. At least, not until you said them aloud and overthought how he might receive them. “Discerning. Analytical. Intimidating.”

“What about me intimidates you?” He said, as he inched closer in a thoroughly non-intimidating fashion that definitely didn’t make your pupils dilate.

You shoved out a quick explanation while your heart skipped beats. If he ever did make a move, you were suspicious that you wouldn’t realize what was happening before you blacked out. “The first two.” 

Your pulse hammered in your throat as you pitched it back at him. “What about me?” You crossed imaginary fingers that he would say something obviously suggestive and break the dam. Maybe he’d say: My. Bedroom. Now. Oh, you needed to STOP!

“Perceptive. Investigative. Daunting.”

You hid your disappointment with a tease. “Those are just synonyms.” Does he not care to actually think about me? To tell me what he really sees? 

“I answered.” 

His tone was light, but the letdown consumed you. It was enough fuel to get you to clarify, always with an overlay of sarcastic, fun teasing, though you wanted to sink into the floor. “What about me is daunting?” You couldn’t be the first one to make a move, not with the lie, not with the meddling; yet another way of imposing yourself. 

“First two.” 

You couldn’t interpret his actions the way you wished; his tone was playful, but he was just parroting you. Giving you nothing outside of what you’d already given. Low-effort, low-interest. No longer shaking, you rested your hands flat to your thighs and met his eyes. Your heart glittered and twirled into the clear blue ice of his irises, but you swallowed the fireworks. His eyes made quick flight across the plane of your face, and you swallowed harder. You weren’t that girl. 

“Your turn, since you wanna be so creative.”

There was sadness in your eyes. You leaned back into the couch and he wanted to follow. He did his best to gulp it back, not wanting to get into the weeds of following an unplaceable shift. He knew the general answer to this, but with how miserable you were, and officially graduated, and interviewed, and finally, hopefully, at least slightly more comfortable with him, he wanted to dive deeper. “Why’d you come to Gotham?”

He nearly gasped when you broke the mutual gaze, like he’d been physically dropped. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about our problems.”

Back to picking your nails. “I’m curious. If it’s not too much.”

“My mom’s cancer. Got sick soon after I graduated. They had to use everything for the medical bills.”

His chest pinched at the slump that took over your body. His shimmered with anxiety; a prickly tension that shallowed his breathing and manipulated gravity to push him closer. “You wanted the scholarship here?”

“Yeah. But my family didn’t want me to come here. It started a huge fight, I… I’ve never seen my family like that.” He followed your absent eyes to where they drifted in the corner. An image of you crying while they screamed at you made his thoughts go white. “Happened at Thanksgiving, actually. Argued all night, all the way home, all weekend. Decided to take another gap year. Hoping maybe things would relax.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

You came back to your body with the tightening of your shoulders. “I don’t know, this stuff doesn’t even matter.”

“Please.” He leaned halfway through the space between you, withholding the extent of his plea. He cared a lot. An inordinate amount. After some hesitation, you talked about how your grandfather died at the end of that year, and you didn’t want to leave your grandmother. He envisioned you sat in some house in Washington while an old lady knit as you described spending the next two years with her. How gutted you were when she died. How grateful you were to be able to say goodbye, something you hadn’t experienced with your grandfather. How excruciating it was to sit in a grieving, sick household, and how you found refuge in community college classrooms soon after. 

Though most of his energy was spent feeling like a throbbing, aching heart bleeding in your lap, parts of him were refreshed to have someone talk with him about death that wasn’t his own. Since that day, everyone avoided talking about it like he’d split in two if someone reminded him that people die. But he remembered it alone, every single day. 

He ensured he didn’t look at you with pity, an effort that was initially intentional becoming second nature as he settled into your story. A soft rage lurked in the pit of his stomach at how easy it was not to isolate someone who was grieving. How simple it was not to squint your eyes and pout your lips like they were a sick puppy. How instinctive it was to sit and listen, instead of giving a gruff pat on the back or a dismissive shoulder tap before rushing away. It would’ve been so easy not to have that countenance engraved behind his eyes. It was easy for him not to do that to you. 

“I’m sorry about your grandparents. And the fighting.” He was sorry for the fighting he’d done with you, too. It was hard to say the apologies he so hated to hear, praying it was different coming from him. He hoped you knew he understood. That he could take it. You thanked him and after a tender silence, he nodded for you to continue. He didn’t know if you’d oblige for a few seconds, and a lump rose to the back of his throat. 

You carried him through another few minutes of delicate conversation; speaking of the flooding two years prior, and how people were leaving Gotham in droves. Talking about how you couldn’t believe the extra stuff they threw in; in addition to the free tuition, they began to offer free housing to eligible transfer students, desperate for any boost to the local economy. By that time you said your conflict avoidance was less painful than sitting in the tension, so you left. Wanted to see something outside of your town, and he mirrored your grin when you spoke of your grandfather as the only one who supported you going to Gotham. Your smile faltered when you said he’d always known you were ‘itching’ to get out of your small town. 

“You don’t agree?”

Your sigh could’ve moved mountains, instead it moved him. “Makes me sad to think so. I didn’t want them thinking I wanted to be rid of them. Just wanted to see something else too.”

He was certain your grandparents knew that, but didn’t know how to articulate it. “Now you’re here.”

The tension in your body deflated with the force of your scoff. “And how welcoming everyone’s been.”

“I’m sorry for my part in that.” He yearned to be someone you felt seen by. Someone you knew understood.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even, yeah.” You shifted away and sniffled. 

He didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to hear everything. That it was courageous how candidly you spoke of your pain, and there was nothing wrong with it. So he kept it cloaked and subtle, instead asking another question to let you know it was okay. “How’s your mom now?”

Your sniffles became tears that fell in straight lines down your flushed cheeks; yet another reminder of how uncomplicated it was to let someone cry. He couldn’t imagine telling you to ‘buck up’. Telling you to ‘get over it’, or ask ‘hasn’t it been years?’ It was so fucking easy. If anything, he was considering asking to hold you again, guiding your hands around his back to take it out on his shirt. He moved to say as much when your watery eyes met his. 

“You’re the only person who’s asked me about these things.” 

He’d never felt so tender. No one else? He didn’t know what else to do but apologize on the world’s behalf, and it fell out of him like getting kicked in the stomach. “I’m sorry.” It was hard to think as he felt his body shift into new territory, feeling the door lock behind him. 

You shook away his apology and continued, blinking incessantly from what he imagined to be stinging, tired eyes. They were red and bleary. “Still sick. Don’t know how bad. In a wheelchair now, but it helps her. Good to have. I don’t know.”

“You can keep talking.”

You choked out a scoff that was cradled in tears.

“I want to listen.”

He felt like he had levitated from his body when you quite literally spilled out before him. He heard the drop of your defenses with the cracked edges of your voice. “You know what helps?” You were breathing fast, and he’d unconsciously matched it. He wondered if you would say he did. He edged closer. 

“Your interview. The writing.” Him. He set his hand flat on the couch, right in the empty space between your hips and his. “Talking about how anxious you get in crowds. Feeling like you died with your parents. You’re actually naming the things everyone wants to hide.” His hands began to quiver. “Those thoughts swirl and circle inside me,” you were lost in your words. He was getting a portal to closely kept thoughts. Wow. “And I’ve felt insane my whole life… it makes me feel like you can hold it.” His breath caught. Yes, yes, you were seeing him. He could. He could hold it. He could hold you. “My dad can’t even say the word ‘cancer’. No one wants to talk about how sad they are. When I cry in front of others, they just…”

“Leave.”

You blinked at him. “Exactly. It feels horrible.”

“It does.” All those days with his face down in the pillow where he could hide his tears. All the nights where he wanted the world to swallow him up so he didn’t have to wake up with the pain, with no one to listen but Alfred, who always turned it into a lesson or a look to the bright side. Sometimes there wasn’t one.

“But you just let me be sad.” 

His lashes fluttered. He was overcome with weakness in mind, body, and spirit, like a snapped tourniquet. “I’m glad it helps. Glad I can…” he trailed off as he stared at your tear-studded lips, feeling a shiver at the base of his spine. His pulse pounded in his wrists and throat. You’d lit him on fire. 

“Tell me.” 

Your forgiving, sweet voice could unravel him, but right now it was pulling his grief to the surface. He stammered through damp eyes. “I’m not fine. It’s terrifying not to trust my senses.” 

Your hand cupped his elbow and the first tear fell. You followed it the same way he did yours. “It’s a big adjustment.” You squeezed his arm and his chin fell to his chest. “You rely on them so much with Batman, too.” 

“Completely. To make sense of cases and clues…” You shifted toward him, shoving your knee up to look at him more fully. He felt like he should shy away, but he didn’t want to. “How do I do that now? How do I trust myself ever again? When I see things that aren’t there, and misremember such crucial, dangerous…” you didn’t frighten when he ranted, his tone almost murderous. “I couldn’t remember the shooter that night. I still try, all the time, decades… that can’t happen again. It can’t.” 

Your smooth hands grabbed his, and he jumped. Your thumb ran over his knuckles, separating his mind from his body. The heat of vulnerability had him meet your eyes in a panic. He sprung forward and threw his arms around you, shoving his shaking body into the crook of your neck. His hands pressed hard into your back until he heard the tiniest whimper emanate from your chest. His eyes snapped open and he yanked back, flustered, panting, and painted with sweat. “Sorry, I didn’t ask–”

In a blink, he was in your arms again. Your body wrapped around his this time, squeezing his back harder than he had yours. He folded into you and let his body relax, his arms finding their place against your back once more. As you held him, he mourned how he’d ever find this again when you left. He spoke into your shoulder, muffling him. “I can’t believe I actually tried to. I don’t remember it. At all.” 

He felt you press firmer. He felt like your ribs might fuse. Your voice was right in his ear, closer than it had ever been. “Do you worry you’ll do it again and not know?”

His body all but went limp, and you fell together the few inches between your shoulders and the back of the sofa. “Which is strange.” With the snapping of the tourniquet, he no longer felt a weight tugging back attempts at honesty. The words formed on his lips, just as they did in his journals. 

“Why is it strange?” Your fingers rubbed his back with reassuring scrapes. His eyes drifted shut, and when he pulled you closer, he felt your heartbeat against his. 

“I’m not afraid to die. But I don’t want to do it to myself.” He felt tears rise again, and he gulped. For a few seconds, he felt the beats sync. It was surreal. Floating in a bubble of nirvana. “I want to know what’s happening to me. I don’t want to lose myself.” 

A sympathetic sound rumbled from your chest. “You haven’t seen any owls since starting treatment. Now you know what to look out for, you know? You can call me, or Alfred, or your doctor.”

His body tensed like he was on the edge of a cliff, but he’d never been more at ease. Your next speech was honeyed, tying a velvet ribbon around his heart. 

“You’re still discerning, and intuitive; that didn’t go away. You won’t ever stop being you. They can coexist.” You leaned your head against him, and he felt your mellow grin against his ear. “And I don’t pity you.” 

He took a deep breath. Your chest caved in to make space. He could kiss you. 

… He could kiss you.

“Bruce,”

Oh my god. 

“Your heart’s racing.” 

He loosened his grip on your back and pulled back his head to be side-to-side with yours. Electricity pulsed in the single inch between his lips and your neck. He gripped the fabric of your shirt into a loose fist, his blood rushing between his ears. All of his nerves and all of his courage gathered at the very back of his throat, narrowing it. Make a move. He needed to know you wanted this too.

He couldn’t bear to impose. You were just being kind… 

Kiss me. All earlier hesitation fell away. Please, please, please. 

He pulled back a little more, the tip of his nose brushing your ear. The world narrowed to his mouth and yours, but he couldn’t close the distance, or face you. Not when he was so lightheaded—but fuck, that was only getting worse. You were so sweet, so attentive, headstrong. How you looked when you argued with him, how that heat rushed to your ears, how indomitable you were, how sharp and soft you could be… your fingers curled into his back, and he accidentally sighed into your ear. Ask. 

“Master Bruce?”

He spun his head toward the door but you looked toward him, the opposing angles skimming your lips. Before either of you had time to react, Alfred appeared in the doorway. “Lieutenant needs you.”

His cheeks scorched as he hesitantly looked toward the old man, keeping his eyes low. Batman could wait a few minutes… maybe he’d don the armor on the drive. If he got up from this couch, he knew he’d never have the guts again. He’d rationalize away the breathless longing of sinking into your kiss, selfishly keep his touches to himself… “Can it wait?” 

“He’s here.”

[rainbow-beanie]

THERES SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS SCENE I’M LOSING MY MIND!!!!

The way blitz quickly slipped off the couch to hold his hands steady till he sat on the couch, the fact stolas is wearing his shirt, him apologizing thanking stolas for saving him, stolas replying with “always.” THE KISS ON THE CHEEK AND LINGERING TOUCH. not to mention how blitz most likely slept on the floor that night cause he knows stolas needs the little comfort he can get.

This episode ruined me, my stolitz heart feels like we won but are being punished at the same time. This episode was amazing and is everything I wanted, BUT THE COSTS!!

[sorcerer-felix]

I've never been the biggest guy about 5'5 and 180 Ibs. People think I am 10 years younger than I am (I'm 29). I wish I could be one of those huge muscular guys that has a commanding presence and oozes masculinity.

The gym buzzed with the sounds of grunting weights and the rhythmic thud of sneakers against treadmills. You watched, enviously, as the muscular men strutted around, their broad shoulders and commanding presence making you feel like a shadow in their midst.

You stood there in your oversized t-shirt, wishing you could be one of them—someone who could walk into a room and have everyone take notice. You were halfway through your lukewarm set of curls when you caught sight of Felix, the sorcerer. He was running on a treadmill, his blond hair flowing behind him like a golden banner.

You approached, half out of desperation and half out of curiosity. “Felix,” you said, slightly out of breath, “I wish I could be one of those huge muscular guys that has a commanding presence and oozes masculinity.” With a playful grin, Felix kept running. “That can be arranged, but it’s not just about appearance. It’s also about attitude. You need a mentor who shows you how to be commanding!” He paused his run, producing a tarot card. “Here, take this. It’s the Wheel of Fortune. If you find the right mentor, lay the card on the table and he will magically become your mentor and teach you everything you need to know!” You took the card, though skepticism nagged at the back of your mind. Still, you had nothing to lose.

Over the next few days, you wandered the gym, eyeing potential mentors. You’d approached some of the guys at the gym, hoping for guidance, but they were all brawn and no brains—mere meatheads with egos to match their muscles. Each encounter left you feeling more deflated. You wanted someone who could teach you not just how to lift weights but how to command a room, to embody the confidence that oozed from those muscular titans. Each failed attempt left you feeling more frustrated and disheartened. When you arrived at the office that day, the last thing you needed was Hank, your colleague. He strode in, exuding an air of arrogance that made your skin crawl. He was tall—towering, really—his muscles rippling beneath a fitted shirt that did little to hide his vanity. You hated him for it, yet a small part of you envied the way he filled the room with his presence. You despised him for his cocky swagger, but even more for the way his confidence made you feel small. "Hey, buddy," he said, stepping behind your chair, his voice a low rumble that dripped with condescension. You could feel the warmth of his body close to you, and his hands landed possessively on your shoulders. “Uh, Hank,” you started, trying to suppress the flutter of irritation in your chest. “Can you maybe not—” “Relax.” He leaned closer, peering at the screen. “What’s this? Your latest failure? Just look at this,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the discomfort.

Then, disaster struck. Suddenly, the tarot card Felix had given you slipped from your shirt pocket, fluttering to the desk like a fallen leaf. You watched in disbelief as it landed, the edges glowing a magical blue. “What’s that?” Hank asked, his tone shifting from casual to curious.

Before you could reply, the card began to glow with a magical blue light. You stared in disbelief as the image on the card shifted to reveal a young man in a black jumpsuit, opened to the waist, with a dog mask covering his face. The imprint read "The Dog".

Your breath hitched. “Wha—?” Your body began to shift, warmth enveloping you as if you were being wrapped in a cocoon. “No! Wait!” you gasped, but it was too late. You fell to your knees, your shirt and dress pants melting into the silky fabric of the jumpsuit. A mask materialized over your face, obscuring your features. Hank’s laughter echoed in your ears, deep and mocking. “I guess I will name you Rowdy!” he said, his voice booming with satisfaction. You wanted to protest, to scream and tell him to fuck off, but all you could manage was a muffled growl, the mask constricting your voice.

The transformation continued, and you felt your body reshape, fur sprouting from your skin. You whimpered, a sound that was no longer human, as you became a sleek black dog. You looked up at Hank, who grinned down at you, a smug satisfaction radiating from him. “Good boy,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

Hank’s voice became a beacon of command in your mind, and you found yourself craving his approval, yearning for his direction. “Let’s train, Rowdy,” he said, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “You’re going to learn how to fight.” Days turned into weeks, and the training was brutal. Hank pushed you to your limits, and each fight honed your aggression and dominance.

The damp, concrete cellar was a far cry from the polished gym where you once felt so small. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and blood, the walls echoing with the growls and barks of dogs locked in combat. You were now one of them—at least in the sense that your body has been transformed into dogs'. The weight of your new body felt powerful, but beneath that strength was a struggle against the obedience that Hank had drilled into you. “Rowdy!” Hank barked, his voice a commanding rumble that sent a shiver through you. You instinctively dropped to all fours, your muscles taut and ready, eyeing him with a mix of anticipation and resentment. “Get over here!” You couldn't help but follow, the instinct to obey surging within you. As you approached, drool dripped from your lips, a sign of your growing ferocity, but inside, a part of you seethed. “Damn it,” you thought, your mind fighting against the dog inside. Hank crossed his arms, watching you with a smirk. “You’re getting better, boy. Can’t wait to see you tear into that mutt tonight. You’ve got the spirit of a champion.” His eyes shone with sadistic pride. You growled low in your throat, the sound escaping before you could suppress it. The thrill of the fight surged in your veins, a hunger that eclipsed the small, shy man you used to be. But it was Hank’s voice that kept you in line, the master that had reshaped you into this beast. “Sit!” he commanded, and against your will, your body complied, your haunches hitting the ground. “Good boy!” he praised, and the words stirred something within you—an odd mix of pride and loathing. As the days wore on, you felt the relentless rhythm of training seeping into your very being. The more you fought, the more you craved it. Every victory in the pit heightened your adrenaline, but it was always Hank’s approval that lingered in your mind. You hated the way it felt to seek his validation, yet there you were, locked in a cycle of obedience.

“Tonight’s fight is important,” Hank said, leaning closer, his breath hot against your face. “You need to show everyone who’s boss. You’re not just a dog; you’re my dog.” The possessiveness in his tone made you bristle, the primal part of you wanting to snap at him for his arrogance, yet you found yourself nodding, the obedience coursing through you like a drug. “Good. Now let’s see that aggression.” He tossed you a worn-out training dummy, and you lunged for it, sinking your teeth into the fabric. The thrill of tearing it apart sent sparks of pleasure through your body, and you felt a growl rumble deep in your chest. “Yeah, that’s it! Let it out!” Hank shouted, his voice a mix of excitement and authority. You could see the gleam in his eyes, and you knew he delighted in your ferocity, feeding it like a twisted form of affection.

Hours later, you stood in the makeshift pit, the crowd surrounding you like vultures, ready to witness the carnage. Your muscles were taut, every fiber of your being ready to explode into action. Hank stood at the edge, his gaze fixed on you, the way he commanded the room making you feel both empowered and trapped. “Show them who you are, Rowdy!” he shouted, and you surged forward, the thrill of the fight consuming you. You felt the adrenaline wash over you, the instinct to dominate and destroy taking control. As you lunged at your opponent, the rush of aggression overwhelmed you. You could almost taste the blood, the primal joy of the fight igniting a frenzy within.

But just as you were about to unleash your full power, a voice broke through the haze. “Rowdy, enough!” Hank’s command cut through the chaos, and you skidded to a halt, panting, your body trembling with pent-up energy. You hated that you had to obey, but the truth was, you had become his. “Good boy,” Hank cooed, and while your instincts roared for freedom, a part of you reveled in the praise. The thrill of the fight became an addiction, and you would often find yourself in a frenzy, teeth bared, ready to tear into anything that moved. It was Hank’s steady grip on your collar that pulled you back from the edge of madness when you teetered too close. In that moments, you were his perfect fighting dog, powerful and aggressive, yet completely obedient. The conflict within you grew, but as you locked eyes with Hank, you felt an odd sense of belonging.

One evening, after a particularly brutal training session, you lay stretched out on a couch in Hank’s luxurious loft. The scent of leather and cologne hung in the air as you panted, muscles sore but exhilarated. Hank leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. Felix strolled in, his presence lighting up the room. “How is he performing?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Hank chuckled, pride swelling in his chest. “He’s a good boy now. The perfect fighting dog—strong, aggressive, but totally loyal towards me!” Felix raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, I guess you’ve taught him everything he needs to know!”

With a flick of his wrist, Felix summoned the magic again. You felt a tingling sensation wash over your body, and in an instant, everything changed. The world around you twisted and blurred, and suddenly, you were standing upright. You looked down, astonished to find yourself transformed back into a human. But you weren’t the meek office worker anymore. Gone was the timid, thin frame. Instead, you were a muscular, handsome man with black hair and a rugged stubble.

You felt the power coursing through you, the confidence radiating from your very being. “What the—” you started, your voice deep and commanding now. You flexed your arms, marveling at the definition in your biceps. Hank looked you up and down, a satisfied grin on his face. “Rowdy, you look incredible,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “I knew you had it in you.” Felix clapped his hands together, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “See? I told you it was all about attitude. You’ve become the man you always wanted to be!” You felt a surge of energy, a newfound sense of self. “I… I never thought I could be like this,” you said, testing your voice. It was rich and resonant, dripping with authority. Hank stepped closer, his gaze steady. “You’ve earned this. You fought hard, and now you have what you wanted—a commanding presence.” As you looked around the luxurious loft, you realized just how far you had come. The weight of your insecurities melted away, replaced by a sense of purpose. “What’s next?” you asked, the thrill of excitement bubbling in your chest. Felix grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Now, it’s time for you to embrace your new life. The world is yours to conquer, Rowdy.” With a shared nod between the two of you, a new chapter began. You felt the weight of the past lift, replaced by the thrill of limitless possibilities. You were ready to command attention, to assert yourself in a world that had once overlooked you. As laughter echoed through the loft, you knew that you were no longer the invisible worker—you were Rowdy, a force to be reckoned with.

[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 04. ardor

pairing ☆ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS: unresolved sexual tension (if that even counts....)

WORD COUNT: 2K

TAGLIST: open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous

ardor. (noun) great warmth of feeling; passion or burning heat

The rain had been pouring relentlessly, soaking both of you to the bone. You shoved open the door to your house, only for water to be dripping from the clothes of both of you onto the hardwood floor. 

Subconsciously you’d forgotten that you invited the Rafe Cameron over to your house. And now here he was, standing in your foyer, his presence quite intrusive as ever.

“You can’t just stand there dripping all over the place,” you said while shrugging off your (his) soaked jacket. “Great, now my floor’s going to be messed up.”

“Your floor?” Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, snickering. “Seems like you got your priorities straight. Thanks for such a warm welcome.”

You ignored him, heading towards your bathroom. The fabric of your dress clung stubbornly to your legs, making it quite uncomfortable to walk around in. You felt his gaze on your back, and it took everything in you to not turn around and snap at him.

“Stay there,” you called over your shoulder. “You’re already making a mess.”

“I’m soaked,” he countered, his voice tinged with amusement. “Standing still isn’t going to fix that.”

You reappeared with a pair of towels, tossing one at him without much thought. He caught it with a quick flick of his wrist, shaking his head as he worked to wring the water out of his hair. You tried not to stare at the way his shirt clung to him, the damp shirt outlining the muscles of his chest and shoulders.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine. You told yourself that it was because of the cold.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said tightly, wrapping your own towel around your body. “Bathroom’s down the hall if you want to dry off properly.”

“And leave you here all alone?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “What kind of guest would I be?”

You rolled your eyes, but felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Suit yourself. Just don’t get my couch all wet.”

Rafe didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you longer than you were comfortable with. “You’re shaking,” he said finally, his tone softer than you expected.

“Well, it’s freezing and I’m wearing a dress,” you remarked, pulling the towel tighter around yourself. “What did you expect?”

He stepped closer, his movements painfully slow, his presence filling the small space between you two. “I wasn’t planning on getting caught in a storm today, if that’s what you’re asking. Much less with you.”

“Neither was I. And it wasn’t,” you said, refusing to back away even as your pulse quickened.

For a moment, neither of you two spoke. The silence felt louder than the rain pounding against the windows. His eyes searched yours, his usual smirk fading into something more serious, more intense.

“You should change,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur.

“You also need to change,” you countered, your voice surprisingly steadier than how you felt.

His gaze flicked down, just for a moment, to where the strap of your dress had slipped off your shoulder. He reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing your skin as he pushed it back into place. The contact sent a jolt through you, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn't even notice yourself.

“Sorry,” he murmured, though his tone lacked any real apologetic intentions. His hand lingered for a bit before he pulled away.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, stepping back to create a sudden, but much-needed space. The tension in the room was undeniable and didn't dissipate; if anything, it thickened.

“Wait, I’ll grab you something dry,” you said abruptly, turning toward your bedroom. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away. It only caused your heart to start hammering in your chest. You had to keep your mind straight. Get a fucking grip of yourself Y/N. 

When you returned, you saw Rafe standing by the window, looking out at the storm. However, his shirt happened to be long gone from his body and draped over the back of the couch. You nearly dropped the extra clothes in your hands.

“Seriously?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. 

He turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“You couldn’t wait to take your shirt off until I gave you the clothes?” you asked, your voice higher than usual.

He shrugged, unbothered. “Didn’t think you’d mind. Do you?” He threw a playful grin at you.

“Well, I do mind,” you snapped, practically throwing the clothes at him. “Here. Wear these.”

He took them, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Thanks. But I’m pretty sure your stuff doesn’t fit me.”

“It’s pretty ginormous on me already,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “So unless you’re secretly an extremely buff man, you’ll fit into it.”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. I’ll change in the bathroom.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The heat in your cheeks was very apparent and impossible to ignore. You busied yourself tidying up the soaked towels and changed into dry clothes in your bedroom.

Rafe came out dressed in an old sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants that somehow still looked good on him. Shit. You found yourself secretly wishing you’d given him something uglier.

“Better?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“If you think so,” you replied in a monotone voice, refusing to meet his gaze.

He grinned, but for once, he didn’t press you. Instead, he walked over to the couch and dropped onto it with a sigh, running a hand through his still-damp hair.

“So,” he said after a moment, “what do people do for fun around here when they’re not getting caught in storms?”

“Are you seriously trying to make small talk right now?” you asked, incredulous.

“What else are we going to do? Do you seriously just want to sit here in silence?” he countered, gesturing toward the rain still pouring outside.

There were absolutely no signs that the storm would stop, and the thought of sitting in silence with him was somehow worse.

“Fine,” you sighed, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “What do you want to talk about?”

He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Why do you hate me?”

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked at him, unsure how to respond. “I don’t hate you,” you said softly.

“Something people always tell me when they first meet me,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious.

You sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “Rafe, I don’t hate you. I just think you’re too used to getting things your way. And you don’t seem to care about people you might hurt during the process..”

He tilted his head, considering your words. “And that bothers you? Because?”

“Yeah,” you said bluntly. “Because people like you never seem to face any consequences.”

He nodded slowly, as if your answer didn’t surprise him. “Okay, I guess. But maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Maybe,” you allowed. “But you haven’t exactly given me a reason to think otherwise.”

He grinned at you, stretching his arm back on the couch. “What if I said I wanted to?”

“Wanted to what?”

“Give you a reason.”

Your heart had oddly skipped a beat, but you kept your expression neutral. “I’d say actions speak louder than words.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I can work with that.”

Silence fell again, but this time it was somewhat both comfortable and charged. Silence became a normal thing between you two, something quite frequent, too. You didn’t trust him (for now), but for the first time, you found yourself wondering if there was more to him than the cocky, privileged persona he masked so well.

And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you wanted to find out.

Rafe cleared his throat, interrupting the silence. “Why’d you let me in your house to dry off?”

The question caught you off guard (again), and you hesitated, unsure how to answer. Because you didn’t truly know the answer either. “Because it was raining,�� you shrugged. “And I’m not heartless. I wasn't going to let you sit out there at the docks during a storm.”

“That’s it?” he asked, leaning towards your side. “No other reason?”

“What other reason would there be?” you muttered.

Rafe studied you for a good moment, his expression still unreadable. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just curious about me.”

“About you?” you scoffed. “Hardly.” Fully.

“Liar,” he said walking over to take a seat right next to you on the couch.

Your pulse betrayed you and quickened again, and you hated how easily he could get under your skin. “You’re really infuriating sometimes, you know that?”

He leaned back again, his smirk returning, but there was something different about it now – something less calculated and more genuine. “Hm. So I’ve been told.”

The room became quiet again, and only soft patter of rain against the windows could be heard. You sat stiffly on the couch, not sure what to do with your own body. However, Rafe (of course) was getting comfortably seated right next to you.

The space between you two was nearly not enough.

“Are you always this tense?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. His leg shifted, brushing just enough to send a jolt through you.

“I’m not tense,” you snapped, pulling your legs up to tightly wrap your arms around them.

He chuckled, the sound deep and mildly annoying. “You’re really jittery.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re in my personal space,” you retorted, turning to glare at him.

“Personal space?” he echoed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “I’m not even touching you.” He moved even closer to you (if that was even possible), reaching over your body for the gigantic blanket.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe,” he said, his tone softer now, his gaze locking with yours. “But you’re not moving.”

Your heart started pounding again, so loud you were definitely sure he could hear it. You opened your mouth to say something – quite literally anything – but the words wouldn’t form. 

He opened up the blanket to place on top of your legs and his, the motion only bringing him closer to you. So close you could feel the faint heat of his skin, the smell of rain and something distinctly him filling your senses.

“Tell me to move Y/N,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low rasp.

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly extremely dry. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“No?” His head tilted slightly, his face just inches from hers, and the air between them felt like a live wire, buzzing and electric. “Because I’m starting to think you like this.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much,” you barely managed, but the waver in your voice betrayed you.

His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering too long for your liking, before flicking back to your eyes. He had blue eyes. 

Everyone around you seemed to be like a white noise. As if put under anesthesia, your body seemed to turn numb. You haven’t felt like this in a long time. Desire. Yearning. The world outside melted away. 

There was only Rafe: the exasperating proximity of his body and the heavy weight of his gaze on you. 

Your fingers twitched against the blanket, every nerve in your body screaming for something you couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, as if whispering, your name rolling off his tongue like a secret.

Your breath caught, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you lost your mind. You started to lean in without even knowing. But then reality came crashing back – too loud and sudden. You tore your gaze away, scooting an inch away from him clearing your throat.

“I’m going to go make some food for us,” you whispered hoarsely.

For once, he didn’t push. He nodded, letting out a heavy and trembling breath out of his mouth.

Not only did the heavy tension get thicker, it was ready. For something new. It became like the storm outside, ready to break at any moment.

NOTE. sooo that developed much quicker than (i bet) many expected 😊😊😊 next chapter is definitely one that majority of ygs are waiting fooooor winkwink pls comment and tell me ur predictions or anything in general!! i love to hear the love from all of you :')

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @percysley @wtfdudesblog @fratbrochrisgf

[parkerluvsu]

day 1: undressing <3

the scent of vanilla filled your nose as you spread your lotion into your skin, rubbing the excess into your hands as you slip your sleep shorts on over your legs. tiredness clouds your eyes as you shut off the bathroom light, softly padding over to the bed. art is leaning up against the headboard, reading some nerdy book about tennis as you crawl into bed next to him.

art immediately puts his book down on the bedside table, crawling over to rest his head on your stomach, nuzzling against the exposed skin. he can't get enough of you, how you feel, how you smell, everything about you. art presses a soft kiss on your stomach, looking up at you with those baby blue eyes and you can't help but melt. his warm hands pull at your silk shorts, kissing the newly exposed skin on your hips.

art gently pulls your shorts off your legs, making his way back up to your chest, helping you sit up. he smoothes his hands over your shoulders, his fingers gently reaching under the hem of your sleep shirt. you raise your arms up, helping him pull off your shirt and attach his lips to your neck. arts hands caress your body as he makes his way back between your legs, placing a kiss right above your panties. art makes eye contact with you as he gently drags your panties down your legs, placing them on the pile with your other clothes. you reach down and run your fingers through arts hair as you place your head back on your pillow, watching as he disappears between your legs <3

[ilysungho]

hiya!!! i’d love if you were to write 10 & 11 for myungjae?💓💓🥺

a/n: i think i got carried away… enjoy~ here is the full list to request your own prompt x member!wc: 0.78k contains: dom!myungjae x sub!reader, myungjae established as an idol, established relationship (bf/gf), couple don’t live together, use of nicknames (baby), just very soft and intimate, penetrative sex (p in v), lower case intended, prompts italicized

with award season coming up, your boyfriend jaehyun had been more than stressed every day. most days he wouldn’t even come back home until 2am, having to immediately leave for work again by 5am.

you usually don’t stay up too late, being in bed by around 11am at night (although you stay up if jaehyun says he’s coming after practice!). but even if you go to sleep, you had given him an extra key to your place in case he needed a getaway from his dorm or work.

today had been a particularly stressful day of practice. he got off of work at 1am and left for your place without saying a word to anyone, but his members knew, and frankly begged for that to happen since they knew only you could get him out of the anger and stress he’s been feeling this whole day.

jaehyun: hi baby. i’m on my way 1:07am

he knew you wouldn’t read or text back so he was thankful he had the key to your place.

reaching soon after, he entered and removed his shoes, already feeling relaxed through the scent of you that lingered in the air. walking over to your room, he admired your sleeping beauty before getting into bed and facing you.

“baby, i’m here” he whispered, giving a soft kiss to your lips, earning a soft “mm” in return. wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer, murmuring a soft i miss you against his lips and getting a kiss in return.

your lips stayed locked together, with jaehyun growing feverish against you. he missed your touch and has wanted nothing more than you to be by his side since the start of rehearsals for the end of year stages. sharing soft kisses in the dead of the night made him think about you and how you could get rid of every worry on his mind. his hold onto you got stronger as he pulled you closer to him and continuously gave you kisses, each one lasting longer than the previous.

pulling you by your waist and slowly getting on top of you, the air between the two of you started to get intense. every kiss got met with a moan. every moan got met with a groan. hips started grinding between the two of you while you tugged at his shirt.

“do you want to go further y/n? tell me to stop now otherwise i won’t be able to stop for the rest of the night…”

a whispered “please” slipped out of kiss bitten lips as you watched your boyfriend sit up to take his shirt off and do the same to you. his lips found a new spot at your neck as he nibbled on the supple skin, leaving pink and red marks he would then lick and kiss over. you winced and moan, a pool starting to form in your panties. jaehyun wouldn’t stop now that he got to your neck; he had to go all the way. the once soft kisses you shared between each other turned into a taste of ecstasy. once you started, you could never get enough of the other.

the wetness in your panties was enough to let jaehyun know that you were ready to take him. he took off any remaining clothes the two of you hadn’t already removed, getting his already hard dick ready to thrust into you.

a sharp exhale left both your lips as he inserted into your aching hole. you pulled his face up to yours to face him and resume kissing each others bruising lips. he didn't care anymore if anyone noticed how different his lips looked compared to the day before. all he knew was how he badly he needed you.

your hips bucked against his, having your juices mix and make everything easier on the two of you. it had been long since you two had made time like this for each other, so the intensity of the night was way higher than normal. amidst the sounds of his dick slapping into you, exasperated kisses, and noises your throats made against one another, everything felt perfect. “you drive me so insane, you don’t even know.” was the last thing said before you bit his lip, signaling that you were coming. jaehyun continued at the pace he was at and you reached your climax first, with him pulling out and cumming on top of your clit right after.

this was everything jaehyun needed. your hardworking boyfriend sunk into your chest and gave you a few more kisses before drifting of to bed beside you, not forgetting to tell you what's in his heart:

"i love you."

[silver-cyn]

Hualian Kiss-Mas for @here4hualian

Day 1 - Kiss on the cheek Read it on AO3 here.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian called from the doorway. He slipped his shoes off at the entrance of the door, eyes already searching for that familiar figure. Sometimes Hua Cheng could be found in the kitchen, making a delicious meal for them. Alas, the lights were off, and no fragrant dish reached his nose.

Not so unusual though and so Xie Lian continued on to the living room only to find it empty too. Before moving on, Xie Lian’s eyes lingered on the corner of the couch Hua Cheng liked to occupy. Many nights had passed with Xie Lian curled against Hua Cheng while they watched a show together. Other times, Xie Lian would curl his feet on Hua Cheng’s lap while reading a book, and Hua Cheng worked on his tablet. How curious. Hua Cheng’s car was parked outside, but their home was eerily quiet. Something was off and unconsciously Xie Lian rubbed his thumb over his wrist, mirroring the soothing action Hua Cheng had done for him many times. Xie Lian padded softly into their hallway, paused by their joint study to check the room. By this point, he was not surprised at Hua Cheng’s absence, but he was slightly worried.  Everything else aside, the true indicator of something being off was that Hua Cheng hadn’t responded to Xie Lian’s call. He never did that.

Xie Lian pushed down his worry, telling himself there were many benign reasons for such a thing. Still, old fears died hard. For many years, Xie Lian’s lot in life hadn’t been the best. And though he’d shouldered it all with a smile and kindness, he’d also learned to push all the pain and loneliness of it so far down that he’d managed to almost convince himself there was no pain at all. 

And then he met Hua Cheng. 

Hua Cheng, who took his smiles and his frowns. Hua Cheng, who took his laughter and his tears, his joy and his pain. 

Hua Cheng, who took all of him in every way that he was. Even now, Xie Lian could feel the ghost of his arms around him, the whisper of his words in his ear.

Cry out if it hurts.

And though there were no tears to shed, the words reminded him there was no need to pretend.  And so, he breathed through his worry, and then let it go on an exhale.

Once, twice and then again. The exercise calmed him enough to think of the most logical, probable outcome and he veered towards their bedroom.

And there Hua Cheng was, sleeping in their bed. Xie Lian quickly covered his mouth, cutting off a sob or laughter, he’d never be able to say. He closed his eyes, and with one last deep breath, made his way to the bed. Xie Lian knelt down, bringing himself at eye level to Hua Cheng’s dear face. 

He smiled softly seeing one side of Hua Cheng’s face squished against the pillow, his eyepatch tangled in his hair as if he’d tugged it off but fell asleep before removing it fully. Taking in the rest of him, Xie Lian could see that, jacket aside, he was still wearing his business suit from the office. Gradually, the smile melted away, and understanding replaced relief. Hua Cheng was the hardest working man Xie Lian knew. He had a business to run and run it well he did.  Though there were days he had to leave home early or nights he returned late, those times were few and far in between. 

Yet thinking about this past week, Xie Lian bit his lip remembering cold sheets upon waking in the morning. Or the opposite, waking up in the middle of the night to find Hua Cheng in their study, eyes preoccupied by the bright glow of his computer.

It was obvious Hua Cheng had been working on something important. Xie Lian hadn’t pried, but seeing his lover’s current state, well, it seemed a change of plan was needed.

Staring hard at Hua Cheng, Xie Lian felt fondness and concern grip his heart. The latter was for later though. Leaning forward, Xie Lian removed the eyepatch from his hair, and pressed gentle kisses to Hua Cheng’s forehead, his nose, and his cheek. Then, pushing up his shirt sleeves, he got to work. 

Xie Lian had worked almost every job under the sun, one of which included care of the elderly. Those skills allowed him to maneuver Hua Cheng’s body just enough to strip him of his button down shirt and pants and replace them with one of the warmer pajama sets Hua Cheng favored.  

All this he did without breaking a sweat, and most importantly, without waking Hua Cheng. 

Touching a finger to his chin, Xie Lian stared thoughtfully at Hua Cheng, and then grabbed his own pillow and stuffed it in Hua Cheng’s embrace until Xie Lian himself could return. Through it all, Hua Cheng continued to sleep deeply. Giving one last tender kiss to Hua Cheng’s cheek, Xie Lian picked up his suit jacket from the floor. Then, as if in slow motion, a velvet red box tumbled out of the pocket. 

It was an odd sensation for Xie Lian – the feeling of a hundred butterflies in his stomach perfectly unified with the feeling of being gut punched in the best possible way. Heart near to bursting, face full of smiles he wasn’t even aware of, he picked up the small box and tucked it back into Hua Cheng’s pocket. He gently closed the bedroom door and started down the hallway. Dinner first for my San Lang, he thought, flicking on the lights in the living room before making his way to the kitchen.

A bath sounds like a good idea too, he mused to himself, pulling out pots from the cabinet and vegetables from the fridge. So does the rest of my life. 

[alkalinc]

pulling back just barely, he let sophia tug his shirt off before she pulled her own off as well, then his lips found hers immediately. his hips pressed down against hers and he breathed into her mouth before hearing her pleading. he met her gaze for a split second and his tongue ran along his lower lip before nodding his head. "i want you." the words were breathed against her lips as he pressed a firm kiss to them. alexander pulled back seconds later to trail down her body, hands slipped beneath her to unclasp her bra and toss it aside. kisses were peppered along her skin as he kept moving down to wrap his fingers around the waistband of her leggings, tugging them and her panties off swiftly. "you say please one more time like that and you'll get everything you want, baby," he whispered once he was settled between her legs with his head tilted to press a kiss against her inner thigh.

she bit into her lower lip as he pulled her up into a sitting position. before she could protest, he was tugging the hoodie right off of her. his lips were on hers moments later and she whined into the kiss. she dropped back against the pillows and let him pull her legs around his waist. her fingers curled into his shirt and tugged him closer, flush against her body. she breathed him in and she pulled at the hemline of his shirt and broke the kiss to take off his shirt. she tugged her t-shirt off and tossed it aside before leaning up for another kiss. her heart was racing in her chest and she pressed her hands against his back. "please, alexander..." she breathed out and nudged her nose against his. she nodded at him and swallowed thickly. "i want you."

[swordmaid]

someone drew my hags as the vibe of those raunchy romance novel covers im CACKLING now I want to actually draw them as one

[tonycries]

Love Thy D!LF - T.F.

Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)

A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.

Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.

Your neighbor was a tease.

Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…

Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot. 

Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way. 

What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.

Bzzt–!

Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.

Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3

Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything. 

You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door. 

Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.

And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.

“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily. 

Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down- 

It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.

Especially around you. 

In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp. 

You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”

He knew what he was doing. 

God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet. 

“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”

He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.

A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”

“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.” 

“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”

Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-

“He’s lying.”

Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to. 

“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”

“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”

“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside. 

“Just tell her!”

“I’m taking your iPad time away!”

It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…

“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”

You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”

“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”

“Yeah but-”

“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”

“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”

He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”

And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”

He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”

The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow. 

And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips. 

“Smooth, dad.”

“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”

Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.

And then, he sees it. 

Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry. 

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later. 

With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-

“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…

But this?

Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear. 

All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.

“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”

And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter. 

He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence. 

But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?

Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was. 

Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning. 

And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.

Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.

So cute.

“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.

“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”

And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.

“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”

His phone clatters! to the ground.

Did you just say…his name?

“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest. 

Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder. 

“Toji—!”

Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-

Toji feels pathetic. 

Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-

Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft. 

“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”

The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.

For anything.

“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”

Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please- 

Ah, his prayers are answered.

Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”

“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”

And could you read his mind?

Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.

Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure. 

The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-

“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”

He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples. 

Burning.

And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”

Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard. 

So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice. 

It was agonizing. 

And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.

SLAM!

“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-

“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”

He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit. 

“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.

“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”

That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-

“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”

Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?

Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes. 

Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.

“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”

“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”

He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high. 

Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before. 

And it makes him cum 

It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.

“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty. 

Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin. 

“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”

Bzzt–! 

From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.

Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?

---

“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”

You weren’t listening.

You couldn’t.

Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.

You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass. 

But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside. 

No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…

And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy. 

Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-

“-doll? Doll.”

“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”

“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”

Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”

“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”

“Wh-wha- where did you get that?” 

Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over. 

Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro. 

He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”

“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible. 

“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”

He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke. 

You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”

“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”

You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. 

You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he. 

“...I heard you, too, y’know.”

Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips. 

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”

Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”

“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”

Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”

Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”

.

.

.

“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”

But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already. 

Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.

And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk. 

All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.

Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”

And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”

He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat. 

His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”

“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”

Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.

Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick. 

“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”

“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”

“Tell me exactly  what you want, doll.”

So bossy, you want to snap back. 

But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”

And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss. 

He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans. 

Sweet.

So sweet.

“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”

Proposing and proposing and kissing-

He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking. 

You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”

It already was. 

But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up. 

Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”

“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”

Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”

Toji didn’t expect an answer.

And you can’t give him one.

Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-

“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”

But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”

Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”

“Y-you’re so mean.”

At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”

You were sure he was talking for himself. 

Or…was he? 

Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls. 

Either you could take him or he’ll make space. 

Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”

You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear. 

Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls. 

Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed. 

“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”

“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”

You stumble through it - yearning for more. 

“Faster.”

“I-I’m trying.’”

But it wasn’t enough. Obviously. 

And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”

How could you not?

It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now. 

Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-

“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”

And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”

Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate. 

And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”

It’s so rough.

Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue- 

Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.

“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose. 

It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.

“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”

But even that didn’t seem like enough.

Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved. 

So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”

“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.

With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness. 

“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”

You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself. 

It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt. 

“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”

His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”

And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”

God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.

The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-

“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”

“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him. 

You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows. 

“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.

Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”

And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know. 

He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine. 

“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”

And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible. 

It’s like Toji was out of control. 

Feral.

A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”

“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”

Shit.

The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.

Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”

As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea. 

His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy. 

He’s so filthy. 

“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”

And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.

Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words. 

“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”

God- you said his name. 

Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-

“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”

Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”

Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.

But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.

When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”

God, he was flying too close to the sun.

Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”

“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”

You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”

Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”

He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well. 

He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting. 

Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright. 

Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed. 

It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.

THUD!

Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”

Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”

“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”

With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around. 

The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.

“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”

Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”

“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”

“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”

“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”

And it’s only later. 

Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock! 

A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”

“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”

---

“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

[amaranthinespirit]

blue collar or cowboy!simon riley who would fuck you in the bed of his truck

simon was always out working so hard all day, coming home with dirt caked on his clothes. you'd have to scold him when he would track mud through the house—that you had just cleaned from whenever he came in yesterday.

he'd grovel, pressing kisses to the bare skin of your shoulder, the well-worn, holed shirt you stole from him slipping off your frame. muttering promises between each press of his lips further up your neck, along your jaw.

who are you to resist?

and who is he to either?

your pants pooled at your ankles, shirt hiked up your back and drooping off one shoulder. your inner thighs are slick and glistening with arousal and saliva.

a rough hand pushes down on your back, further squishing your chest into the hard metal of his truck bed, another grasping firmly at the fat of your backside where simon's face is lapping at your dripping cunt.

soft mewls cry from your lips, hands reaching back to grasp as his head, fingers tangling through the short locks of dirty blond. he only grunts in response—sorry, luvie, he's in heaven.

your legs are trembling, knees threatening to buckle under you with three orgasms already coaxed out of you on his tongue alone, milking you of your sweet, slick nectar.

your quiet, strained cries do nothing, but aid the tightness in his dirtied jeans, his cock oozing arousal in his boxers, dampening the fabric beyond his zipper. every involuntary shift of his hips causes more friction and tension with the denim, sending a groan throughout your pussy.

his noises vibrate against your pussy, shocking your overstimulated, and oversensitive, clit. all you can do is cry out as he pushes himself deeper, closer. his tongue is merciless, selfish as he threatens to swallow you whole.

at this point, you're begging for relent, repeated pleas of his name falling from your lips as the familiar heat builds in your tummy, and you writhe under his hands. the cold metal turning warm under you as it digs into your skin.

everything becoming overstimulating as the world begins to spin, jaw going slack, saliva pooling in your mouth as it threatens to spill over your swollen lips.

tears are streaming down your flushed face, your hair is frizzy and eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as yet another release washes over you, sending a shudder through your body.

simon finally pulls his face away from the heaven between your thighs, not without flattening his tongue over your cunt for a last taste.

the lower half of his face glistening, coated in your juices, he desperately licks his lips to savor it. as he stands up from his position, his hand on your back pushes you back down onto the bed of his truck.

"n't done, luvie, be'a gud girl 'nd stay still," he kneaded the flesh of your backside, groaning at the sight in front of him.

his hands meet your hips, pulling you back on his clothed erection. a small yelped wince escapes your lips at the friction against your sensitive cunt. your frayed nerves against the harsh material that soaks up your arousal and previous releases.

you whine as he rocks his hips slowly, grunting as he watches the material dampen so easily before he pulls away from your hips.

his movements are hasty, not wasting any more time as he barely undoes his belt and zipper, freeing his heavy cock from the constraints of his jeans.

he whines softly at the warmth of your puffy, swollen folds as he rubs his cockhead up and down your pussy before catching your slit.

he groans at the tightness that welcomes him, the slick, clamping, spongy walls that pulse around his dick almost milks him of every last drop of sperm that fills his heavy balls.

your voice is hoarse, almost gone by the time his cock is sheathed in you, his cockhead brushing your cervix as you feel the precum oozing from his slit. you can feel every prominent vein of his cock against your spongy walls, they're practically ingrained in you, your pussy molded to take his dick.

a creamy, white circle forms at the base of his cock as he forces his entire length inside, his girthy dick stretching your weeping pussy with loud, lewd squelches.

he doesn't give you time—he's selfish tonight, unapologetically so because luvie, he didn't track any dirt through the house! this is him rewarding himself for being so good! you can't discourage that, can you?

it isn't long until your backside is red, his hips pistioning into your sopping cunt, the sight of your slick pussy swallowing his red, angry cock so needily, sucking him in so desperately and clamping around him was addicting, and the feel even more so. his pace isn't nice, it's mean, and relentless, and bruising.

"fuck, lovie, couldn' wait t'hav ya," he whined in your ear, his cock drilling into your tight hole as he nipped at your earlobe. calloused, rough and dirty hands kneading the fat of your ass, a sharp slap to your skin causing it to turn even more flushed and red as he fucked himself stupid.

he was pussy-drunk, drool dripping from his cracked, dry lips onto the expanse of your shoulder. he'd press lewd, wet kisses against your supple skin, adding to the trails of saliva that pooled from his lips.

you'd have bruises the shape of his fingers on your ass for days, maybe even a week after, because of how hard his hands grasp your backside, pulling you back onto his cock as he milks himself dry.

"need t'fill y'r pussy, baby," his voice comes out a low, rough whine, despite the heavy grasp and force he exerts, "fuck, 's all f'me, ain't it?"

he'd always make sure to put dirt on the floors if it meant making it up to you by stuffing his face between your thighs.

or, making sure to kick off his boots outside the door if it meant rewarding himself like this, again, and again, and again.