#UNEDITED]

[satakentiaphoto]

Ponte da Misarela, Portugal

[angelkiyo]

there was something about your brother being a plug that was fun; and it wasn’t just stealing from his stash of edibles.

but more so his clients. specifically a college guy named torū oikawa.

he was from japan, 6’0 or so, and majorly sexy—but “off-limits” according to your brother. not only was torū his client, but also his friend.

but your brother didn’t have to know.

so when your brother had to leave for a bit to meet with his friends, you were awaiting torū to come get his order at your house. he wanted to blow off steam from a volleyball match loss and what better way to do so than to take a little edible.

one thing led to another and all of a sudden, you were eating the shit he bought from your brother: some nice homemade brownies.

“this hits the spot,” he murmured. you felt your gaze cement on his figure sprawled out across the couch while he felt the effects of the edible take in place.

“mhm…” you giggled and leaned towards him. his chocolate brown eyes kept staring at the ceiling fan turn and turn.

the sunset was peering through the thin spaces of the window blinds and his pretty little features entranced you. the way his hooded eyes stared, his veiny hands placed upon the couch, his evidently toned legs concealed by his jeans that fit him so snug. even the way his adam’s apple popped out drove you so insane.

your memory got a bit foggy but what you do remember was pulling him in to make out—oh how his lips were from the brownie: all sweet and a hint of vanilla from his lip balm.

“fuck, pretty girl. you’re so fucking sweet,” he murmured as his lips attacked your neck sensually, his fingers going down to rub at your wet folds.

all you could do was squirm at his euphoric touches—even at the way he stared at you like you were water and he was parched. the way he touched you was like you werte a piece of clay and he was the sculptor: ever so meticulous yet rough and gentle at the same time.

your edible intake didn’t help either; every touch he gave you made you feel like your body was on cloud 9.

“so wet, pretty girl. so so good.” he whispered, his words slightly muffled from his lips being on your neck. your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his erection against the plush of your thigh: all hard and stiff from the confines of his jeans.

you felt torū’s long fingers slowly adjust in slipping down your cute jean skirt to your knees, helping him access your wet cunt better. “so cute, baby…”

your eyes stayed on him as he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants; then they widened when you saw how delectably long he was. so so long.

a giggle slipped from your lips and you felt giddy and wet. “you can take it. right, baby?” you just nodded just to get a feel—a taste.

that small giggle turned into a near wanton moan as you felt him slowly enter your tight wet cunt; not even your slick could help with the immense stretch.

“god, torū��” you whined. you felt damn near breathless at the sensation of how good he felt.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he whimpered, “i’m gonna cum. fuck—“

“m-me too,” you shut your eyes closed at his slow pace. you felt him in the most literal sense; the veins and the way he simply moved.

the sound of your slick with his thrusts filled the room with your labored breathing and his constant low whimpers. you felt a wave of euphoria come over you as you finally came on his dick.

“you’re so good, pretty. did so good f’me.”

his pace became even more excruciatingly slow and you felt him buck his hips and cock twitch, his moans becoming more wanton and loud.

and just when you felt him finish and fill you, you heard your phone buzz from your brother, letting you know what he was coming back earlier than expected.

[giulio-gandini]

[rogue4rtist]

[cloudedcreams]

(nsfw) thinking of a yandere who is entranced by the idea of you taking his virginity from him.

he saved it all for you, he said. he told you that he’d forced away all his unclean thoughts, put himself in the shoes of the pure in hopes that it’ll unleash such passion, some emotion and such longing between the intimate moment he wishes to share with you.

he groans against your lips, slightly grinding his hips as he does so. he leaves you wet, open mouthed kisses and he trails them from your cheek to your neck, sucking at the skin as he fondles your chest.

“you’ve got such pretty nips.” he pants, before swirling his tongue around them, sucking them as he used his hands to undress the two of you. he bucked his hips against you the moment the two of you were unclothed, moans pouring from his lips until the moment he sheathed himself inside of you.

he thrust himself inside of you wildly, grabbing your hips with sweaty palms as he lightly moved them to match his rhythm. you tangled your fingers through your haired and he breathed your name out, shaking as he did so.

“ohhh fuck yeah baby. s-say my name like that again, p-please fucking… mmh” he pleads. he places another kiss against your lips, hurried and passionate, messy with the ecstasy that he’s feeling, and even after he’s released himself inside of you with desperate and crying whimpers of your name, he keeps his length inside of you, humming against your ear as he whispers praises on repeat.

[tojisun]

call it bad porno plot but blue collar simon coming to your house cuz you rang, saying you needed some plumbing done, and you, well, you didn’t expect this hulking mass of a man to come greet you with an accent so thick you can feel yourself getting wet :(

he calls you maam and missus—you say “just miss,” with a little cough because you’re not married, and he pauses and goes, “oh, is that so?” with this little pleased smile tugging at his lips.

he checks whatever’s going on in your kitchen sink and says it might take a while, and you can barely reply to him when he begins to shrug his jacket off, leaving him in this skin-tight black shirt that literally looks so beat up with overuse but unbelievably hot on him.

“reckon little ol’ me can have somethin’ to drink, maam?” he asks, crossing those thick arms over his chest, and you can barely rasp out your reply before you’re turning around to rummage around the fridge.

you don’t notice the way simon eyes you down, tracing your body and barely biting a pleased hum at the sight you make, all doll and pretty, so easy to read with your blown wide eyes staring up at him with such palpable desire.

you haven’t been fucked right, huh darling? probably never had a real man treat you well—fold you over the counter, make you squirt with only fingers, yeah?

well, he thinks, rolling his shoulders and grunting his thanks to you when you give him a glass of OJ, maybe i can be that man for you, isn’t that right petal?

(it takes a purposeful hit at the pipes for things to pick up—you came running back to the kitchen with a confused yelp, and the next he’s got you on your kitchen table, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his head buried in your cunt.)

-

ext

[ives57]

got lost

[breathings]

Gate

[flamingpudding]

Dan's Rage Room

It all started as a little Joke for Danny. Jazz mentioned Dan needing a place to decompress and that resulted in Danny getting a crazy idea while he sat in the Buisness Class Course of his Highschool. It wasn't supposed to become a serious business but somehow the little warehouse in Amity Park he secured, through blackmailing Vlad cause the man owns him after all he was put through. Became an official big store, once Dani put up a sign saying 'Dan's Rage Room' as joke.

People of Amity Park apparently thought it was a legit store. And damn... Danny shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when more and more people appeared and asked how much an hour costed. It was Sam and Tucker that then convinced him to make it a legitimate Business, Jazz and his mother helped him fill out the form. And so 'Dan's Rage Room' became Danny's very own Business. Though he did try to push splitten ownership onto his clones/time selves/ cousins/ clone siblings / clone kids (It's complicated okay? Danny still hasn't figured out how to categorise Dan and Dani, but hey they were family.) But Dan and Dani refused to take any sort of owner ship, even when everything originally started as a place for Dan to unwind.

Eitherway his Business grew, and Danny ended up expanding to other cities, figuring out that if Amity Park's people needed this, others would too. With a bit of help and unwilling on his part teaching from Vlad. Danny opened up more Stores, Central City, Metropolis, Star City. Unintentionally Danny made enough money so much that he didn't knew what to do with it and suddenly felt a new kind of understanding for Sam. Despite being sure his parents likely already did that Danny made money Fonds for Jazz, Dan and Dani. He didn't have much hope to go to collage himself considering his grades but that was fine with him. (According to what clockwork let slip and he hadn't told anyone, he would become King of the Infinite realms anyway, no need for a college degree for that, right?)

And wenn his sister decided she wanted to go to university in Gotham, the most crime riddled city known? None of the three D's hesitated to follow. Danny opened another branch of 'Dan's Rage Room' deciding that would finance their live in Gotham and still be an outlet for Dan.

What Danny didn't expect was the amount of people that weren't just 'goons' like he expected paying to let loose in there. Not that he recognised them but some of Danny's new regulars made sure he knew who some of the apparent Big Names showing up to his store were.

Jason at first thought that a new drug place had opened up at the border to Crime Alley, but after observation and seeing not just Goons but also regular Gothamites frequenting the place. Jason gave it a cautious shot, he wallst into the place completely geared up as Red Hood expecting some muscular unkept drug dealer or something at the reception, but what he found was a boy that didn't look older than Tim, small lanky and looking weirdly tired. That took the wind out of his sails as he stared stunned at the kid for a moment.

"Ah... I see guns. A bullet room then? You seem new too, first time? An hour costs 50 bucks added 5 for every additional half an hour." The boy looked up briefly before looking back down at the book he was reading, muttering something about his sister making him visit online classes.

Jason was just about to say something when someone walked in behind him and he blinked. A fucking dump truck of muscle walked in flaming white hair looking ready to rip something apart. The kid didn't even look up as they held up a green card and the guy stomped past him into a door, Jason assumed lead to the... rage rooms?

It took a moment but once he composed himself again, Jason opened his mouth again only to get interrupted by a little girl stomping in next, screeching about a fruitloop and stupid galas and stupid boys. Again the boy at the reception didn't even loop up, holding another green card to the girl who then proceeded to go through the same door the other guy had.

Once again it took Jason a moment to compose himself again, before he spoke, gruff and voice modulated. "One hour... gun room." He would snoop around if he could but if this really was just a rage room business... well he had some unresolved frustrations with B stocked up he could let loose.

Jason quickly became a regular at that place, he kept visiting it, even when he found out some of their big Villains frequented the place too. Though apparently the Joker was band. One day a big ass sign appeared on the side of the building spelling out 'NO CLOWNS ALLOWED'. When he asked Danny, he had gotten to know the boy at the reception desk by now and found some uncanny resemblance to his little brother, the boy had just shrugged and said "I hate clowns." Laughter barked out of Jason for no reason and he took his regular room card chuckling a "You and me, and 99% of Gotham kid."

That place quickly became one of Jasons safe heavens. Even if he ever only went there in full Red Hood gear. This place helped him manage his rage and anger. Some of his siblings started to use that room too, he knew Damian went there too. In full Robin gear mind you but apparently they had a room where he could fully test out his swords skills. Good for the kid.

But what stung though was Bruce, that man still didn't trust the place, something about background checks not adding up.

Jason was going to refute that, that was until one day he noticed an unusual amount of white van all around Danny's store. And only moments after he entered the store guys completely and ridiculously dressed in white stormed the place holding what Jason thought was futuristic Guns at the Danny's head who appeared somewhat unfazed. Well no one could place Jason for pulling out his own gun and holding it onto the dressed in White guy's head while the man spewed some nonsense about ghosts and more. Like hell he was let these people destroy a new safe heaven.

If Jason spread the word in the underground and suddenly, villains, goons and gothamites as well as vigilantes (his overprotective brothers really, Dick was not going to let someone destroy a place his little wing and baby bat loved to frequent...) started a reverse hunt on people ridiculously dressed like them. It wasn't his doing. And he certainly loved the frustration it caused Bruce too, seeing as even Gordon and the police force, corrupt or not, were in on it too. Governmental institution or not, Jason would make sure the GIW would be going down soon enough.

[90377]

Chasing the fog somewhere in Switzerland by @90377

[satakentiaphoto]

Ponte da Misarela, Portugal

[kruegerspillow]

accidentally finding out that simon riley is ticklish during sex, though the way he reacted wasn't too... expected. buuuuut it's not like you hated the outcome you got from him <3

MINORS DNI. NSFW BENEATH THE CUT!

Simon's hands roamed around your body, taking in every curve as you squirmed helplessly on his lap. Your hands gripped on his shoulders, seeking more friction as you grinded down against his clothed crotch. Simon's hips stuttered in response to your move.

"So fuckin' needy, aren't ya?" Simon groaned out, his voice low and filled with desperation.

You huffed in response, nearly rolling your eyes at his words before your hands made their way to the hem of his shirt. Simon grunted, helping you lift his shirt up.

"Simon... Need'ya so bad. I need to feel you, please..." You pleaded.

And before you knew it, he was knuckles deep into your cunt. His thick fingers curled inside you, feeling the way your pussy clenched hungrily around his digits. Simon laughed softly out of amusement, watching the way you arched your back. Your hands shot up to his shoulders, seeking balance.

"I got ya, don't worry, yeah? 'm here for ya, lovie." He whispered soothingly.

"Simon, I'm gonna..."

"Fuck, yeah? Let go f'me, c'mon, give yourself in."

You nearly whined at his words, feeling yourself tipping over the edge as his fingers worked faster. Tears swelled up in your eyes before you squeezed them shut, feeling yourself squirt all over him, leaving your juices dripping down his lower abdomen.

Simon watched quietly, slowing down the pace as he felt you slump against his chest, your arms falling back to your sides. His free hand wrapped around your waist, a silent gesture of protection.

"Fuuuck, would ya take a look at the mess ya made? Look at tha' sweet'eart." He mumbled softly, looking down at the mess on his stomach.

Your vision blurred as you glanced at the mess, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarassment. Fuck, your mind felt hazy. The orgasm hit you harder than a brick, and you knew only Simon could leave this effect on you.

And, as soon as you gathered your composure, your hands went back to his chest. Simon's eyes softened at the sight of you, watching as you undo his belt. You swiftly threw his belt aside, propping yourself on top of him before looking up at him. Simon got the signal and lifted his hips up, gaze piercing as you pulled his pants down.

There was a small stain on his boxers already, having leaked precum ever since he buried his fingers into your puffy cunt. Simon groaned as you pulled his boxers down, the cold air hitting his painfully hard cock.

"Wait, sweet'eart—"

You slammed down on his cock, feeling him twitch inside you before he arched his back off of the couch. His breath hitched as you watched him tremble beneath you. He groaned out in response, throwing his head back onto the couch before his hands shot up to your waist; making sure you don't lose balance.

"Simon, I— fuck I cant help it, need... need you inside me..." You slurred out, tripping over your own words.

Simon's chest rose up and down, trying to catch his breath before he lifted his head up. His gaze met yours, all hazy and fucked out of his mind. Your hands stayed on his chest for a moment, before you slowly ran your fingers down.

"Christ, you feel fuckin' heavenly, I— fuckin' 'ell..."

Simon shivered beneath you, letting out a shaky breath as he watched your hand skillfully caress the roughness of his skin. Your fingers softly traced over his scars, feeling the way he jerks every once in a while. Once your hands reached his abdomen, you slowly traced the sides of his waist.

"Not there sweet'eart, I—" The words caught in his throat as you continued teasing his waist.

A small, nervous laugh left his lips as one of his hands shot up to your wrist, trying to get your hands off of his waist. You noticed it. The way his cheeks heated up whenever your hands roamed around his waist, the way he seemed to hold the small laughter that threatened to come out of his mouth. He's ticklish.

"Bloody 'ell, not— not there," he paused for a moment. "Don't play these kind of games on me, love, fuck please." He begged softly, his cock hardening inside you.

And, that's when you felt it.

His hips stuttered before he cummed inside you, merely because of a simple touch. A small wheeze left his lips, feeling himself come undone just like that. Your eyes widened as you watched him rut his hips through his orgasm. A small, amused yelp left your lips before you moaned softly. He'd never been this sensitive before. His hand dropped from your wrist.

"Fuck!" He groaned out, feeling his whole body tremble beneath you.

Shit, you know damn well you're far from over now.

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[imnotcursed]

[oceantornadoo]

you’ve got a certain captain wrapped around your finger and he’s more than glad to be there.

it’s a celebration of your one year on the team, drinks galore at your favorite local dive in london. johnny insisted on a half-circle booth and as the person of honor, you’re smack dab between him and your captain. your captain who’s been paying your tab all night long, waving off your hands as you try to reach for your wallet.

“lieutenant, give us a dance.” gaz says with a smirk on his face. ghost, on the other side of johnny, is one too many drinks in to move, which means it’s john’s turn to scooch. except he’s leaning his head on the worn wooden backing of the booth, lost in thought. he’s seen you naked in safe houses and shared showers, so why does it feel so obscene to lift yourself over his lap? there’s barely space between his massive thighs and the table, necessitating callused paws to guide your hips over his own. it’s the scrape of denim on denim, your ass firmly over his crotch for a whole second, before he pats your hip to push you all the way. “thanks, cap.” you turn with a glimmer in your eye and he dips his hat like a gentleman of old, making you giggle in your drunken stupor.

you used to hide reactions like these, suffocated by the rigid emotional walls of the military. but now, the team’s given you a safe space to be yourself: a titan on the field and a human with emotions off it.

gaz bows to ask for your hand and you accept with a curtsy. the two of you are the best dancers on the team (not a hard competition to win) and entertain johnny with twists and turns on a dance floor of your own making. he calls out instructions in that grumbly accent of his, causing you to cry with laughter in gaz’s arms. two things happen at once: you go down on the dance floor and simon lurches off the booth. johnny catches him with quick reflexes but you’re not as lucky, landing in a pile of gaz’s limbs and your own.

someone strong lifts you up with hands tucked under your armpits, inducing a ticklish squirm you subdue with years of experience. gaz is up without help, pushing simon back from the other side so he’s straight up again. “righ’ l.t., time to get ye home.” johnny’s strong but the weight and uncoordination of a drunk simon requires gaz’s help as well. “happy anniversary, angel!” he yells out as the three stumble out of the bar and (hopefully) back towards base.

“think he’ll be ok?” despite your alcohol levels, you whip around back towards john, throwing him off guard with raised eyebrows and hands out to steady your shoulders. “man’s a human tank. i’m more worried f’r gaz an’ soap. you ok?” you nod convincingly.

sure, in your year on the team, it’s been necessary to touch your captain. hands brushing over your shoulders as he reaches for his favorite coffee cup in the highest cupboard. fingers crossing as you pour over reports into the wee hours of morning. a fist bump here and there. he slaps his men in the chest but with you he squeezes your shoulder, a movement with longer contact and more thought required. tendons and sinew coming together to acknowledge your own with practiced hand eye coordination. you don’t read into it - he’s just avoiding touching you in an uncomfortable area. you’re familiar enough to initiate it first, a friendly squeeze to his bicep after a rousing pre-battle speech. but touching him has never been like this.

you ask him to become your new dance partner and he does, hands cradling your waist with splayed fingers. your own on the breadth of his shoulders, hard and never ending. instead of the joyful twists you did with gaz, john rocks you slow and steady to the crooning beat of an 80s love song.

“didn’t know you could dance, cap.” he shrugs and it echoes through your grip on him, magnified by a hundred. “every man should be able to waltz.” there was a word he wanted to say after his last and you can’t figure it out, the staccato ending bitter in your ears. instead of pressing, you’re content to sway back and forth. it calms your spinning brain. “got any loved ones yer celebratin’ yer anniversary with?” it’s an oddly personal question, but you doesn’t acknowledge its strangeness. you sway a bit with him before answering, stepping a half foot closer.

“my family and i are celebrating on my next leave. i would celebrate with my close friends, but it’s hard to explain my position without telling them classified information.” he nodded knowingly. the music changes to a faster song but he keeps your peaceful tempo, his chest brushing your own through your well worn civvies. “no’one else?” you shake your head before realizing the implications of what he’s asking. there hasn’t been anyone else for a long time, even before you joined the team. work was busy. once you joined, it felt somehow wrong to seek companionship outside of the four men who’d been gifted to you. one more than others.

“no one else, cap.” his fingers are tracing the small of your back. you can’t tell if he knows or not. before he can say anything, you turn the questions on him. “you got someone you’re going home to?” his eyes meet yours, dark blue and smoldering. “got everythin’ i need righ’ here.” you jump a little at his words. they sober you up instantly as you realize you’re slow dancing with your superior, prolonged eye contact past what’s socially acceptable. he doesn’t let you go too far, tightening his grip on your waist. “had ‘nough?” you nod and clutch your stomach for the full effect. “take me home?” he grabs his coat and dumps it on your shoulders, the intoxicating mix of pine, soap and musk seeping into your pores. john leads you back to base with a hand on your back the whole time.

-

“c’mon, got t’ make sure you’re tucked in alrigh’.” he’s in your barracks room, private thanks to the privilege of your position. you don’t sit down on the bed but he does, seemingly exhausted by the night’s activities. “i knew you were old, but wow.” you nudge his foot to make him look up. when he does its like he’s aged five years, with a scruffier beard and deep wrinkles. “john?” you’re drunk. that’s why you say his name, why you reach out to smooth a crease on his forehead. all the while he’s quiet, content to let you play with his face.

“i’m sorry about last month.” it rolls off your tongue unbidden.

(last month. half a bottle of whiskey in his office. your ass on his desk, his hands on your waist. his beard meets your chin but before he can kiss you, you turn, letting his lips meet your cheek. “i’m sorry.” it comes out as a gasp. he doesn’t say anything, scraping his beard against your cheek. “don’t worry about it.”)

“why’d ya say that?” he murmurs. you shrug. “you seem agitated in my presence. thought it might help.” he gives you an old man groan, peeking an eye out from his hat as you giggle. “y’r killin’ me sweetheart, so i’m askin’ this once. you into this or not? i’ll go home right now.” he’s closer than you thought, almost face-to-stomach.

you pull him closer by his beard until he’s resting against your torso. the angle has to be unflattering with how you’re looking down at him, but he’s not running away screaming. “are you into me even though i turned away?” he bites out a ‘yes’ automatically. you owe him an explanation.

“i got scared. i don’t want to jeopardize my place on this team.” in a move credited to a boot camp instructor somewhere, he flips you so you’re under him on top of the covers, arms pinned by his own. “y’r permanent on this team. no matter what.” you blink at him unbelieving. “laswell picks who comes and leaves. my words are jus’ a suggestion. i’ve barely any influence.” you hardly believe that but when he’s on top of you with these sapphire eyes, it’s hard to deny him.

you kiss your captain slowly like you’ve been wanting to do for months. he captures your bottom lip with his teeth, sucking like he owns your mouth. the pace ebbs and flows, from sweet to possessive in a matter of seconds. “john, oh fuck, john.” you pant out in between kisses. he moves to your neck, sucking the soft skin there. “you gotta promise me.” you nudge him until he gives you his hand. you twist him into a pinky promise, something he didn’t know existed. “i promise, baby. now let me give you your anniversary present.”

-

idk what this is. i’m tired and hungover. pls enjoy.

[rogue4rtist]

[fxymi]

part 2

okay pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda, rin is beyond obsessed with you and your pussy.

rin, regardless of how much of an egoist he is, has never touched a girl. sure, he’s gorgeous n all but his personality doesn’t exactly scream “welcoming” and “lovely”, which is why he’s thrilled that he landed an angel like you.

you’re his first love, his first girlfriend, his first kiss, his first everything—of course he’s obsessed. he doesn’t just want you, he needs you. really, he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever leave him.

he’s devoted to you and solely you, and you are just as down bad for him as he is for you. that’s why it’s his job to take care of you and your needy little cunt that he just can’t seem to get enough of! <3

you had a bad day? no worries, he’ll pound his cock into you until you’re practically clawing at the sheets, crying and begging for more, and the only thing on your mind now is rin looking down at you through his lashes as he makes you cum one more time.

he leans down and presses chaste kisses to your jaw while you ride out your orgasm and brushes away any hair falling over your face.

“feel better?” he mumbles against the skin of your neck that’s glistening with sweat.

of course the answer is yes. if your voice isn’t too hoarse to say so, at least.

tired? he doesn’t just make cringy trash talk with his mouth, so he’ll gladly get on his knees in front of you and needily lap and suck at your clit while you weave your fingers through hair and tug on it. your thighs are clenching around his head and of course, even though he’s doing his best for you, he’ll complain about it a little.

“quit it,” he grunts, forcefully parting your thighs with his arms.

his tongue skilfully works past your folds and at your soaking pussy. he doesn’t care that his nose and lips are glossy with your arousal, he’s just focused on knowing that he’s making you feel this good. you tug on his hair a little harder, head tilting back as you let out a moan that basically shakes your body.

rin thought you were tired?

and if you’re in the mood? if you just get so needy for him? he’ll gladly oblige, no matter how busy he is. even if this means leaving you begging for his cock, you should be grateful that he’s fingering you so well and letting you cum ^^

“rin—hah—please…need you inside me,” you whine out, squirming against the soft silk sheets of the bed.

rin’s sat beside you—one hand flipping through the book he had to read for english, and the other one pistoled and almost idly pumping in and out of your hole while his thumb slowly rubs circles right above your clit.

he shoots you a sharp glare while your incessant begging interrupts whatever jay gatsby was rattling off about on the pages.

“i’m a little preoccupied, if you couldn’t tell,” he says flatly. “jesus, ‘thought you’d be grateful that i’m even taking care of your slutty fuckin’ cunt right now.”

you let out a soft noise of protest? or maybe it was just another needy mewl? whatever it was, rin sighs and caves. how was he supposed to resist when you looked at him all teary-eyed and sounded so desperate, just for him? he loved you too much for this.

“if you can stay quiet until i finish this chapter, ill give you what you want. but only if you shut up and let me get through this.”