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mostly-imagines · 1 year ago

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Sugar on the Rim vol. I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up?

No, he’s rich, not royalty.

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed.

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget.

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is.

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways.

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty.

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options.

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path.

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit.

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for.

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk.

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room.

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?”

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce.

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received.

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased.

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.”

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.”

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected.

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.”

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?”

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much.

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours.

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms.

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence.

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for.

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex.

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—”

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan.

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

part two

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

11K notes · View notes

seumyo · 3 months ago

Text

Kuroo had imagined that if he ever had a meet-cute with his future girlfriend, it would be something out of a rom-com.

Maybe she’d bump into him in the hallway and drop her books, and their hands would brush as they both reached down. Maybe they’d get locked in the school’s storage closet and have no choice but to talk, discovering they had an undeniable connection. Maybe he’d do something particularly cool in front of her—like nail an impossible volleyball save—and she’d be so impressed that she’d fall for him on the spot.

You know, a great story to tell his future kids later on.

What he did not imagine was this.

He had barely settled into his seat in chemistry lab class when the teacher rattled off instructions about the elements they’d be working with today. Kuroo, who had only half-listened, glanced at the laminated periodic table on their lab station. There were a lot of elements, and he was already regretting not paying closer attention. With a sigh, he turned to the girl beside him.

“Hey, can you check which elements we’re supposed to—”

He paused.

For one, you looked a little startled, like you hadn’t expected him to speak to you so soon. Your lips parted slightly, and your fingers thrummed against the edge of the table, but you didn’t immediately respond. Kuroo furrowed his brows.

Maybe you didn’t hear him?

Before he could repeat himself, you blinked a few times and slowly turned to the periodic table. Your expression shifted into something that could only be described as deep concentration, like you were trying to decipher some ancient text rather than a chart of chemical elements.

Seconds passed.

Then a full minute.

Kuroo’s eyebrows inched up.

Still, no answer.

“Give me a second.”

Ah, there it was.

He could see your eyes darting over the periodic table, and every few moments, you squinted slightly, as if you were trying to bring the tiny printed words into focus. Another thirty seconds passed. He tilted his head, watching as you leaned forward a little, your eyes locked on the chart like your life depended on it.

You would probably set it on fire at this point from how intense you were looking.

“…You good?” he finally asked, unable to stop the curious edge in his voice.

You straightened up so fast it was like you had been caught doing something embarrassing. Which, judging by the way you suddenly looked anywhere but at him, you probably had.

“I, um—” You hesitated, biting your lip. Then, after what seemed to be an internal debate, you let out a small sigh. “I actually, uh, forgot my glasses at home.”

Oh.

Kuroo blinked, his amusement only growing. That explained a lot.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin on his hand.

“Not terrible,” you muttered, though the way you still weren’t looking at him suggested otherwise. “I can still see—just not, you know, well.”

That made him chuckle.

“Well, that’s going to be a little problem, isn’t it?”

You let out a small, almost defeated laugh. “Probably.”

Kuroo grinned and turned his attention back to the chart, skimming for the elements the teacher had mentioned. “Alright, let’s see… We’ve got—” He rattled off a few element names and their symbols, glancing at you to make sure you were following along.

Then, as if remembering you had an actual task to contribute to, you quickly dropped your gaze back on the textbook for reference. “You don’t have to—”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he interrupted smoothly. “What were the elements again? Aluminum, zinc, and—what was the last one?”

Still looking a little overwhelmed by the sheer speed at which this whole interaction was happening, you answered, “Um. Magnesium.”

“Magnesium, got it.” Kuroo tapped the page, making sure you could at least see where he was pointing. “Here, let’s work on this together. I’ll read it out, and you can double-check if I’m not mistaken.”

You let out a small, barely-there laugh—so quiet that if Kuroo hadn’t been paying attention, he would’ve missed it. But he was paying attention.

He had been ever since you sat next to him, really. He realized that he paid attention to you more than the teacher himself.

Kuroo read the information to you, sometimes exaggerating just for fun—“And this here, my dear lab partner, is the majestic zinc, element number 30, the unsung hero of batteries everywhere”—which earned him an amused shake of your head. You weren’t exactly talkative, per se, but he caught glimpses of amusement in the way you entertained his nonsense.

This must be the manifestation of that one tweet he posted, “My future wife is probably fake laughing at her boyfriend’s lame jokes rn. Be patient, Queen; a true clown is on the way.”

Now that you weren’t caught off guard, you nodded along, quickly jotting things down in your notes. It was then that Kuroo realized something else.

You hadn’t even introduced yourselves.

“You know,” he said, smiling a little, “I think we skipped a step.”

You paused, looking at him curiously, then back at your worksheet. “What?”

“The whole name thing.” He tapped his pen against the worksheet. “I asked you to do something before I even said hi. That’s pretty rude, huh?”

For the first time since he spoke to you, you actually met his gaze. And then, to his surprise, you cracked a small smile.

“A little, yeah.”

Kuroo chuckled. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

You tilted your head slightly, and then, like you were amused at how backwards this whole conversation had gone, you finally replied, “[Last Name] [Name].”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “And don’t worry—I’ll be your eyes for today. And for as long as you’d like.”

“Are you this flirty with every person you meet?”

“Only the ones that know their way around a calculator despite not even looking at it directly.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but he could see how his jokes were getting to you. By the time the teacher walked around to check your progress, Kuroo had already decided that this was way better than any cliché shoujo manga meet-cute.

Because really, what could be more romantic than offering to be someone’s eyes for the day—and maybe even for forever?

BONUS:

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prosypepper · 4 months ago

Text

wet dreamz

summary: it’s your (and your bf’s/husband’s/hookup’s/whatever’s) first time together. .

warnings: nsfw for all so 18+ mdni!; virginity loss on both parts, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v, talks about virginity, college au (gojo); hookups, fingering, dominant kento, talks about virginity (nanami); unprotected p in v, rough sex, little bit of dirty talk, seduction (toji); oral, friends to lovers (geto).

pepper's notes: IT'S finally here...thank you all soo much for 1k i am so so appreciative & i am SO SO sorry it took me this long to get this out. i've been going through it so thank u all for understanding. i love all of u so much thank u all. MWAH MWAH.

satoru gojo

nervous? check. horny? check. praying to god you can’t see the huge erection in his pants? also check.

maybe satoru was an idiot for telling you he wasn’t a virgin, when he was in fact the biggest virgin in the universe, possibly. and maybe you were an idiot for talking him up and inflating his ego even more—and avoiding the conversation about whether or not you were a virgin, too.

either way, satoru’s big talk and your enabling caused you to be in this position—stradding your almost-boyfriend’s lap, desperately and sloppily moving your lips against his. silently, your pray in your mind that you’re doing everything right, threading your fingers through the white locks of satoru’s hair and trying to keep up with the pace of his enthusiastic make-out.

“do y-you—wanna…” satoru breathes out as he pulls away for a second, “you know.” he shrugs, looking off to the side out of anxiety for your answer. your own eyes flicker down for just a second, stomach flipping over at the question.

you’ve been through the innocent stages—the cute crushing and passing looks—and now, it’s time to own up to all that talking from the not-so-innocent stage you’ve built.

“mhm,” you hum, refusing to look at satoru just as much as he is to you. it’s obvious how nervous you are, palms sweating and gulping. knees digging into the soft plush of your dorm bed mattress, you’re readjusting your weight over and over because you can’t sit still.

satoru’s hands squeeze your hips, slightly pressing you down to feel the bulge that’s been prodding against his pants for about thirty minutes. eyes widening, you look at satoru—who’s about to burst. his face is all red and flushed, and his lip is pulled in between his perfect teeth.

shit, he’s about to lose it.

impatient, satoru ushers you to move off of his lap and onto the bed, swiftly rearranging your bodies to where you’re trapped beneath him. butterflies twirl in your stomach, more intense as the seconds go by, and you swear you’re about to throw up when satoru pulls his shirt off.

he’s gorgeous, obviously—but his toned torso and reddened skin from all his blushing are so pretty up close. satoru’s fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, eagerly pulling them down before you grab his wrist as a reflex. he stops and looks you in the eye, letting you settle down for a second before you let go. it’s charming, really—he wants nothing more than for you to want this.

because satoru’s wanted this for so long. he wants it bad.

lengthy fingers work your shorts and underwear down all at once, and your thighs snap shut as to not expose yourself even more. satoru’s hands rest on your knees, rubbing small circles while his eyes trace over your body.

“you okay, baby?” he asks, voice just the littlest bit shaky.

“huh—oh, yeah, yes,” you mumble in response, “are you?”

“yeah—yes,” satoru answers, repeating after you, looking like he’s about to throw up. yet his anxiety doesn’t stop him from shoving his bottoms down, allowing his heavy length to spring free and finally be shown.

to say the least, it scares you even more knowing you’ll have to take that. satoru is huge, terribly long and painfully hard from all the teasing you’ve done to one another. you wince when satoru goes to separate your knees, and your hands immediately go to push at his chest.

“satoru,” you whisper, connecting your own hazy eyes with his, “i—i know that you’ve…done this before.” you bite your lip, blinking softly.

“um—yeah,” satoru deeply says, trying to focus on what you’re saying—but damn you look so pretty underneath him, and your skin is so soft. you’re so gorgeous and he’s once again about to lose it.

“i just…” your eyes flicker to the side, “i’ve never done this before. s-so…be gentle, please?”

oh, god.

satoru’s heart is going to burst out of his chest.

“it’s okay, i—i’ll be gentle. promise,” satoru assures you, bringing a hand to stroke your cheek. his touch makes you let out a deep sigh, and you feel so delicate in his grasp. vulnerable enough to finally separate your knees, slowly dropping them down and exposing your sinfully drenched cunt.

satoru’s face rightfully goes pale. everything he’s ever wanted is in front of him—you’re giving yourself up to him. satoru gojo. the random guy you met in class a month or so ago that was not so random now.

as the butterflies circle in his stomach, satoru sweetly trails his fingers down the inside of your thighs, forcing the pulse in between your legs to grow into a harsh heartbeat. he notices every small movement—the twitch of your legs and how intensely your chest heaves—and he believes you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“careful, careful,” satoru mutters to himself, taking long seconds in between each of his movements. he doesn’t want to startle you—and even more, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

grunting lightly, the white haired man lifts your legs and rests the back of your thighs on top of his. this gets you even closer to him, both of you can feel the raw heat radiating off of one another’s bodies. satoru takes his length in his hand and taps it against your sticky folds, teasing your sensitive nerves and himself in the process.

“i’m gonna—gonna put it in now, okay?” satoru uneasily states.

“wait—but—oh!” you gasp as the tip—and only the tip—of satoru’s cock pushes past the resistant walls of your cunt, molding the tight space to fit him snugly. the stretch burns, it’s a sharp pain that shoots through you with no remorse. “mm—satoru, it hurts,” you whine, pushing against gojo’s built abdomen.

yet when he doesn’t budge, you look up at his eyes, which are glued to scene below him. he can’t help it—because he’s not just in you, no—he’s impaling you with his girth, you’re stretched so far around him by just his tip. he felt guilty at first at the thought of hurting you, but now, nothing is in his mind except for that image.

“satoru!” you shout, snapping the man’s attention to you. satoru’s eyes are glowing with lust, his cheeks red and flustered. little to your knowledge, he’s already on the cusp of an orgasm—hell, he was there before he’d even got his shirt off.

“i’m sorry—shit—i’m sorry, baby,” satoru babbles, before dislodging himself from your hole, strings of slick lewdly connecting the tip of his cock to your folds. “fuck—i’m so sorry,” he grunts, just as a few huge ropes of translucent white cum spurt from his cock, coating your abdomen in the substance.

your eyes are wide in surprise at how quickly it all happened, not even having a moment in your mind to process that you just made the satoru gojo cum in a few seconds. all it took was a little kissing and some gruesomely lewd imagery—and he was putty in your hands.

satoru falls atop you, becoming dead weight as his post-orgasmic state forces him to give out. his chest heaves against yours, his snow white hair tickles your shoulder. as much as you want to push him away—there’s something awfully sweet about the interaction. he’s close, closer than he’d allowed himself to be previously.

shaky breaths are shared between you, as is the warmth from your bodies—the warmth from your hearts—and all the emotions overcoming satoru are all too obvious. you shuffle around one another into a more comfortable position, until satoru’s head is on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“are you okay?” you whisper, threading your fingers through satoru’s hair to twirl a few strands.

“yeah,” he sighs, cuddling up to you even more. there’s something hidden in the way he’s acting, but you don’t mind for now—you allow the vulnerability to sink in.

because it’s way too obvious this boy was lying about not being a virgin.

kento nanami

the world of hookups was difficult to navigate.

sure, you were technically trying to find a boyfriend—but everyone knows dating apps aren’t really the best thing for that. it had landed you a few matches and a couple of okay dates; but you hadn’t been quite as far with anyone as you had made it with your current date.

kento nanami, a rather distinguished businessman who had “just looking to relieve some stress” in his bio, had taken you out to an expensive restaurant and then to a very expensive hotel afterwards. whatever charm this man had worked a million times over on you—you weren’t sure if it was his demeanor or that rolex on his wrist—but whatever it was, it absolutely lured you all the way into a king size bed with nanami.

he was still mostly dressed, only his shoes were off and placed next to the bed, and his powder blue dress shirt was unbuttoned about halfway down, revealing his toned chest and a rather uncharacteristic gold chain that was previously hidden. nanami’s hair was still in perfect place, not having even broken a sweat.

you, on the other hand, have your dressed hiked up to just above your legs and the top tucked underneath your tits—pretty much on full display for kento besides the fact he’s behind you, strong legs prying your own open.

your thigh twitches when kento runs his fingers up and down the soft flesh, your hands resting on his biceps to keep yourself from running away. quite interested in what was in store for the night, you weren’t going to fight back—honestly, who would run away from a man as gorgeous as kento?

“do you do this often?” you shakily ask to break the thick silence, staring down at your bodies.

“do what, sweetheart?” kento’s monotone voice replies, using his free hand to reach up and grab under your jaw.

“this. take girls to hotels to…do stuff,” you allude to the same thing he’s doing now, turning your head with kento’s hand to look up at him. your soft lashes bat at the blond man as he chuckles, deep, giving just the slightest smile at your questions.

“not too often,” he simply says, kissing right next to your lips, “why?”

“uhm,” you croak, losing track of thought the moment his lips touched your face, “i don’t know. i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” kento softly chuckles, letting go of your head to rest on the side of his chest, “just relax, okay? i just want to take care of you.”

just relax, breathe, you repeat to yourself over and over again while you listen to kento’s steady heartbeat. your heart is racing but inevitably slows for the time being listening to the slow thump of your hookup’s heart. his fingers continue to trace small shapes over your thighs, every now and again moving just a little higher.

kento is painfully hard under his dress pants, yet he’s restraining himself for now—because he’s going to do what he came here to do first.

“can i touch you, love?” nanami asks, pecking a small kiss to your temple afterwards.

“yes, mhm,” you murmur, thickly swallowing in anticipation as his fingers begin to inch towards your heat. you can feel how wet you are—but you’re rather embarrassed for nanami to find out just how easily he riled you up.

“let me ask you something,” kento begins, dipping his fingers into your folds to feel the amount of slick conjured up, “are you a virgin?” and he’s not asking in a weird way like pretty much every other man you’ve known; he’s asking genuinely, because he has the gut feeling to be gentle.

“uh—i—,” you mumble, before finally admitting a small, “yes, i’m sorry.”

“aw,” kento coos, beginning to run his fingers over your aching heat, “don’t apologize, i’ll be gentle.” although you’re appreciative to his gracefulness, you begin to wonder just how rough he usually was—and those sinful visuals make you throb against nanami’s fingers.

“okay, please,” you hiss, the sensations of kento’s fingers working your cunt running through your body. hands grab at his arms tighter, your sensitivity making it difficult for you to stay still.

you’re almost sure that you’ve never been so turned on before, and your elevated responses to nanami’s simple touches are an attestment to that. his middle finger focuses on your sensitive bud, going between movements of flicking and slowly rubbing circles around and around.

“how does this feel?” nanami questions, watching every move—every twitch—that you make. he sees just how new this is to you, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him just a little bit prideful.

“good. so good,” you babble, eyes squeezing shut when kento begins to pick up his pace. the pleasure runs all through you, intense, that orgasmic feeling creeping up on you much sooner than you’d ever been able to do yourself.

kento’s like a magician. he makes your hips wriggle and your legs twitch effortlessly, he causes your face to contort in a indecent way without even trying, it seems. hell, the increasing pace of his fingers on your clit is almost making you crawl away, your nails are digging into his skin and you don’t even realize it.

“stay still,” kento commands, using his free hand to press down right on your abdomen, “don’t fight it, darling. don’t fight it.”

his words calm you down just a little, instead you just stay in place while your body jolts every other second from the sensitive pleasure he’s causing within you. breathless whines fall from your lips in the utmost pathetic way, signaling just how good you feel to kento.

“what is it, hm? tell me,” kento tells you, staying at an intense, fast pace just to make you lose your mind a little more.

“i think,” you whine, breath hitching as the feeling in your tummy intensifies, “i might cum.” as embarrassed as you may be to admit it, you simply cannot help what falls from your mouth. it’s all kento’s fault.

“you can cum, my love,” kento assures, pressing a kiss into your hair, “you can do it.”

somehow, his voice erases every anxious thought in your mind, your body responding with nothing but pathetic moans and a very, terribly, intense orgasm you didn’t even recognize as being so close. kento can feel on his fingers when you finally cum, chuckling once again to himself at how easily he coaxed an orgasm out of you.

it’s cute, really.

you lay back on him after calming down—with your hair all messy and face somewhat sweaty—you’re so adorable in his arms, kento thinks he might just have to turn this into more than a one night stand.

toji fushiguro

if toji had known what he was getting himself into with you, he’d probably accepted that deal from shiu wayyy earlier.

bossy, crude and mean—you were everything toji had ever dreamed of in a woman. the type that didn’t take shit, you’d go toe-to-toe with a man twice your size without hesitation, and there was something about it toji truly admired.

after his first time meeting you, he understood why shiu had told him not to fuck with you.

how could he not, though?

toji was about to fuck you right now.

he couldn’t help the natural charm he used on everyone, and especially women, and he couldn’t help that you fell for it, either. shiu would be pissed if he ever found out about it—hell, he’d kill him—but you only live once, right? there’s no way toji could turn down an offer such as this from a bombshell like you.

“you sure you’re not married?” you’re purring into toji’s ear, running your fingers over his chest, “you’re so handsome, toji.”

every bit of sultry poison that spills from your lips is music to toji’s ears, making his heart thump just a little harder and the tent in his pants to get just a bit stiffer. his big arm his lazily wrapped around your waist, and that sleazy grin of his pulls at his lips at your question.

“yes, ma’am,” toji says with a nod, holding up his left hand to show the absence of a wedding band on his ring finger.

with that, you throw a leg over his lap, fixing yourself to straddle toji’s lap and rest your arms around his neck. looking him straight in the eyes, you’re satisfied that your little plan had come together so easily.

toji was wrapped around your pretty, manicured finger—and he had no clue. that little charm he was so sure of was nothing in comparison to yours.

“do you want to fuck me, toji?” you ask, glossed lips forming a pretty little pout and your head cocking to the side innocently. toji’s adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly, a little crack in the confident and cocky façade he put on in front of you.

“fuck yeah,” toji whispers, hands gripping at your waist.

to say the least, toji really meant that little “fuck yeah,” because it only takes him a few seconds to rip your clothes—and his—off and flip you over. he’s in a daze when he pries your legs open, staring straight at your messy, wet pussy—immediately lifting one of your legs up and attaching his calloused fingers to your clit.

“jesus,” toji breathes, in utter awe at how soaked you are, his eyes never leaving your body. you hum in response to the pleasure, softly biting your lower lip and studying the broad man in front of you. toji quickly uses your slick to lube up his cock, grunting at the small chill that runs up his spine from finally allowing himself some friction.

growing ever impatient, you shimmy your hips down to signal you’re ready. the squelch that reverberates through the room when toji finally slides in is downright disgusting, and you sigh in content at the feeling of being stretched open.

toji immediately groans, loud, and throws his head back at how you feel—tight and warm around him, greedily sucking his length in the more he pushes into your walls. smiling devilishly at toji, you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in even closer, giving in to your desires and pushing him to do the same.

“stop that,” toji roughly commands, squeezing your thigh to keep his self-control in check—or at least try his best to. you know what he’s saying is only for his own benefit.

but that’s not what you want—and toji should know by now you got whatever you wanted.

“stop what?” you question, interlocking your heels behind him. a finger twirls your hair as you look at toji dumbly, as if there wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind. yet every move you make is orchestrated to a t, pushing and pushing toji to finally snap and just give you what you want.

what you need.

“fuck,” toji’s moaning the curse over and over when he slowly begins to move, gently rocking his hips back and forth to meet yours, “you feel so fucking good, oh my god.” he praises you so gently under his breath, silently hoping you won’t hear him as to not inflate your ego anymore.

“tojiii,” you whine, a small pout forming once again on your pretty lips, “harder.”

toji shakes his head, whisps of black hair moving around in unison with it, refusing to look into your eyes. he looks anywhere else—your tits, your stomach, your cunt—because he’s afraid he’ll give in the moment he finally catches your pupils.

but fuck, are you convincing.

“harder?” toji repeats, “fuckin’ harder?”

his hips pick up speed at the same time that his hands come to grab your arms, affectively pinning you down to the mattress. you allow your legs to spread lewdly, opening up fully for toji to use.

the tip of toji’s cock prods at your cervix, the pleasurable pressure going through your whole body. he’s going at you like an animal, harshly impaling your cunt with his girth, all senses of caring and restriction thrown out the window.

though you might regret it in the morning, you’re going to get what you want.

suguru geto

“suguru, stop moving.”

the long haired man winces and holds his breath at the sting of the alcohol, gripping onto the counter you’re sat upon. your knees rest at his sides, barely holding suguru in place, nevertheless not allowing him to move due to your fussing when he did so.

he had gotten into a fight with some guy at a party, causing him to show up to your dorm battered and bruised with a few cuts over his handsome face. now, a couple clear band-aids litter his skin, and suguru’s eyes stay on yours in hopes you’ll look into his.

all the while, you wonder why suguru had come to you out of all the people (and women) he knew. there was an unsaid tension between you two, sometimes sexual and other times just tension.

the two of you were idiots in love, and yet, neither one of you had the guts to say anything about it.

“there we go,” you sigh, running your thumb over the last bandage placed above suguru’s eyebrow. finally, you look suguru straight in the eyes for only a second, catching his dreamy gaze.

“you’re so pretty,” suguru faintly whispers, giving you the tiniest little smile. he’d had the habit of calling you pretty and gorgeous in a “hyping you up” sort of way—but this was different. he meant it.

so much so, in fact, it only takes him about three seconds to kiss you. it’s a long peck, mostly catching you by surprise, before he leans back with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“suguru—,”

“i’m so sorry, fuck,” he apologizes, paralyzed in place with his hands still gripping the counter. his eyes remain locked with yours, the fear of ruining your friendship behind them.

“suguru,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to the sides of his face. you rest them there firmly, feeling the increasing heat of his cheeks under your palms. pulling his face towards yours, you egg him on to kiss you again, this time with reciprocation on your part.

it’s hot, you’re swapping spit with the dark-haired man without a second thought, allowing your tongues to interlock and twist around each other. butterflies flutter in your tummy, but you swallow them and let yourself relax into it all.

the rest comes easily—all of that tension built up for years at this point is finally coming to a head, giving in to all of those desires you’d only had in the comfort of your bedroom. your arms rest over suguru’s shoulders, your hands tangle in his hair, while his hands come to squeeze you wherever he can grab—your waist, your ass—anywhere he can place his greedy fingers and grasp onto.

“let me—,” gasp, “—eat you out, please,” suguru begs in between kisses, barely allowing himself to heave for air.

those annoying butterflies pick up again—god, you could throw up at his suggestion—yet instead you’re pushing his head down, down, until he’s on his knees in front of you. your shorts are quickly tugged off along with your panties, leaving you in nothing but a big t-shirt on the counter of your tiny bathroom.

the room is filled with raw lust, as are suguru’s eyes when he finally gets a glimpse of your soaked heat. it’s a million times better than he could’ve imagined, no mental image could ever be like the real thing—warm, real and wet, right in front of his face; and all for him.

suguru starts off slow, littering small kisses along your inner thighs while parting your knees, until there’s enough room to fit his head closer to your cunt. he gives small kisses to your folds, barely suckling on your clit to pull small gasps of moans from your throat.

“fuck, suguru,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair and giving a light tug.

“hmm?” he hums into your cunt, vibrating against your core in the most sinister way. your words are long forgotten after that, only giving a big sigh in response.

suguru’s tongue dips from between his lips to lick a long stripe up your cunt, going just a tad slower to focus on your clit. his tongue circles around and around the swollen bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your abdomen and down your legs.

already, you can feel that tiny knot begin to form the longer suguru goes on, becoming more intense by the second. he’s harsh, vulgar sucking and slurping sounding throughout the room. the counter below you is soaked in your arousal, as is the lower half of suguru’s face.

you’re just that messy—and he loves it.

he’s living for it.

suguru didn’t even realize how much he loved you—how much he adored and admired you, inside and out—until this. until he was down on his knees, in front of you, begging for you without any words coming out of his mouth. until he had finally allowed himself to look into your eyes deeper than ever before.

“i love you—mmph—so much,” suguru hums into your folds, just as he’s taking that knot to the verge of snapping.

“i-love-you-too-suguru, please don’t stop,” you mutter, throwing your head back against the mirror, before you can even realize what you’re saying back—but it all comes so naturally you don’t even think twice. it’s not even orgasm brain—it’s true, just as true as when he said it to you.

suguru’s tongue completely focuses on your clit—swirling around and sucking the swollen bud until you’re almost thrown over the edge, finally toppling over with a spew of ‘i love you’s and ‘please don’t stop’s. your body goes limp against the mirror of the bathroom, chest dramatically heaving for many moments while suguru helps you ride through the feeling. he stands up and wipes his face off with the back of his hand, smiling to himself at the vision of a fucked-out you who had just confessed your feelings to him.

one of your eyes finally creeps open after a few minutes, only to be met with suguru giving you a shit-eating grin, his hand resting atop your thigh. he can feel how delicate you are at the moment; he doesn’t want you to run away and lock him out of your life just because you told him how you feel—but you wouldn’t do that anyway.

suguru confessed first, after all.

once again thank u all so much. i love u.

4K notes · View notes

cosmoszyn · 13 days ago

Text

the other half (of an airpod) | caleb.

✩ synopsis: you distractedly leave the other half of your airpod on the kitchen counter while you watch porn in your room, prompting your roommate's curiosity.

✩ pairing: roommate!caleb x afab!reader / wc: 7.9k

✩ cw: porn watching, pet names (pip, baby, honey), masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, caleb’s pull out game is WEAK, and he kinda invades ur privacy idk, emotional sex, porn with plot, caleb doesnt shut the fuck up during sex, eventual romance

✩ crossposted in my ao3

✩ a/n: a day late to caleb's bday lol :p

It was a normal evening.

It was supposed to be a normal evening.

You were just doing the same things you routinely do whenever your work busted your ass–a regimen that consists of your vibrator on one hand, and your phone on the other. And of course, one airpod in and the other one out, just in case your roommate, Caleb, calls you from the living room.

Unfortunately, you needed to fall back into that routine tonight. Again. For the fifth time this week. And so, immediately after coming home, with both airpods in your ears, you make your bed with one hand gripping on your phone in your dimly lit room, scrolling through dozens of videos at a porn website–trying and failing to find one that fits whatever sexual fantasy you are up tonight.

Roleplay? Not really.

BDSM? Eh, maybe for another day.

Voyeurism? Feels a little boring tonight.

Distractedly and way too grossly absorbed in your mission, you make your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water while you’re already on the seventh page of the website.

“Preparin’ for bed this early?” Your roommate calls out to you in the living room, albeit muffled by the earbuds. You pull one airpod from your ear and place them unsuspectingly on the counter as you pour yourself a glass.

“Hmm? What was that?” You ask while fixated on the device.

Caleb repeats the question, glancing at you from the sofa, “You’re sleepin’ early. Tired?”

“Oh, yeah. Sleepy as hell,” you murmur, returning to your room with one hand on your phone that’s on the ninth page of the website, a glass full of water, and one airpod forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Alright, g’night,” Caleb says with a wave of his hand, watching you disappear from his peripheral vision.

And it was supposed to be a normal evening.

Because as you were burying yourself atop the blankets, tapping on the perfect ‘amateur sex and creampied by new boyfriend!’ video you found at the start of the tenth page to indulge yourself with, Caleb waltzes his way through the kitchen and sees the other half of your airpod sitting invitingly on the countertop.

You pull a small vibrator from underneath your pillow, clicking it open to the lowest setting. The couple in the video begins shakily, both their upper faces out of the frame, lenses focusing on their unhurried kissing. With a gulp, you lightly press the toy against your clothed crotch, hovering over your clit.

Curiously, Caleb picks up the airpod on the counter.

The video pauses, but you ignore the warning sign, tapping the other half of your airpod to play it again. The man in the video glides his fingers over the skin of his partner, hands grazing over her perky nipples, eliciting a whine from her, and down, down, and down to her covered and sopping cunt. He drags his fingertips lazily over the cute baby blue panties, collecting the dampness from her slit. Your breath hitches, pulling your underwear to the side as you press the vibrator closer to your clit with one hand and the other grabbing the hem of your shirt, biting onto it.

Caleb presses the airpod against his ear.

Another pause, but you tap the other half again exasperatedly.

Caleb could barely make out the noises. He thought it was just the usual white noise for sleeping that you would play in the background. After all, the sound of air conditioning from the video in the first seconds could be classified as that. But as soon as the noises from the AC were overshadowed by the slow and heavy breathing then to small kisses to the most obscene and downright filthy moans, he freezes.

The woman is begging through high-pitched whines. Pleading that her partner pushes his fucking fingers in her, instead of teasing her like she wasn’t his girlfriend. The man lowly chuckles in her ear, slipping his hands into her panties, lips hovering across her cheek.

“Hm? Girlfriend? Since when?”

“N-Not fair! I already–ah! Asked you ‘ta be m-mine!”

“Really? My sweetheart asked?”

“Mmm! Mmhmm!”

“But why should I touch you here? You filthy girl. Letting yourself be touched by your friend. You’d let anyone touch you, huh? That’s how needy you are, hm? D’you need my fingers? Where do you need it? Use your big girl words, baby.”

Caleb’s cheeks flush and heat rushes everywhere in his body.

It was supposed to be a normal evening.

Until it wasn’t.

Without another second to waste, he pads through the small space of your apartment.

You pull your panties down to your thighs, spreading your legs atop your mattress, pressing the vibrator harder to your clit. With a shaky exhale, you let go of your phone on your breasts, grabbing another longer vibrator underneath your pillow. You press the longer one into your entrance, tapping on the power thrice–to its maximum setting, and slowly push into your wet cunt. You bite back a moan, saliva collecting on the hem of your shirt. The woman in the video moans louder as her partner pushes another finger in her vagina, the other hand deliberately circling around her clit.

“Oh my good girl likes when I rub it here and fuck my fingers into her huh?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the longer vibrator hits the hilt.

A knock to the door.

“Hey uh pip?”

Fuck.

Your eyes fly open as you spit out your shirt, hands frozen in your crotch. “Y-Yeah, Caleb? What’s up?” You say shakily, in between breaths.

“You left your other airpod out in the kitchen, you need it?”

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

“No! Uh– fuck– Just leave it by the shelf near the door!” You yell out, helplessly ignoring the relentless vibrating of the toy inside you and unable to pull it away from your clit.

Shit, did you lock the door?

“Are you sure? It might be important–”

“I’m fucking sure, Caleb! Don’t listen to my shit!” You choke, fingers trembling over your toys settled in your pussy while the video continues to play in the background.

“Oh baby she’s clenching for me, you close? Hmm?”

“Just put it on the shelf!” You repeat, finding the strength to pull the toys out–to no avail.

“I’ll just come in, okay? I’ll give you your airpod–”

“Don’t you fucking dare–!”

Caleb swings the door open.

“Hi,” you gulp.

“P-Please don’t stop, please! Put it back in!”

He sees you breathing heavily with one airpod in your ear, moonlight filtering through your sheer curtains, and beads of sweat trickling down your temple.

“Hey,” Caleb replies, darting his eyes on your body.

Fully engulfed under the sheets.

“Just leave my airpod by the dresser,” you exhale, eyes glazing over the shadows of his taut muscles behind his shirt.

“Okay,” he breathes out, his gaze never leaving your figure and feet planted to the floor as if he didn’t hear what you asked him to do. “You seem to be panting heavily. You okay?” He asks, words rolling off his tongue slowly. You swallow thickly, “Of course, yeah. J-Just a little hot. I think my AC’s acting up,” you grit.

“Really?” Caleb raises his hand to the direction of the wind, “Seems fine to me.”

“She’s begging so prettily for me, aren’t ‘cha? You want me to put it back in?”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, eyes unreadable. There was no movement underneath the sheets, your lips are slightly parted, and a half lidded look on your irises.

“Caleb,” you call out.

He takes a step forward, “Yes?”

He can feel his bulge hardening as he waits expectantly for your words.

“Ngh- ugh- thank you! Thank you! Fuck that feels good!”

“The other half of the airpod. Leave it by the dresser,” you say casually like you don’t have a woman moaning in your ear and a vibrator shoved up your clenching pussy.

Caleb huffs, eyes lingering at the earbud “Right.”

“Don’t put it in,” you warn, noticing the way he watches the earbud like a hawk. “Why not?” Caleb asks. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Just don’t or else I’ll get mad.”

“Feels good, baby? Right here feels good?”

Caleb fiddles with the airpods between his fingers, signalling the on and off of the video. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting patiently for your roommate to leave you alone.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I–”

“Fine,” he relents, placing the lone device on your dresser. You expect him to leave.

“Where’s your phone?” He asks, shifting his weight to his other foot.

“Caleb.”

He throws his arms in the air, “Just askin’ geez.”

Perspiration continues to trickle down the sides of your face with an evident blush on your cheeks.

“Why don’t we take your sheets off? You’re sweatin’ like crazy,” he murmurs, stalking over your trembling figure.

“No, Caleb! Stop right there!” You beg.

“Oh my good girl came a lot, didn’t she? Hm? She came a lot, didn’t she?”

Oh fuck.

“What? I’ll just help you out, ‘s all,” he shrugs, fixated on your blushing skin, lips slightly parted, and glazed eyes staring at his biceps.

You must think he’s dumb enough not to hear the low vibrations of your toy from underneath the piles of sheets.

“Y-You–fuck–you can help me by leaving and locking the door on your way out,” you huff. He blinks at you as he stands beside your bed, his shadow looming over you. “No need to be hostile,” he says, reaching to the end of the blanket. “I’m sure you’re just having trouble sleeping, right? I’ll just lay beside you like we always do when we were kids,” he continued, gently pulling the sheet away from your iron grip.

“Please fuck me next, god please.”

You gulp. “Caleb, stop,” you beg, eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

He tilts his head in curiosity, “Why? I’ll just lay beside you, I promise.”

“Aren’t ‘cha greedy, your pussy’s just swallowin’ me up and clenchin’ hard.”

Caleb tugs the duvet from you as you protest, “It’s embarrassing, I’m a grown woman already–!”

He drags the sheets away from you, exposing your figure.

There you are in your full glory–a smaller vibrator and phone tossed to your side as it continues to show two people fucking like bunnies and panties down to your thighs. Your legs are quivering with every rhythmic vibration from the shoved toy in your pussy, clit swollen, and lips drenched.

“Caleb!” You hiss, both from the cold air and embarrassment, scrambling to pull out the toys away from your crotch. “You assho–!”

“Oh baby. Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

You freeze in your tracks, slowly darting your gaze to your childhood friend standing across your bed, his pupils blown out and lips slightly parted. You swear you could almost see him stick out his tongue and pant like a dog in heat. At this point, you can barely feel any pleasure from the toy in your cunt, just pure torture and discomfort.

“Ugh! F-Fuck! Hah… You feel so fuckin’ good!”

“C-Caleb?” You whisper, hands itching to grab the blanket and pull out your vibrator from your legs. Your voice cuts Caleb out from his daze.

“Oh baby,” he repeats in a pout, kneeling to your mattress, prompting you to pull yourself away from him, “What are you doing? What are you doin’ with this– this… atrocious thing?” He asks, peering into your crotch. “And what are you doin’ watching this disgusting thing?” He continues, stealing a glimpse of your phone before shutting it close, zipping the sultry moans in your ear.

“You could’ve just asked me to help you, baby. Right? You should know that,” he rambles, fingers hovering closer.

“Don’t–!”

“Shh, shhh it’s okay. It’s okay. Caleb’s got you,” he yaps, as if his brain is shut and dead, eyes on laser focus and preying on your poor clenching pussy.

“Caleb!” You call out, shaking him out from a trance. Caleb shakes his head, turning to you, “Yes?” He asks, as if he isn’t settling between your legs. “Leave, please,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes. He frowns and he does his stupid head tilt thing that he always seems to do to get what he wants from you.

“Why?” He demands.

“I-It’s weird! And god I just want some time alone and you’re here looking at my pathetic state–it’s not even hot and sexy!” You complain, pulling the blanket to your lap. He raises a brow at you but you dart your gaze elsewhere, fixating on the crinkles of your sheets underneath your palms.

“Hey,” he begins.

You don’t budge.

“Hey.”

Caleb takes your chin between his fingers and gently pulls it forward, urging you to look at him. “Who said you look pathetic and ‘not hot and sexy’? Hm?” He murmurs, inching closer to you. “I’m more appalled you didn’t come to me for help.”

“We’re friends, Caleb. Friends don’t ask you to help you get an orgasm!” You retort with furrowed brows and a scowl.

“I do.”

“What–?”

You could only stare at him owlishly and your mouth agape.

“You know I’d do anythin’ you ask me to, baby,” he coos, “This one isn’t any different.”

“Oh god, no. This would make things weirder between us and I don’t want that. Not in a million years, Caleb. No way…” The words slowly die in your throat as he only peers into your personal space earnestly, his breath fanning your cheeks.

“Things have never been normal for us, ever. And I’ve had enough with holdin’ back. So you can either let me help you or we remain tiptoeing around each other forever,” he whispers, thumb caressing your cheek.

You swallow thickly, weighing your options. You glance from Caleb’s eyes to his lips, heart thumping against your chest wildly. The incessant vibrating between your crotch turned into agony minutes ago and there seems to be no other way around the situation. With a soft sigh and a bite inside your cheek, you slowly peel the blanket away from you, exposing your shaking legs.

Caleb merely spares a glance on your vulnerable crotch, removing the lone airpod in your ear. “You trust me to take care of you?” He asks in a low voice. You shy away from his intense stare, nodding.

“I need your big girl words, baby,” he muttered, grabbing your chin again, turning you to him, “Do you trust me to take care of you?”

You slowly blink at him, drowning in the cosmos of his eyes and studying every freckle, mole, and blemish on his skin. With bated breath, you say, “Yes, Caleb. Please… Please take care of me.”

“Then we won’t need this,” he declares, pulling himself away from you and wasting no time to pull out the vibrator from your vagina. “Careful!” You hiss from the soreness, clawing into your sheets.

Your roommate chuckles, “I’m sorry, baby. We had to get it out of the way.”

But before you could glare at him, his palms reached for your cheeks, cradling your face with adoration that you were sure you could melt from. “Let me take care of you, okay?” He mumbled, leaning his forehead on yours, pupils dilated and boring into yours. You were floored at the sudden drop of atmosphere within the room, but you were not one to complain. Not when you have the man you’ve thought of when watching all those porn for the past months is within your reach.

“And for me to take care of you, you’ll let me do anything, right?” He asks. You could barely muster a reply with the way you forgot to breathe in the close proximity of your supposed roommate.

“Caleb…”

He mentions your name back, the tip of his nose grazing against yours, “Hmm?” He steals a glimpse of your lips before looking back at your irises.

“Can you just kiss me?” You exhale.

Caleb smiles, one that reaches his eyes, turning them into small squints. Without hesitation, his lips touch yours, barely brushing each other. Until he grabs the back of your head and locks his mouth into yours, eliciting a moan from you. He feels like he might actually ascend into heaven. He dreamt of this moment for as long as he can remember, always daydreaming and losing himself on the thought of how your whimpers would sound like. How your lips felt like. And now that Caleb is here and you’re here with him, he feels like he might actually be in the clouds.

His cheeks are burning as he continues to devour your lips, his heart beating against his ribcage. Your trembling fingers tangle into his hair, pushing him impossibly closer to you. He feels the wet patch from your panties on your thighs, making him groan against your mouth, lapping up the mixed spit.

His hands roam across your chest, cupping your breasts over your shirt. Sighs and moans passed between your meeting lips, fingernails digging into the skin of his nape. With a gentle squeeze, he moves forward between your legs, making you lean back into the headboard. He massages your boobs, thumbs grazing over your perky nipples underneath the thin fabric of your shirt. “Oh baby they’re stiff,” he murmurs against your mouth. Caleb reaches from underneath, his hot fingertips trailing your skin until he finds your nipples. He pinches the buds, making you yelp in surprise. He grins, luring your tongue into his mouth and quickly clamping his lips around it, sucking on it.

You can feel yourself getting warmer and weaker by the second, your grip loosening and slacking onto your sides as Caleb continues to guzzle your saliva down his throat. With feeble hands, you push away your roommate from completely swallowing you.

“Oh– ugh, enough, please,” you groan, tilting your head back as you shakily prop yourself up. Caleb merely smirks at your request, hands gripping into your hips, “Enough?” He mocks, “We just started.”

You look up at him with a frail scowl and he snickers, pulling away. “Don’t look at me like that, I’ll fulfill my promise, I swear,” he says, tugging his shirt and sweatpants off.

It takes everything in your system to not blatantly ogle at the shadows of his muscles–and you still fail. Admiring every dip and curve of his body, you bite the inside of your cheek, noticing the dog tag around his neck settling just above his massive pecs. He chuckles at your insistent gawking, “Come on, your turn.”

You couldn’t even process what he just said, too caught up in drooling over his body that was carved by the gods that you didn’t even notice that he stripped you down bare. Your clothes are strewn across the room but you didn’t care, not when Caleb smashes his mouth against yours again.

“Fuck I can’t look at you,” he murmurs and you feel your heart sink to your stomach.

What does he mean by that? Did he find you horrifying to look at? What he said was true though, after taking off every fabric from your skin, he went ahead and kissed you again without sparing you a glance.

“I might just fucking cum alone from seeing your body.”

Oh.

“You stupid loser,” you grumble, biting his bottom lip. “What did I do?” Caleb suddenly asks, scrambling away to look at you with those large doe eyes that you hate (because you fall for it everytime).

“I thought you fucking hated me for a second back there,” you huff, gaze trailing down to the large tent in his boxers, “Telling me how you can’t look at me.”

Caleb shoots you an apologetic grin, his clammy hands reaching for your thighs and rubbing the skin up and down. “Silly girl,” he mumbles, hovering his lips against yours again, “I can’t look at you because you’ll see how pathetic I am when I cum in my fucking pants.”

You giggle and a sigh escapes your lips when Caleb’s meets yours again, feeling his smile with every glide of his tongue. Caleb never knew kissing you would feel this good, and he swears he can get off from just doing this alone with you for the entire night. But he has a mission to fulfill and he refuses to leave you hanging.

With profound determination, he palms your crotch gently, collecting the wetness in his hand. “Oh I just know you’ll feel good. My god,” he says.

“We’re not even halfway through this and you’re already clicking your heels together in excitement,” you joke and his chest bubbles up in laughter.

“Can you blame me, baby? I’ve dreamt of this moment since forever,” he replies, inserting his tongue back into your mouth again. His index finger gently caresses over your slit, making you catch your breathing in your throat. You can only concentrate on one thing, and with so much going on–his finger slowly rubbing over your entrance, his tongue dancing with yours, and his other hand reaching over and massaging your breasts, you were far too gone. To the point where you actively have to think about breathing before your lungs could collapse.

All your efforts to will yourself to suspire was thrown out the window when Caleb’s middle finger grazed over your clit. You choke into his mouth, pulling away from him.

“She’s sensitive, isn’t she?” Caleb coos as you throw your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his musky perfume. He rubs the nub with his fingertips in circular motions, making your legs tremble heavily. Caleb plants open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, tongue slowly gliding the curvature of your skin. His lips latch onto every inch of your skin, noticing the way your breathing hitches with every suck on your body.

And down, down, down, he effortlessly runs his tongue on every crevice of your figure until he comes face-to-face with your boobs. He could cry at the sight alone.

“Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable,” he mumbles, staring at the mounds in your chest, fingers still rubbing your clit in circular motion like it’s his second nature. “You are unbelievably beautiful,” he grits, burying his face right between your breasts. You gasp, feeling him slowly lick long stripes between your nipples like he’s carving a path to them.

As soon as his lips catch your left nipple, he groans and you choke a breath.

“Hah– Caleb–”

“Hmm? You like it?” He mumbles in between your breasts.

You can’t even reply even if you wanted to, your hand flying to his neck and gripping onto it like your life depended on him. He continues to abuse your swollen clit, collecting your wetness from your entrance. “You’re shaking so much. That’s what you get for using a toy instead of calling for me,” he reprimands.

“Don’t scold me now, Caleb–ah!”

He pinches your nub and bites your nipple gently, earning a yelp from you and nails dig into his skin harder. “‘M sorry, baby. I just wanted to remind you, ‘s all,” he mumbles, focusing on your labored breaths. He spits out the swollen nipple, a trail of his saliva connecting to his chin as he leans forward to your other breast.

“Won’t scold you anymore, promise,” he continues, pressing your clit with the pad of his thumb and sucking on your right boob.

“O-oh shit! You– I can’t–!” You press your legs together, only for Caleb to pull it apart effortlessly with his one hand, pinning your left leg to the mattress. “I know baby, I know,” he coos, almost whining as he forces himself to remove his mouth from your addictive breasts, propping himself up. You fall your hands to your sides in naught. “It feels too good, right? Right?” He breathed lightly, eyes trailing down your body. He stares at your boobs, jiggling to the way you writhe under his touch, and the mixture of sweat and his saliva trickling down between the valley. He could feel his dick harden at the sight alone, urging him to swallow thickly and turn to your face instead.

Which was a mistake.

The moment he does, he is met with your gaping, trembling lips with drool slipping out on the side and half-lidded eyes staring up at him. You catch him peering at you and mindlessly, you outstretch your arms to him, making grabby hands.

“Oh how can I deny you? My sweet sweet baby,” he babbles, removing his hand from your thigh and interlocking his fingers with yours. Without warning, he inserts his ring finger to your entrance with his thumb still hovering over your clit, drawing a choked breath from you.

“Baby you’re so warm, I can feel you so much,” he muses, “It makes me feel… things.”

You furrow your brows at him but before you can ask him, what the hell is he talking about, he yanks his finger out of you and settles it onto your hip, the other one still laced around yours, and lays on his stomach–face to face with your crotch. He watches your slick run down your folds albeit hypnotized.

Glossy and looks inviting, it’s like it was his first time seeing pussy. But it’s yours. That changes everything, because he doesn’t count all the other ones he had before you. Simply ‘cause it’s not yours. Caleb sticks his tongue out and exhales heavily, feeling all the lust clouding his mind.

“I’m going to fuck my tongue into you,” Caleb declares casually.

“Huh? Wha–!”

You couldn’t even cry out if you wanted to, not when he rams his tongue into your entrance without any other explanation. He whimpers, dazed and watery eyes flickering up at yours, gripping onto your hips like his lifeline. Caleb drags himself into the cold mattress, desperate for any relief in his boxers as he wraps his lips around your cunt, tongue flicking up to your clit. Your fingers grab a fistful of his hair, unknowingly planting him further into your pussy.

“F-fuck,” you whine, throwing your head back, feeling him lay his tongue flat against your slit, slurping up all your sweet sweet juices.

“I love how you taste, so so fuckin’ delicious,” he yaps, feeling the vibrations of his words in your vagina. Caleb buries tongue further into you, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit, “I could stay here forever, you’d let me do that right?” He asks, licking a long sloppy stripe into your entrance. You gnaw your bottom lip, wheezing from the way he was eating you out like you were his last meal. “Right? Right?” He huffs, swallowing and slurping at the same time like he was crazed.

You open your mouth to answer but he wouldn’t even let you do that as he kitten licks and sucks your clit rhythmically. “Caleb, wait!” You choke, pulling his hair harder.

“Baby, you’d let me eat you all night, right?” He repeats, looking up at you with fawn written in his features. You blink at him, huffing and puffing, “I-I can’t–”

“Wrong answer baby,” he grunts before diving back into you, cramming his wet muscle into you again. “Y-you didn’t even let me fuckin– hah! Finish my goddamn– hng sentence!” You exclaim, thrashing your hips into his greedy mouth, feeling the tip of his nose rub against your swollen nub again. Your legs shake profusely beside him, growing weaker with each second that Caleb fucks his tongue into you.

“Don’t– mwa!-- need– mwa!-- to!” He replies in between messy kisses, exploring your cunt feverishly.

“Oh f-fuuuck, feels good. Sho sho good,” you whine, pressing your head into the pillow in embarrassment. Caleb continues to eat you out like all his love for you could only be translated into your pussy, smearing his freckled face with all your juices while lapping every single liquid that you excrete. “I know baby, I know,” he mumbles and he feels your cunt sporadically twitch in his mouth.

“Baby I think she’s close. Are you close, baby?” He heaved and you could only shake your head, “I-I dun’ know!”

He chuckles against your clit and that does it.

You’re spasming, gush of liquid rippling out of your pussy and straight into Caleb’s throat, guzzling them down like they’re sacred and all so holy. Your legs shake intensely from the onslaught of his tongue, seeing the kaleidoscopic colors and light behind your eyes as you muffle your screams into the cushion while you dig your nails into his scalp and knuckles.

“F-fuh–! Caleb! E-enough!” You plead, jaw widely ajar as Caleb laps up your slobbering mess of a cunt. “Mmh, not yet. Please,” he begs back, rubbing circles in your hips. With a choked breath and all the remaining strength in your body, you pull his head away from your sensitive pussy.

You exhale in short breaths as you memorize the sight from across you–your childhood friend kneeling between your legs with the dim light kissing his flushed skin. A slippery trail of your arousal drips down his chin, glistening under the moonlight. You mindlessly follow the movement of his chest, admiring his muscles and down to his crotch, noticing the wet patch on his boxers.

“I love how you taste,” Caleb declares in between pants, tongue licking a stripe on his lips. He seems spellbound, fixated on your half-lidded eyes and hair sprawled across the pillows. His heartbeat thumps wildly against his chest, wanting to pinch himself to realize that all of this is real. That he just ate you out ferociously, the same way he dreams about it every single night.

“I love you.”

“Huh?”

You slip your fingers away from his grasp and detach his grip from your hip. He frowns at your actions, “I said I love you,” he declares. You ignore his words and the heavy scowl he’s sending in your direction, noticing the water forming in his eyes. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to crush you with his weight, his heavy bulge protruding against your stomach.

You burrow your nose into his scalp, fingers threading through his hair, “You sure about that? Or are you just saying that to have sex with me?” You mumble.

You can feel the glare Caleb is forming against your skin but you refuse to let him prop himself up.

“What do you mean? I don’t care if I don’t fuck you, I’m in love with you,” he grumbles, resisting the urge to bite the curve of your neck in annoyance. You hum in response, massaging your fingertips into his scalp, having him slowly melt into your touch. He was glad you were caressing him in all the right places, feeling all his irritation slip away momentarily.

“Well you’re in luck,” you murmur. He furrows his brows and you let him pull himself up, the palm of his hand beside you.

“What?” He asks questioningly, his dogtag dangling close to your breasts. You send him a soft smile, “I feel the same way, perchance.”

Caleb stares at you incredulously, “Perchance?”

You giggle, “I… I love you too, Caleb.”

Blink.

Once.

Twice.

Tears form in his eyes.

“What…?” He gags.

“You don’t like it?” You raise a brow at him, biting the inside of your cheek. Before you can even register the salty liquid rolling down his face, he mangles himself into your limbs, burying into your skin.

“C-Caleb?”

You were replied with muted sniffles and pecks of kisses in your neck.

“Are you okay?” You ask again. He nods, wrapping his biceps around your shoulders and gripping you tight. “I-I just don’t think this will happen,” he admits.

“Why not?” You trace your name into his back followed by small hearts and his name. He just shrugs in response and you feel your collarbones turning damp because of his tears. You lowly chuckle, fingertips creeping up to his nape.

“Hmm.. So does that mean we won’t fuck anymore?” You ask, lips curving up in an amused smile.

Caleb’s ears perk up, propping himself up with his elbow, “You’d let me do that?”

It was your turn to shrug, “That’s why you were here in the first place right?”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He pulls himself up between snivels and peels his boxers away. And the sight alone can bring you to your knees.

“Oh.” You inhale shakily, “You’re big.”

Caleb glances down to the direction of your eyes, “I guess it’s above average,” he says as-a-matter-of-factly. And you hate him for it. Because what does he mean that after all this time, after all the years of being roommates with him, this is what he’s hiding from you?!

Your train of thought gets cut off as he strokes your cheek with the palm of his hand, hovering above you carefully. “Just so you know, I do this out of love for you,” he mentions, staring into your blown out pupils.

“I know, I do too,” you reply, bringing a hand to his jaw. You steal a glimpse of his lips and he smiled, “Guess we’re even.”

Before you can even ask what he means, Caleb leans into you, locking his mouth against yours. Caleb feels like he could kiss you for eternity and still be insatiable, especially when he finally had a taste of you–hearing your soft whimpers and your attempts to muffle your sounds by swallowing them all as his tongue glides over your soft lips. Caleb sighs contentedly between your locked mouths, sucking on your bottom lip. You whine helplessly, slightly fluttering your eyelids only to be met with his pupils, staring right back at you while you kiss each other delicately. He slowly pulls away, breathlessly peering into your features–memorizing each mole, freckle, and scar.

You hated having him not in your mouth, however. So you close the distance between you two, tangling your legs around his hips and feeling his impossibly hard bulge into your stomach, meeting Caleb’s lips once more.

Caleb pushes his thumb against your chin, shoving his tongue down your throat.

“Hah… Ca… Caleb,” you whine, cupping both his cheeks with the palms of your hand. He hums mindlessly, too engrossed with the way you taste.

“I think we should fuck.”

The gears in Caleb’s brain begin to churn. His eyes fly wide open, meeting your squinted gaze and grin.

“Y-You think?” He mutters.

You nod.

He glances down and nods the same, gulping. Caleb takes his leaking tip, aligning himself against your slobbering entrance before huffing.

“Is this your first time?” You ask curiously and he shakes his head with shame written all over his features, “Unfortunately not.”

“Then it’s okay, it’s not my first time either.”

He whips his head to your direction faster than the speed of light. Caleb gazes down at you with his purple puppy dog eyes and lips jutting out in dejection. “What do you mean it’s not your first time? You’ve had other people before me?” He seethes, jealousy bubbling up his chest and red eyes welling up, urging you to roll your eyes playfully, “I’m not your first time either, baby. We’re even.”

He didn’t even hear what you said. His clouded brain could only register the pet name you just called him and it bogged him how you could be oh so perfect.

“Okay,” he says casually, forgetting what the conversation was about.

Caleb returns to his mission, dragging the head of his cock to your entrance. You gulp, steadying your breathing as you feel him slowly collecting your liquid between your legs. And the second that his tip sinks into your cunt, he shivers. He could feel the tears forming back in his eyes again. He focuses on your crotch, drooling at the glistening and dripping cunt, With a shaky breath, “I-I’ll push myself in.”

Fat tears roll down Caleb’s cheeks as he eases his impossibly hard cock into your warm cunt.

“O-oh, fuck,” he whines, creases forming between his eyebrows. He can’t even look at you and he’s glad that you’re suppressing all sounds from your throat. Because he’s sure the moment you let out the slightest moan, he’d cum without even burying himself halfway yet.

“Baby, you’re so warm inside,” he cries, choking back a groan. His eyes find the ceiling, praying to all the gods above of a miracle of letting him last for more than a minute inside you. “Caleb, baby, please push yourself in,” you beg.

And that’s all it took to thrust himself to the hilt.

“S-shit! Caleb!”

“God. F-fuck,” he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His grip on your hips tightens as the salty liquid runs down his cheeks, breathing unstable, and focused on your warm and snug cunt. He darts his gaze to the inky sky behind the sheer curtains in your room, silently praying to the gods to let him last at least a minute.

Unfortunately, fate doesn’t seem to be on his side tonight. Because the moment he ends his prayer, he decides to gawk at you beneath him. Which ends up being his second mistake for the night. Your tear-glazed eyes bore into his with that half-lidded look that feels like he’s magnetized to you all over again, your swollen lips quivering at the biiig stretch he has in your tight and slick pussy.

Heat rushes to his cheeks and words coiled at his throat, “D-Don’t look at me like that,” he pleads, hips frozen in place.

You pout, “Look like what?” You whisper, tears welling up in your eyes, light touches traveling down his back, turning to lightning shivers in his body.

He shudders, screwing his eyes shut.

“Caleb,” you call out, right hand reaching to his jaw. “Move. Please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Caleb removes his hands from your hips and instead presses firmly onto your thighs, pushing it open.

“Open up for me more, baby. Come on,” he encourages, sprawling your legs out in a wide v shape. With his hands migrating to your ankles, he’s gawking straight between your legs.

“Caleb–fuuck– You’re so slow–!” Caleb cuts you off with a harsh thrust, making your body jolt against the mattress, “I-I’m sorry but you gotta-hck! Understand how your pussy feels too good for me!” He retorts, bucking sloppily into you. You choke on your saliva as his sharp hips pivot, his cock burying deeper into your gummy walls, jerking into you back and forth like he’s lost all control.

“Caleeeb, fuck right– ah!” You bite down your lip, his dick vigorously pummelling in and out of you, grip tightening around your ankles. “Ngh, babyyy,” you whimper, gasping at the immense pace he’s starting, fucking you mercilessly with eyes rolled to the back of his head. He presses his hands into the back of your thighs, pushing you forward in the meanest mating press, your legs hanging in the air above his shoulders.

“Oh shit Caleb! You’re shoo deep,” you moan, salty liquid finally running down your cheeks. Caleb notices, tilting his head forward and licks the tears away as if he wasn’t sobbing in pleasure himself.

“Atta girl, atta girl,” he cries, pistoning into you deeper until you were certain your bodies would be carved into the mattress. “Feels good? This feels good, baby?” He asks, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You couldn’t even give him an answer even if you wanted to. He pulls himself out and shoves all of his dick into you, your cunt continuing to clamp around him like he deserves to stay there forever.

“There you go,” he babbles, ramming into you as he nibbles into your skin, “There you go baby. Keep taking it like a good girl.” His praises send shivers down your spine, heat enveloping your bodies. Caleb chokes, plunging into you one last time before burying himself into you carefully. “I’m so proud of you,” he mumbles, grinding his hips against yours. “You make me so so proud.”

“Ngh Caleb, why’d you stop?” You mewl, tangling your fingers into his hair, pulling him up to meet his eyes. You were met with your roommate sniveling and in his most pathetic state–all because of your pussy. “I never felt this way,” he blubbers.

“Me too, honey,” you admit, scratching his scalp lightly. “Feels too good baby,” he whines, rutting into you like an animal in heat. Before you can even reply to his yammering, he leans forward, capturing your lips.

His tongue tangles against yours, moaning and writhing into your touch. With a guzzle of your saliva down his throat, he pulls away. You gaze into his blown out irises, electricity jolting between the distance. With a heavy exhale, Caleb slowly pulls out of your cunt, never breaking eye contact and drives into you.

“Hngh! Hah– Caleb!”

“Oh baby, there we go. You like that?” He groans, pummelling into you unhurriedly, your melodic moans echoing in the steamy air.

“You like that?” plap! “I know you like that, baby.” plap! “Right? Just–!” plap! “Nice and gentle and slow,” He continues to plunge into you forward with shallow and slow thrusts.

“Just take it like a good girl baby, you’re doin’ such a good job for me. There we go, there we go,” he continues as you only gaze up at him with fat tears both rolling down your cheeks, a soft smile grazing your features as his dick hits your sweet spot. “Let me pick up the pace okay? I’ll pick up the pace now,” he blabbers.

Your pussy clamps down on his dick greedily, sucking him impossibly deeper as his words turn into a string of cries and whimpers. “I know baby, I know. It’s okay,” he yaps, continuing to smother you with his kisses and propelling you forward into the mattress with his thrusts.

You don’t even understand half of what he’s saying, too absorbed with the feeling of his cock satisfying you more than any vibrator you own. Everything was just perfect–from his bruising touch, his whines above you, his tears dripping into your cheeks, mixing with yours. You wrap your arms around his tensed shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Your feverish strokes catches him off guard, eliciting a choked whimper from him, “Oh baby, I’m so fucking dizzy. I think my brain’s fucking empty.”

If you think you were going insane, Caleb feels like he’s about to die and explode with the way he pounds into you, exerting more strength into fucking you than he’s ever before. He’s delightfully delirious, crying and out of his mind, still unsure if this was real. He can feel the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix, short pants of “Ah! Ah!” escaping your lips whenever he does.

“Baby, baby,” he calls out, eyes wide open and scrambling to look into yours, “I–fuck– n-not gonna last. Need y-you to–hah– cum,” he manages to say in between pants. You nod profusely, embracing him closer until the tip of his nose grazes against yours.

Caleb removes one iron grip from your thighs, his hands snaking between your bodies. He flicks his finger between your folds, exploring your swollen clit, making you arch your back in pleasure with a scream. His pace is frantic now, his mouth agape with drool and tears trickling down your skin. He was not kidding when he said he’s going braindead. Your limbs are going limp under his weight, rocking your hips forward to bring yourself the one thing that you crave for the whole evening.

“Caleb, m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum!” You exclaim, lashes fluttering as you stare up at him with salty tears continuously dribbling down your face. He gulps, “Come on, cum for me. Cum for me,” he hums, fingers rubbing in circular motion against your nub.

You swear you could get lost in the cosmos of his eyes, drawing pure passion in his irises. And before you could notice the way his gaze softens, his thumb presses harder into your sensitive clit, urging you to gush out a week’s worth of pent-up frustration. You’re shivering in his embrace, wailing his name and thrashing as your climax rushes into you, pussy squelching and clenching around him.

“Oh fuck baby don’t squeeze, don’t squeeze!” He retreats his hand from your clit to your jaw, cradling it softly in contrast to his harsh thrusts.

How can you control your firm grip around him when he wouldn’t even let up with his unforgiving pace?

“Shit! Baby I won’t be able to pull out, I-I’m sorry–! I–hck!”

Your hardened nipples brush against Caleb’s pecs as you squirm underneath him, vision blurring with tears and ecstasy as you cup his face with your hands, fondling his damp cheeks. He purses his lips, nuzzling into your touch, mouth parted as low moans and groans fall from his lips.

“Caleb,” you call out, ignoring the slow burn in your crotch from the overstimulation. He looks straight into you, fingers trembling against you, “I love you.”

His cock twitches at your words.

“I-I’m sorry!” He exclaims, while mercilessly pinning you in the mating press.

Caleb pumps you full of his dick with his eyes boring into you and within a second, he climaxes, hard. Stripes of his cum shooting up your womb, his body growing limp as you feel the ribbons of hot release that splatters deep into your cunt.

You were sure he wasn’t sorry at all.

Caleb sucks through his teeth sharply, gyrating into you one last time before forcing himself to slide out of you. He notices the slobbering mess of his cum spilling out of your pussy mixed with your wetness in between you, eliciting a snarky smirk in his face.

“Stop fuckin’ staring you perv,” you huff, making him turn to you. He gives you a dopey smile and kisses your tear-stained cheeks. One kiss turns into two, then into four, then it turns into him full on smothering you with sloppy open mouthed kisses all over your face.

“Caleb! Stop!” You exclaim between giggles, feeling his shit-eating grin across your skin. “How can you still have the energy for this?!” You demand, flailing underneath him which deemed futile.

“Well– mwa! I just had– mwa! The most mindblowing– mwa! Toe-curling– mwa! Sex I’ve ever had– mwa! With– mwa! The girl I love– mwa! Because she left her airpod on the kitchen counter.”

“Hey! You were the one who barged in here and pulled my sheets away like a fucking maniac! If it were any other person I would’ve called the cops,” you grumble, flicking his nose exasperatingly. He plops down into you in response, crushing you with his weight and knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Well–heh… I got curious to what you were listenin’... Sorry,” he replied without any remorse. You audibly gasp, smacking his back, “So that’s why my video gets paused every damn second!”

He only chuckles in response as you hurl your palms into his back in embarrassment, “What! Can you blame me for being curious? At least we got around to what we wanted anyway,” he argued, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You groan and roll your eyes at his words, featherlight touches reaching into his sweaty back. And with a soft exhale between your tangled limbs, you murmur into his ear, “You’re right. Thank you, my sweet boy.”

Let’s just say sparks of electricity shoot up his system again.

a/n: first time writing smut and i'm SPENT i fought for my life writing for this thing! didn't expect this to reach almost 8k words lmao. anywayz, likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated! <3

🏷 : @browneyedgirl22 @mcdepressed290

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missdynamighttt · 3 months ago

Note

feining for frat boy katsuki…

it was hot. loud. half the girls were already screaming over shirtless frat boys grinding against windshields. your friend dragged you out with a “come on, it’s for charity!” and now you’re standing in the corner with a lukewarm lemonade and zero expectations.

you didn’t even want to come to this stupid fraternity fundraiser.

your roommate dragged you out with the promise of half-naked frat boys, but all you’ve seen so far are drenched freshmen trying to flex their way into a hernia.

but then you see him.

he’s got his back turned at first—lean muscle, golden skin, red swim trunks slung way too low on his hips. sunlight catches the water dripping down his back like it’s staged. and when he turns around?

game over. he’s gorgeous.

sharp jaw, wild blonde hair flattened from water, a cocky little smirk on his face as he wrings a sponge out over his head, totally aware of the stares.

and he sees you. right away. ruby eyes locked with yours and gives the most arrogant little up-nod like, yeah. you’re next.

you try to act unaffected. fail immediately.

he saunters over, sudsy bucket in one hand, water dripping down his abs like it’s a fucking calvin klein ad. stops right in front of you, eyeing your car, then you, then your car again. “you the one drivin’ this piece of shit?”

you blink. “excuse me?!”

he shrugs but you can see a little grin tugging on the corner of his mouth, smug and unbothered. “relax. i’ll make it look brand new.”

he puts the bucket down, saunters over, and damn—he’s even hotter up close. tall. muscles for days. and that little scar on his cheek? unfair.

then, leaning closer, voice low: “the name's katsuki bakugo. what’s yours, sweet girl?”

you tell him. maybe a little breathless.

he repeats it once—slow, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “hm. yeah. i like that.”

and then he goes to work. but not just on the car.

katsuki bakugo washes that car like he’s auditioning for the dirtiest boy band you’ve ever seen. dropping the sponge just to bend over in front of you, ass on full display. making eye contact when he slides his hand over the hood like he’s caressing it. watering himself down with a hose and shaking his hair out like he’s in a shampoo commercial from hell.

by the time he’s done, your car is sparkling. and so are you—flushed, flustered.

he tosses the sponge into the bucket, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks. “lemme know if you need a private wash sometime.”

and then he walks away, with you watching the water dripping down the curve of his spine, no better than a teenage boy ogling the back of a girl's bikini. you swear you black out for a second too.

it’s only a few hours after the car wash before he slides in your dms, smooth but dirty. you’re in your room, still reeling from whatever the hell that was, when your phone buzzes.

king.explosionmurder has sent you a message.

(yeah. that’s his actual handle. because of course it is.) then, you open it.

king.explosionmurder:

can't stop thinking about the girl with the shittiest car and the cutest fuckin’ face.

you stare. then another message pops up.

king.explosionmurder:

u free tonight?

or maybe you're too busy being adorable somewhere else?

your heart does a thing. you type out a reply—something just barely cocky enough to match him:

you:

depends

you always this forward?

king.explosionmurder:

only for girls with shitty taste in cars

so, only you

let me buy you a drink, sweet girl?

you:

fine

you can buy me a drink, frat boy

but for the record?

my taste in cars is not that shitty

king.explosionmurder:

whatever you say beautiful

8 pm, sunset bar down 5th ave

don't be late

katsuki shows up five minutes early, in a black tee that clings to his chest and jeans that should be illegal. hair still messy from his post-car-wash shower. when you walk in, his eyes track you like you’re the only person in the room.

“tch. thought you were gonna flake.”

you roll your eyes. “you’d cry if i did.”

his mouth twitches. “like a damn baby.”

then the date just... hits different. it wasn't what you expected. sure, it’s packed with college students and frat bros, but in the back corner booth? with him?

it’s quiet. comfortable. almost… intimate.

he’s not much of a talker, but with you? he tries. you ask about his major—he’s an aspiring pro-hero, of course—and he asks about yours, grumbling when you light up talking about it, because “fuck, that smile’s gonna kill me.”

and even though he’d die before saying it out loud, the minute you take a sip of your drink and laugh at something dumb he says? he’s gone. head over heels.

he walks you back to your dorm with his hand on the small of your back, even though it’s barely a ten-minute walk. says “text me when you’re in” even though he literally watched you unlock your door. stands there, gruff and gorgeous, waiting.

“gonna invite me?” he asks, tone teasing.

you shake your head, grinning. “not on the first date, i'm not.”

he groans dramatically. “damn. fuckin’ killin’ me here.”

you grin. “goodnight, frat boy.”

but he doesn’t move right away.

just stands there under the warm porch light, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work off the ache of not touching you again. his shirt clings to him in the summer heat, his jaw sharp in the glow, but it’s his eyes that freeze you in place.

not hard. not sharp. not the glare he usually levels at the world.

but soft. heavy. like you’ve stolen the breath from his lungs and he doesn’t even want it back.

he looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

he takes one small step closer, close enough that you can feel the heat coming off his chest, close enough that if either of you moved just an inch, you’d be kissing.

“goodnight, sweet girl,” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel laced with honey.

it hits you somewhere deep. like he’s branding the words into you.

and then—he actually smiles. a real one. lopsided, shy, the kind of smile you’d never expect from someone who threatens to body slam people over couch cushions.

then he turns and walks away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down, like if he looks back even once, he’ll do something stupid like run back and kiss you senseless.

you close the door behind you, heart thudding so hard you swear your roommate can hear it.

you’re screwed. so screwed.

because things after that? they move fast.

to everyone else, he was the guy who'd scream if you left dishes in the sink, throw a beer can at you if you sat on his side of the couch, and threaten to body slam you if you so much as breathe near him.

but the entire frat house knew that their loud, grumpy, terrifyingly efficient frat dad—had a soft spot the size of a planet. and that soft spot? was for you.

you’re the only person allowed in his room during his grumpy post-practice naps. the only one who can touch his hair without him flinching. he’d grumble when you flick his forehead when he was being dramatic but he'd let you.

he might curse under his breath, but when you’d slide onto his lap during movie night, he'd wrap an arm around you like it was instinct. like protecting you came as naturally as breathing.

he had snacks stocked in the mini fridge (not for him, you liked them). he hands you your favorite snack and grumbles, “was on sale. don’t get used to it,” even though it’s never on sale but he bought six of them anyway.

and when finals week hits? he’s a damn soldier for you.

caffeine runs. your favorite takeout. quiet growls at anyone who tries to talk to you in the library. he reads your flashcards like they’re enemy coordinates and quizzing you becomes his personal mission.

but the best part? the tiny, quiet moments in between.

like when he’s losing at mario kart and you’d sit in his lap while he played, steal his fries, kiss his cheek mid-rant just to shut him up.

or when you were too tired to walk back to your place, you just curl up in his bed. not only does he let you, he tucks the blanket around you and kisses your forehead so soft it makes your chest ache.

and somehow, all of that was like magic.

sure, he might’ve acted like the world’s most chaotic, aggressive frat president, but when it came to you? he was all bark, all bite… and all heart.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

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fushitoru · 7 months ago

Text

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! a gojo satoru fic/drabble

cw: gojo x reader, established relationship, fluff LOLLL, gojo being a pathetic loser for his gf, use of baby, babe, reader referred to as gf and wears makeup, gojo being jealous, crack, based off this (instagram link)

"Ranking types of hugs I'd be comfortable with another guy giving my girlfriend." Satoru squints at the scene, reading out the caption on the TikTok as he watches the guy on the screen, long ass spider legs laid out on the couch while waiting for you to get ready. Curiously, he clicks on the filter without fully watching the video and starts filming to generate the different types of hugs.

"A back hug." The curious smile on his face slowly fades away as a grimace takes place as he gains the thousand yard stare. "Nine. Okay, not at a good start so far—"

He groans, face scrunching in pain as he exhales out at what he sees on the screen: slow dance hug. Then, he imagines you, a man's hand on your waist and you smiling just like those stupid fucking drawings at someone who's not him—"Ten. Oh my fucking god."

Clutching the lower half of his face, he looks concentrated as he waits for the shuffler to give him some less painful option, groaning in pain once again, looking back at the scene, and then groaning again. "One armed hug," he strains out, blindly reaching for the lowest number he could rank it as.

The filter shuffles yet again, and he's almost in tears, groaning immediately on instinct but then doubling back at his screen. "Polite hug." He contemplates it. "Okay, a two, not so bad, not so—"

A pause. "A classic hug." He stares at the screen like it just betrayed him, until he decides it's not so bad. Reluctantly, he ranks it at three.

Then, he waits for the filter to give him another painful vision, and it delivers. "A slow catcher hug—oh my godddd." Satoru is shaking his head, eyes teary as he groans loudly at the though of you jumping up to another man, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in for a hug. If someone was listening to him, it would seem like he was dying with the way he was covering his mouth, shaking his head, and exclaiming "what the fuck"'s as he stared at his phone screen in sheer shock.

Unfortunately for you, you were within earshot, blending in your blush and doing finishing touches as you heard Satoru's shrieks coming in from the living room. He seemed to be on the edge of tears, and worriedly, you set down your brush and rushed to where his sobs were coming from.

And there he was: in fetal position, phone on the floor as he shook his head as if in shock. "Baby," you hurried to him, grabbing his face so you could figure out what was making him so distressed.

He didn't seem to be injured as he meets your eyes, upset. "I can't do this bruh," he laments while turning to be on his back and rubbing his eyes. You just look at him confused.

"Do what?"

He turns, and pauses. Scans you in your champagne dress for the fancy place he was taking you and the way you did your makeup so sultry. It's just for him, but after the events of that Tiktok—that's now stopped filming—all he feels is petty jealousy because other guys can see you like this.

Out of nowhere, he declares, "I can fight."

You blink. "What?"

"I can fight," he repeats, nodding emphatically as if trying to convince himself. Then, after a beat: "Why do I have such a pretty girlfriend?" He groans again, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Baby, why do you look so good right now?"

While he does this, you inspect him for any signs of injuries or things that could've caused him this much distress. Finding none and used to his theatrics, you sigh and pat his cheek. "I’m going to finish getting ready," you say, deciding he’s not in mortal peril after all.

As you return to your vanity, Satoru calls after you, still sulking. "Just so you know, I ranked the polite hug at two. Because I love you. And I can fight."

"Good to know, Satoru."

a/n lowk spiderman!gojo coded. i love writing fluff i would lowk want to write this for nanami i feel like he would slowly grow more and more jealous LMAOAO

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nochepsicodelica · 2 months ago

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"Gentle," you murmur, lips curled softly in amusement as you watch Toji plant kisses all over your bare thighs. "Geeentle," you repeat, when he starts inching closer to the inner part of your thigh. Then you see it, the hyper focus he holds on the plush area of your legs. You watch as he prepares to strike, his mouth widening while he starts leaning in closer.

"Gentle, gentle, gentle-- Wait, Toji-!" You blurt, needlessly, since he didn't make any attempt to slow down once he set his plan in motion. Your laughter interrupts the stillness of the once calm room, while Toji is just there with his teeth, harshly, sunken into your thigh. It's warm, it's wet, but most of all, it stings.

After relaxing his jaw, his grip on your delicate skin loosens, and he pulls away, before taking his sweet time to admire his newly created masterpiece. He rubs the temporary impression he left on you, eliciting an expected but still mildly unpleasant soreness with every press and drag of his fingertips.

"That was a good one, huh?" Toji murmurs, a smug grin on his face as he leans in to leave a much gentler brush of his lips on the "affected" area.

You scoff and roll your eyes, but agree nonetheless. He doesn't need to know that, though. "Pshhh, it was alright. I'm not missing a chunk out of my leg or anything, so..."

"Mm..." he hums, like he got your message loud and clear. "Let me try that again, then."

"Wait, no, please! No! Oh god, please, no! Please don't," you cry out, like you're auditioning for the most dramatic TV series. He laughs at the way your legs shuffle before he can get another good bite on you.

"I didn't even do anything and you're already crying," he says, unfazed but stilled entertained, as usual. He's used to your dramatics, by now.

"Ahh! That's what you say to me every night."

"Damn right," he says, proudly, in agreement, reciprocating your menacing grin. "You're chicken, baby," he fires, dropping the grin almost instantly.

"You're chicken, baby," you sling back, turning his insult on him.

"If you let me get another bite in, I'll take it back," he says, bringing your legs back to where they rested before, carefully, so that you don't pull away again.

"But, but, but-"

"But, but, buuuuuut," he mocks, sounding like a mosquito and snickering when you deadpan.

"You're not funny," you say, your voice icy. It's hard to stay serious in the moment, considering how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Look at you. You wanna laugh. Aaaand your lips are twitching. They're starting to curl."

"Stop narrating my movements, damn it," you chide, giving into the laugh he witnessed slowly unfolding.

Chomp.

Your laughter doubles down, and you swear you feel the breaths coming from his own chuckle on your skin.

"Oww," you wail, pushing at his head to try and shake him off, but he's like a dog with an object it refuses to let go of. "Toji, i'm gonna scream in three... two..."

He loosens his hold on your skin, pulling away completely to avoid setting off the siren that is you, his very lovely lady.

"Don't," he strictly instructs.

"Hm, maybe I should do it, anyway. I'm in so much pain."

"Is that a threat, baby?" Toji asks, scarred side of his lips curling. He watches you shrug in response, followed by a sassy tilt of your head, as if to say, 'what are you gonna do about it?'

"Be good."

"Be nice," you retort.

You both just stare at each other for a couple seconds, eyes never separating from each other. It's a brief moment between lovers who enjoy these little showdowns and how they almost always immediately come to an end when both of you inevitably crack.

Starting with you...

Your lips being tightly pressed together does nothing to suppress the loud snicker that cuts through the silence you both created. Toji follows almost instantly, unable to hold back his own entertained grin as he leans down to leave gentle, soothing kisses on the new impression he made on your thigh.

"You're nutso," you say, nothing but love in your tone, as you delicately run your fingers through his hair.

"You love it," he responds, caressing your thighs in his warm hands as he continues to soothe your tender skin with his lips.

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batsandbirdbrains · 15 days ago

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Okay but I love the thought of Dick being the only Wayne kid that was never actually adopted. He was only ever a ward. As soon as he turned 18, Bruce technically had no further responsibility for him.

And perhaps that has always sort of fucked with Dick’s head. He always feels lesser than compared to the rest of his siblings. Half the time, he questions if he can even actually call them his siblings.

He and Bruce fought so much when he was a teenager, and Bruce never formally adopted him, and Dick had been living exclusively at Titans Tower for over a year by the time his 18th birthday rolled around, and the rest of the Fab Five may have had to make sure at least one of them was with him at all times for a few days around his birthday because he was so upset, because he was officially no longer Bruce’s problem, because Bruce didn’t even text him a happy birthday message, because he was mourning the loss of a second family and he had no idea what to do.

He and Bruce have since made up, and they’re on much better terms now, but the fact of the matter is that Dick is still technically not a Wayne.

And maybe none of his siblings even know about it until it’s brought up during an interview. Dick gets nervous, but no one can tell other than his siblings. He looks cool as a cucumber to the interviewer and the audience, but his siblings can all tell he’s upset. The interview ends soon after.

And now they’re all in the dining room at the manor, questioning Bruce, questioning Dick, asking them what the hell the interviewer meant by Dick not being adopted. And Bruce has to nervously admit to all his pissed off children that he never adopted Dick. That he and Dick had been on the outs when he was a teenager, and he turned 18 while living away from the manor, and he’d just never adopted him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love Dick, because he absolutely does, and still thinks of Dick as his son, still loves him.

But that’s not good enough for the others. They refuse to let another interviewer upset their oldest brother like that again. They insist that Bruce needs to adopt Dick now. Immediately.

And now it’s Dick’s turn to get awkward, to get nervous. Because he insists it’s not necessary. He knows Bruce loves him. He doesn’t need to be adopted, he swears.

Turns out, it’s because someone already beat Bruce to adopting him.

“Deathstroke adopted you?” Tim shrieks.

“To be fair, I didn’t realize it was real until a few years ago!”

“What do you mean you didn’t realize it was real?” Jason questions.

“I thought we were just posing as father and son, I thought it was fake documentation!”

“When the hell did this happen?”

“When I was sixteen.”

“Dick,” Bruce says slowly, and Dick sinks in his seat a bit as he turns back to Bruce. “Why would you have thought Slade Wilson had fake adoption documentation for you when you were sixteen?”

Dick laughs nervously, his fingers tugging at the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Funny story,” he says, his voice getting higher. “So he sort of kidnapped me and blackmailed me to be his apprentice for a while? When I was with the Titans?”

Bruce blinks at him, and all of his siblings are staring at him with open mouths.

“How long were you his apprentice?”

“Oh, you know,” Dick tries to laugh, waving a hand in the air to try to look nonchalant, “eight months or so? It’s such a fuzzy time, who could know for sure!”

“Eight months?” Bruce repeats slowly. “You were held captive by him for eight months, and you never told me?”

“You just said it yourself, we were on the outs!” Dick says quickly. “I didn’t wanna bug you!”

“Bug me?” Bruce looks like he’s about to start panicking. “You thought telling me you’d been kidnapped and blackmailed for nearly a year would bug me?”

“Well, you’d just replaced me,” he ignores the way Jason lets out a strangled sounding noise, “and by the time I got back you seemed so happy with your new kid and everything and I just didn’t wanna get in the way? Or like, bum you out?”

Dick’s own breaths are starting to come in too quickly, and he’s damn near hyperventilating, and he standing from his chair and making his way towards the door as if no one will notice if he moves slowly enough.

“Anyway, I was in a pretty bad place once the Titans got me back, and I probably would’ve been no fun to be around anyway. It’s all fine though! Everything’s fine! And Slade’s not even a total asshole anymore, he even actually checks in every so often. He’s a decent dad, all things considered. Speaking of which, look at the time, I think he wanted to get dinner with me and Joey and Grant, I better get going! Kay great talk good seeing you catch ya later!”

He bolts out of there so fast, Wally would be so proud. He didn’t mean to mention the dinner with the Wilsons he was headed to, but he was nervous, dammit, it just slipped out.

He’s a total wreck by the time he gets to Slade’s, and they all notice. When Dick tells them what happened, they all laugh at him.

Dick has really not had a very good day. It’s been a very bad day, actually. And now he’s stuck ignoring a million texts and calls from Bruce and his siblings.

He asks Slade if he can hide at his place for a few days. Slade easily agrees.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #slade wilson #batman #nightwing #dick is like 23-26 for this in my head #and I think it’d be fun if he’s the oldest kid amongst the Wayne’s but the youngest with the Wilson’s

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chamisulgrape · 1 month ago

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make you mine 𖤐 [l.hs]

After finding out that Sunghoon's been keeping you from the rest of them, Heeseung makes it his mission to remind Sunghoon who the real boss is.

ᢉ𐭩 part one (boss!sunghoon) | part two

pairing → boss!heeseung x secretary!afab reader word count → 4.9k tags → office au, boss!heeseung, secretary!reader, boss!hyungline series smut tags → pwp, dubcon, unprotected p in v, bondage/choking (with a belt), degradation, blowjobs, floor sex, breeding kink, free use kink, dom/sub elements, lots of spit/drool, mention of free use relationship with boss!hyungline, reader is a whore for hyungline & she's playing the long game, tl;dr just lots of nasty smut warnings → one line mentioning that boss!heeseung and boss!jake get it on behind the scenes and inviting reader to join them... :3 not proofread as always a/n → part 2 of boss!enha series finally out! reworked from one of my previous wips, pls reblog or leave me asks/comments if u enjoyed hehe that would make me very happy :3

♪ i wanna taste the crush, i wanna feel, i wanna lay you down, i wanna string you out, i wanna make you mine

minors dni.

You aren't surprised when Heeseung seeks you out, rather, you’re surprised by the purpose.

You’ve just finished another late night meeting at the office, when Heeseung asks you to stay back. It’s late, around midnight, but it’s Heeseung, all of your bosses' boss, so you can’t really refuse—you shouldn’t. If Heeseung asks someone to do something, they listen—you always listen.

You ignore the questioning look Sunghoon sends you. The rest of your bosses filter out slowly, along with the remaining executive staff and managers.

Sunghoon lingers, shooting you another look of concern before he turns to Heeseung, who’s on his phone, leaning back in his chair at the very end of the table. “Heeseung, it’s pretty late, can’t you talk to her tomorrow?”

Heeseung doesn’t even spare him a glance, still typing away on his phone. “This project is due in a month. She’s falling behind. She needs to catch up to everyone else.”

You know it’s bullshit. You know Sunghoon knows that it’s bullshit—but it’s Heeseung, and Sunghoon can’t argue against him. Sunghoon exhales, shrugging his laptop bag over his shoulder. He ducks down to press his lips against your cheek, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod. Sunghoon presses another kiss to your forehead before he leaves the conference room, leaving you and Heeseung alone.

“Heeseung,” you shift your weight on your feet. Heeseung is so, so far, but his presence suffocates you with his authority.

Heeseung finally looks up at this. You fidget awkwardly under the heavy gaze Heeseung’s looking at you with. “Hm?”

“What—what were you talking about?” You swallow. “We can go over everything now.”

Heeseung hums, voice low and deep. “Sure.”

You swallow, again. Heeseung walks over to the projector, plugging his phone into the USB port. Heeseung scrolls on his phone for a few seconds, before calling you over.

“You wanna choose a song? Some background noise. Just to help us think.” Heeseung asks over his shoulder. You cross the room, stopping once you’re behind Heeseung, peering over his shoulder to look over at his phone.

“You can choose, Sir. Anything.” You reply, stepping back to create some distance between them.

“Anything?” Heeseung repeats.

You shuffle your feet. “Yeah, anything is fine.”

Heeseung makes a sound in response, before he snorts. You furrow your brows in confusion.

“What?”

Heeseung’s reply comes a second later. “It’s just funny, isn’t it?”

“What’s funny?” You, out of curiosity, lean forward to see what Heeseung is laughing about.

Heeseung snickers, throwing his arm over your shoulders and handing you his phone. “Watch for yourself.”

You make a small sound, taking the phone into your hands. You regret it as soon as you do. You recognize it immediately—it being the video Heeseung is laughing at. You recognize it, in horror.

“Press play, _____.” Heeseung says, voice smooth.

“Heeseung—Sir, this,” you suck in a breath. “I can’t watch this.”

Heeseung pulls you closer and does it for you, pressing play on the video himself, murmuring a watch carefully. Your eyes go wide at the sound of the video echoing throughout the room, and the video playing on the huge projector.

“Heeseung!” You look at him, horrified when you remember that Heeseung’s phone is connected to the speakers.

Mortification washes over you at the sound of Sunghoon’s voice coming from the speakers and the sight of Sunghoon’s cock in your mouth—the same video Sunghoon recorded of you days ago. “Maybe I’ll send these to your bosses, hm? Let them all know how much you like this. Maybe I’ll let them take turns with you too.”

Your fingers tremble around the phone. You’re too horrified to look anywhere but the screen. Your cheeks burn when you hear Heeseung laugh, his hot breath hitting your ear.

Heeseung’s lips brush against your ear, and you vaguely register that the proximity between them has lessened; your shoulder digging into Heeseung’s chest and Heeseung’s arm still around your shoulders.

“Keep watching. It gets better.”

“Maybe even Jongseong. I see the way you look at him. You look at him the same way you look at Heeseung; the same way you look at me. Like if he asked you, you’d let him fuck you right then and there.”

You hear yourself whine in the video—you’re sure the whole company hears it, and you’re pretty sure your whole face is aflame with embarrassment. You want to cry—to run, to hide. You’re mortified.

Heeseung stops the video, snatching the phone from your hands and turning it off with a click, leaving it on top of one of the speakers. He looks at you expectantly. You don't know what he wants, too horrified to even think clearly.

“Heeseung—this isn’t—it isn’t what you think it is.” You try, swallowing the lump in your throat down.

Heeseung raises a brow. “What isn’t? The part about you wanting to fuck me, or the fact that Sunghoon’s cock was in your mouth?”

You inhale sharply. “No—it’s not like that.”

“It’s funny, we all knew Sunghoon had you wrapped around his finger, but we didn’t know it was like this. In the company bathroom too? God, he has you so desperate for him. Didn’t know you had it in you, Secretary _____.” Heeseung licks his teeth, and you let out a shuddering breath.

“That’s not true—it’s not like that.” You repeat. You sound like a broken record now.

“What? So you don’t want to me to fuck you? Sunghoon said if I asked, you would. Maybe it’s not me you want, maybe it’s Jongseong—no, don’t tell me, Jaeyun?” Heeseung has a sardonic grin playing on his lips, and distantly, it reminds him of Sunghoon.

“What?” You feel exposed—naked under Heeseung’s gaze—like you’re being scrutinized.

Your boss of over three years. Heeseung, the man who hired you himself, interviewed you himself, chose you out of hundreds of women. And now here you two are. Cat and mouse. You’ve played right into his hands.

Maybe Sunghoon was never the one who had control of you. It feels like the real boss was here all along. Waiting for you—wanting you.

Heeseung’s grin never falters, it only widens as he steps back to shrug off his blazer to let it fall to the ground below him, leaving him in a plain white button-up shirt. You stare at the fabric—and oh my god, what’s happening. It’s not that you don't want it, you just never thought it would happen this way, not like this. Not this quickly either.

“Well?” Heeseung tilts his head, sending you an unamused look. You can’t tell if this is real; Heeseung was always hard to read, hard to figure out. “I don’t have all day.”

You gulp. “Heeseung—I don’t—I don’t even have anything on me. We—”

“That’s okay. It’s better that way,” Heeseung reaches out to pat your hair, finger brushing through tangles. You feel like a joke. The feeling of embarrassment never fades, instead, settling into your body as a comfortable buzz. “Get on your knees and get me wet, okay?”

Maybe it’s the anticipation, or the respect you have for Heeseung—or the fact that you’d do absolutely anything Heeseung tells you to—but you nod, brain and body moving on autopilot. Your mind is fuzzy, radio static. Heeseung pushes you down by the head, down until your knees hit the floor with a soft thud.

“You’re so good for Sunghoon, you’ll be good for me, won’t you?” Heeseung murmurs, still petting your hair like you’re some sort of dog. You nod eagerly, hands coming up to grasp onto Heeseung’s thighs.

Heeseung’s lip curls at the contact. “Did I say you could touch me?”

“No, Heeseung.” You reply quickly, obediently removing your hands quickly to rest in small fists by your side. Heeseung shakes his head lightly, and you salivates in anticipation when you hear Heeseung’s belt hit the ground.

“Good. Get to work, Secretary _____.”

That’s how you find yourself like this: on your knees, your fingers gripping the hem of your skirt in an attempt to keep your hands down, and Heeseung’s cock, thick and heavy, resting on your tongue.

Heeseung isn’t as big as Sunghoon is, but for what he lacks in length, he makes up with girth. He fills up your mouth better than Sunghoon does, his cock stretches your lips just right. Your lids are hooded as you peer up at Heeseung through your lashes, trying to gauge his reactions so you know when to swallow, when to suck, when to graze your teeth against him the slightest bit.

“Stop fucking drooling,” Heeseung growls, voice low. You whine in response, it’s not like you can help it. “I don’t like it messy, didn’t Sunghoon tell you?”

You try your best to nod, just to show Heeseung that you do know, and that Sunghoon did tell you. You make a sound around Heeseung’s cock, causing Heeseung to groan lowly, pressing in deeper, deeper until the head of his cock barely brushes the back of your throat.

“You’re just like Jaeyun. Both get so dumb for cock that you can’t help but drool all over yourselves, like fucking whores.” Heeseung licks his teeth, smirking.

You whine, squeezing your thighs together. Heeseung only laughs lightly, running a hand through your hair. “Jaeyun’s sloppy, but at least he knows how to suck cock properly. You’re just boring. How do you get Sunghoon off like this? Doesn’t he teach you any better?”

Heeseung pulls out, frowning at the sight of the spit that’s collected in your mouth spilling out the corner of your lips. You chase after him, making a sound of protest at the lack of cock in your mouth. Heeseung lets you mouth at his tip for a moment before yanking you back by the hair.

“Has Sunghoon fucked you today?” You shake your head with a wince, but stay pliant under Heeseung’s hold. “Good. Then I’ll be the first.”

The thought of coming home to Sunghoon, Sunghoon knowing that Heeseung got his way with you first, Sunghoon smelling Heeseung on you—the thought makes your body vibrate, shake with anticipation.

“You’re so eager. Just like a dog.” Heeseung hums. His voice is sweet like honey, contradicting his words. Heeseung licks his teeth, grinning, and your stomach churns. “Maybe I should treat you like one, hm?”

Heeseung releases his grip on your hair then, bending down until he’s squatting, eye-level with you. His eyes roam over your figure, and you feel so small under his gaze.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Heeseung says, and you respond with a nod. You’d take anything Heeseung gives him. Always.

Heeseung’s lips curl into a smirk, eyes burning holes into you. “Good. Sit.”

You choke on a breath. When you doesn’t comply, Heeseung frowns at you. “Didn’t you hear me? I said sit. Down.”

Heeseung reaches out, laying a hand on your shoulder, pushing you ever so gently. You follow, legs spreading wider and wider until your ass meets the rough carpet floor. Heeseung smiles then, petting your hair again. “Good girl.”

You inhale sharply, and swallow. Your cheeks heat at the praise, and you preen inwardly. Heeseung cards his fingers through your hair, before his hand falls lower, fingers brushing against your cheek before they grip at your chin. Heeseung tilts your head to the side.

“You’re so pretty. Does Sunghoon ever tell you how pretty you are?” Heeseung asks, and you nod. “It’s a shame Sunghoon got to you first, me and Jaeyun would have so much fun with you. But Sunghoon shares, doesn’t he?”

You gulp. As much as Sunghoon likes to tease you about the other members, You know that he’s possessive, more than just jealous and selfish. Sunghoon doesn’t like to share, he just likes the thought of the members wanting, and not being able to have. Sunghoon likes to come out on top.

You shake your head, and Heeseung releases his hold on your chin. “Tsk, he’ll just have to learn to then.”

”Does Sunghoon ever mark you?” Heeseung reaches behind you, and you hears the clatter of something on the floor before you see Heeseung’s belt in his hand.

You swallow. “No, Heeseung. I don’t let him—the company would see.”

Heeseung’s lips turn down, and he frowns. “Shame. You’d look so pretty with marks, wouldn’t you?” You nod, squeezing your thighs together at the thought of wearing Heeseung’s marks—having Sunghoon seeing Heeseung’s marks on you.

Heeseung seems to read your mind, because the next words that come out of his mouth are, “I’ll make sure to mark you good. I’ll mark you so that Sunghoon sees it for days, so that every time you look in the mirror, you’re reminded of me.”

You don't get a chance to reply before Heeseung wraps the belt around your neck and pulls you forward lightly. Heeseung secures the belt around your neck, and you cough when the buckle digs into your throat. Heeseung tightens it, looping one end through the buckle.

Heeseung stands then, holding the strap of the belt in his hand. He yanks the belt suddenly, and you fall face-forward, choking on a breath as your cheek presses into Heeseung’s thigh. You hear Heeseung laugh, and your face burns with mortification. Heeseung doesn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that his cock is still out, brushing against your hair. The realization causes you to hide your face in between Heeseung’s legs, ashamed.

“Look at me,” you take a deep breath, shaking your head. “Your boss is asking you to do something.”

You pull back, carefully, to look up at Heeseung. You gnaw on your lip, blinking up at Heeseung with wide eyes. Heeseung tugs on the belt again, and you let yourself be pulled, chin resting against Heeseung’s thigh as you maintain eye contact. Heeseung’s cock brushes against your cheek, and you are suddenly filled to the brim again with want. You have to swallow your saliva down when your mouth pools with spit.

You whine, chin digging into Heeseung’s leg. Heeseung toys with the end of the strap, and he coos. “What? What do you want? Tell me.”

“Heeseung,” you pout. Heeseung knows what you want, he’s just being mean.

Heeseung tilts his head, humming. “What?”

“Heeseung, please.” You plead, eyes scrunching up when Heeseung pulls on the belt again. Your neck already aches, and a dull pain settles in throughout your spine.

“You want me that bad?” You nod, and Heeseung’s lips twist mockingly. “How am I supposed to say no to you when you look so pretty for me?”

Heeseung grips the belt tighter as he moves to stand behind you, and your heart beats rapidly, anticipation growing again. Heeseung pushes you forward harshly, and you let out a startled yelp when your chest and cheek hit the dirty carpet. You swallow down the sudden disgust and try not to think about how filthy the floor is. You want Heeseung too badly to be worrying about how dirty the floor must be.

With your face turned to the windows, in the reflection, you can still see Heeseung like this. You also see yourself; face and cheeks pink, hair a mess from Heeseung grabbing at it, and your dress-shirt crinkled and pushed up to your stomach.

Heeseung squats behind you, belt strap wrapped securely around his hand. Heeseung gives it another tug, and you wince in pain as the buckle digs deeper into the soft skin of your throat. You can already feel the belt-shaped bruises forming—and you can’t stop yourself from whining because you want them. You want so badly to sport Heeseung’s marks, to see how Sunghoon reacts to seeing the bruises on your neck—bruises that aren’t his.

Heeseung runs his free hand up the back of your leg, fingers barely brushing underneath your skirt. You whimper, and you mumble out another please.

“Please? Please what? You have to tell me what you want.” Heeseung murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your skirt.

You press your thighs together, squeezing them in an attempt to give yourself any sort of friction or relief. Heeseung tuts, pinching your leg as he reprimands you. “Stop.”

“Heeseung—touch me, please,” you breathe out, begging. “Need it, I want you so bad—please.”

Heeseung’s thumb rubs against your flesh, soothing over where he pinched you. “So polite. Should I give you what you want?”

You try your best to nod, cheek rubbing against the floor. “Please, Hee—Heeseung, please.”

Heeseung lets go of the belt, leaning back and letting the strap fall to the floor. You shiver as Heeseung pulls your skirt and panties down harshly, throwing them off somewhere to the side, before—

“Fuck, this is why Sunghoon doesn’t share. He doesn’t want anyone else fucking you because you have the prettiest fucking pussy.” Heeseung exhales slowly, and you shudder, legs subconsciously spreading wider to present yourself to Heeseung.

You take a shaky breath as the cold air hits your cunt, goosebumps forming on your bare legs. Heeseung is staring between your legs like he can’t look away.

“Could’ve been fucking you here before Sunghoon did,” Heeseung runs both of his hands up your thighs, stopping at your ass. He spreads your cheeks apart slowly, watching as your hole flutters at the contact, clenching around nothing. “I don’t blame him, would’ve kept you in my bed too if I knew you looked like this.”

“Heeseung, touch me, please—need you so bad.” You say, voice cracking, dripping with desperation as you raise your hips the slightest, pushing back against Heeseung’s hands. Heeseung squeezes your cheeks once before removing his hands, causing you to whine at the loss of contact.

“Does Sunghoon fuck you here?” Heeseung asks, running a finger through your slit. Your hips buck, and you moan, nodding. You press your lips together to hold back another moan as Heeseung spreads your lips apart with his fingers.

Heeseung exhales shakily. “Of course he does—how could he not? He probably fucks you in the office too, when we’re all working, huh? Is that why he drags you off so often? To fuck in the bathroom while we’re all here?”

“Heeseung, please.” You whine out, teetering between wanting to cry out of frustration or begging for Heeseung to just touch you already.

“You can be patient, can’t you?” Heeseung sighs, shaking his head lightly. “Thought I taught you how to wait like a good girl.”

You sniffle, holding back tears of frustration. You nod, lips curling into a pout. “Yes, Heeseung.”

Heeseung smiles, satisfied with your answer and obedience. He drags the pads of his fingers through your slit again, brushing lightly over your hole before retracting them and repeating the motion.

“You’re so wet, you’re practically dripping. Do you like me that much?” Heeseung teases. You squeeze your eyes shut, and nod again, bashfully. “You’re so cute, aren’t you?”

In a second, Heeseung’s hands are on your hips, raising you until you’re ass up and holding yourself up with your palms. Heeseung smooths his hand down your back, squeezing the side of your hip. You hate how your stomach constricts at the position—hates how your hole leaks and coats your inner thighs with more slick.

“Want it?” Heeseung runs his fingers through the mess, dragging his fingers up until they hover right against your hole. You give a full-body shudder, eyes falling shut.

“Yes, please—Heeseung. Please.” You sniffle again, and Heeseung hums, thoughtfully. When you open your eyes, Heeseung is holding onto the belt strap again. You clench at the sight of him.

Heeseung circles a finger around your hole, pushing in the tip of his finger before pulling back. You whine, head falling forward. You hear Heeseung swallow, loud and clear in the quiet meeting room.

“Stop whining like a bitch. I’ll give you what you want.” Heeseung says, sharply, before yanking on the belt as he pushes three fingers inside of you without warning.

Your reaction is instantaneous; you practically sob, moaning so loud that you hear it echo throughout the room, and fall face forward onto your chest. You hear Heeseung click his tongue, fingers stilling where they are, knuckle-deep inside of your cunt.

“You’re so fucking noisy,” Heeseung hisses. “Sunghoon never teach you how to be quiet? I’m not gonna fuck you if you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Sorry—I’m sorry, Heeseung, ‘m sorry.” You mumble out, then bite down on your bottom lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you broke skin. You try your best to stay quiet as Heeseung rubs at your clit with his thumb, moving the fingers he has inside you slowly every few seconds.

Heeseung tugs on the belt in time with every circle of his finger, every rub at your clit is another tug, another pull. You can feel yourself leaking slick around Heeseung’s fingers and down to your thighs, you can hear it so loudly each time Heeseung crooks his fingers inside of you.

Heeseung pulls his fingers out then, detaching himself from you completely. You clench around his fingers in an attempt to keep them inside of you.

“No, no, no! Heeseung, why! Don’t,” You stammer helplessly, so painfully empty now that Heeseung’s fingers aren’t inside of you. You choke on a sob, a plea. “Don’t stop! Why’d you stop?”

You lift yourself off of the ground, weight resting on your forearms as you turn back to look at Heeseung. Heeseung gazes back at you, and there’s a sort of fondness in his eyes that contradicts the small, uninterested frown on his face.

Heeseung drops the belt to reach further, hand gripping the back of your head and his thumb digging into your cheek. All the air leaves your lungs when Heeseung forces you down again. You stay pliant, cheek pressed firmly against the floor once more.

“Stay down. Did I tell you that you could get up? I don’t fucking think so.” Heeseung punctuates it by pressing you down harder, and your cheekbone aches with the force of it.

“No, Heeseung. ‘m sorry,” you mumble, cheek squished between Heeseung’s fingers and the floor. You feel saliva drip out the corner of your lip, making a mess between your cheek and seeping into the carpet. “I’ll be good—I’ll be good for you, Heeseung.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue, giving your head one last squeeze before he lets up, leaning back onto his knees again. “You’re so difficult. I thought Sunghoon would’ve taught you better, but he just lets you act like a spoiled fucking pillow princess.”

You exhale shakily, breath coming out in short huffs. The way Heeseung treats you is so very different from Sunghoon. With Sunghoon, you can press all his buttons. You can tease and make snarky remarks all you want untll Sunghoon snaps, until Sunghoon fucks submission into you. With Heeseung, you know better than to speak out of turn. You know to remember your place.

“I’m sorry, Heeseung. I’ll be better, please, I’ll be good for you,” you trail off with a whine, high and needy in the back of your throat. “Heeseung, please.”

“You’re a whore,” Heeseung hisses. Your pulse thrums with excitement and adrenaline and then fear when you feel the head of Heeseung’s cock brush against your hole. “Bet Sunghoon doesn’t even have to stretch you out before he fucks you, ‘cause your cunt is already all used up and fucked loose, just like a bitch.”

You scream when Heeseung pushes into you, hips flush against your ass and cock deep inside of you, the girth stretching you open so nicely and painfully that you can only cry helplessly, your head a spinning haze of pain and submission and pleasure.

“God, and you’re a screamer too? Sunghoon must have so much fun with you.” Heeseung says lowly, pulling his hips back until the tip of his cock catches on your rim, and then punching back into you.

Your cheek rubs against the floor with every thrust Heeseung delivers. “Heeseung! Fuck!”

Heeseung yanks you up by the belt, using it to pull his hips forward, timing every thrust with another tug. The buckle of the belt has rubbed the skin of your throat raw, but the pain only adds to the growing coil in your stomach. You want Heeseung to make you bleed, you want there to be bruises—scars.

“Heeseung—so good! It’s so good, Heeseung,” your eyes roll back when Heeseung’s cock hits you just right, rubbing against your walls and pressing repeatedly into the spot that makes your vision go blurry. “Oh, fuck, Hee—”

Heeseung speeds up his thrusts then, gripping the belt tightly in his fist as he slams into you, so strong that you have to claw at the floor, nails scratching and digging helplessly as you try to find anything to steady yourself as your body rocks forward. Heeseung presses his back to your chest, leaning in. “You can’t get pregnant, can you?”

“No—fuck, I can’t. Birth control.” You shake your head, hair falling into your eyes.

“Shame,” Heeseung says, disappointed. “Would’ve knocked you up, let Sunghoon know you’re walking around with my kids.” Heeseung groans and stills his hips, pressing further into you, deeper. You whimper, clenching around his cock when you feel Heeseung twitch inside of you.

“Heeseung! Want it, please, please!” You babble incoherently, mind going blank at the thought of Heeseung claiming you from the inside, breeding you.

“Yeah?” Heeseung groans, hips snapping forward as he tugs on the belt again, relishing in the way you bare your neck in submission. “You want my kids? You’re a shitty secretary anyway. You’d be so much better in my bed every night, letting me fuck you pregnant.”

You cry, switching between moaning out small please’s and Heeseung’s, too fucked dumb to think straight or talk properly.

Heeseung laughs behind you, speeding up his thrusts again. “You’re so obedient. You just take what’s given to you, hm? Like a fucking dog.”

Tears spill out of your eyes, and you love it. You love feeling used by Heeseung, feeling helpless and pathetic and below him, feeling like nothing but Heeseung’s pet to fuck. The thought has you clenching around Heeseung’s cock again, and it’s music to your ears when Heeseung groans lowly.

Your moans are high and whiny and loud, so loud that Heeseung has to reach out with his free hand to muffle you, fingers digging into your cheek so hard that you think it’s going to bruise.

“You’re too fucking loud. What’d I tell you about being loud? It’d be nice if you didn’t just sound like a whiny bitch all the time.”

Heeseung fucks you fast, and your ears and senses are all focused on him; your mind is livid with the thought of Heeseung Heeseung Heeseung and your ears are filled with sounds of the small squelches of Heeseung fucking into your hole.

Your cries are muffled behind Heeseung’s hand, and you have to breathe in sharply with every punch of Heeseung’s hips. Your orgasm builds up quickly, you’ve been on edge ever since Heeseung fastened the fucking belt around your neck.

Heeseung removes his hand to fist it back in your hair instead, pulling your head back so high that your neck aches, pain spreading all the way to your lower back and through your bones. “Say my name.”

“Heeseung! Heeseung, Heeseung, fuck, Heeseung!” You cry out in a painful mix of torture and pleasure.

Heeseung growls, low in the back of his throat as he yanks on the belt with more force. “Say my name. Again.”

“Heeseung,” you moan, trailing off into a desperate sob. “Heeseung! Heeseung, Heeseung, ah!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna make sure Sunghoon knows I fucked you. Gonna cum in you, let Sunghoon know that he’s got my sloppy seconds.”

That’s what does it for you. Your body seizes up, and you tighten so hard around Heeseung when you finally cum hard. Your body wracks with shivers as you cum around Heeseung’s cock. You nearly black out, and you fall limp under Heeseung’s grip.

“Fuck, fuck.” Heeseung groans, fucking you through it.

“Heeseung! Heeseung, please, please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for at this point, head muddled and fuzzy in a post-orgasm bliss.

Heeseung follows shortly after, hips stilling deep inside of you as he cums, filling you to the brim and claiming you from the inside. You bask in it, satisfaction fills you. This is what you wanted, this is what you’ve been waiting for.

You breath heavily as you catch your breath, still slumped on the floor. Heeseung pulls out, and you grimaces at the feeling of warm cum dribbling down your thighs.

“You know, Heeseung, that was kinda fast.” You say, and Heeseung yanks the belt so hard that you get whiplash.

Heeseung snorts, his grip tight around the belt. “I bet I lasted even longer than Sunghoon does.”

You shake your head with a smile, glancing at the clock that hangs in the corner of the room. You squint, taking a mental note of the time. “You think you can last longer than Jay?”

“I know I can.” Heeseung rolls his eyes, dropping the belt and pushing himself off the floor to clean himself up.

You huff, licking your teeth with a smug smile. “I’ll see.”

“What, you’re planning on going to him next?” Heeseung snorts, again, before kneeling down in front of you. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up. “Why don’t you come play with me and Jaeyun, hm? We’ll treat you good, better than Jay and Sunghoon can.”

You shudder, clenching around nothing as more cum trickles out of your hole. Heeseung tilts his head with a smirk, “Yeah?”

“Maybe.” You keep your voice steady, but you’re sure Heeseung can see your lips tremble.

Heeseung hums before standing up, stretching his arms above his head. “Clean yourself up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

a/n: it's finally out !! each of the parts will showcase different dynamics, if u didn't notice what i was doing already! i wanted to show and write the different dynamics that reader has with hyungline :3

masterlist

#chamisulgrape #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #lee heeseung smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung imagines #enhypen scenarios #heeseung x reader #enhypen office au #enhypen fanfic

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screampied · 1 year ago

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gojo had a dream you died.

it was partially the reason why he woke up in a cold sweat… it was horrid.

he could still hear your screams, the life leaving your eyes, but more importantly, he remembered your final words that were murmured to him. “satoru, don’t… cry, i’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.” and he believed you, that everything would be okay. despite tears filling his eyes, labeled the strongest at that moment, he couldn’t have ever felt so weak.

the dream felt so real, that was the scary part. he remembered each and every detail. from the feeling of you giving his wrist a light squeeze, the sweet smell of your natural scent.. the eerie sounds of your irregular wheezes as you were clinging on your final moments.

“don’t leave me,” he mutters, he remembers saying that. three simple words, yet his dilated pupils spoke a thousand. he started to repeat it. again and again as if it was a mantra. his words, his tone broke the more he spoke to you. that cute smile of yours never left your lips, it remained there. regardless of your inevitable incoming fate, he sobs, “you’re…you’re all i have left. i don’t wanna be left alone again, just stay. please, baby.”

“i’m not going anywhere, ‘toru,” you’d reassure him, a single tear drop of his falls onto your cheek.

after that moment, gojo wakes up. trembling, yet the dream wasn’t that feared him the most. it was him waking up with you not next to him..

cold, everything felt cold.

he shot up immediately from his dream. the cold sweat that forever continued to race down his back as he panted.

he was so used to your warmth taking up part of the bed. albeit, in this case though. it felt empty,

isolated.

it was near the middle of the night, gojo was drowsy, rubbing his eyes to blind his vision with imaginary stars. feeling for the bed, it was frigid.

“baby?” he’d grumble, white lashes partially open. silence called back to him, if it was anything about gojo, he hated being alone.

oh, he loathed it,

yet whenever you came into his life—he didn’t have to worry about that. you were always besides him, no matter what.

until now.

it takes him a split second before it dawns on him. your fatal death, it wasn’t another one of his silly surreal dreams. it was nothing but mere reality.

a breath gets caught in his throat once he realizes, being brought back into harsh realness. you were gone.

it’s been years, speaking of which…

it was your anniversary with him. the same exact day he proposed to you. he remembers it vividly, getting down on one knee with the goofiest grin. he didn’t even say, “will you marry me..?” instead, he snorts a sheepish, “let’s get married, heh.”

“i always forget around this time,” gojo sighs to himself with a soft tone, his voice was a bit raspy from abruptly waking up. intaking a sharp inhale, he goes towards your side of the bed and he reaches into his pocket.

“it should have been me,” and he doesn’t even care he’s talking to himself, it’s like for whatever reason, your presence was near him. “our marriage,” and then with a brief sniffle, he glances down at the ring you once wore proudly. he strokes it with a thumb before huffing out a shaky, “our marriage, it was supposed to last us for infinity…”

but it didn’t.

with hot tears streaming down his face and stuck a power he wished he’d never have, in the end, it couldn’t save you.

he couldn’t save you.

and now…

the strongest, the most brave to ever live and walk could easily be mistaken as the weakest.

#★vegasbaby.#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #jjk drabbles

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xaviever · 1 month ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ଓ overstim with him!

including. xavier, zayne, sylus, & caleb.

summary. scenarios where one or both of you are overstimulated during sex. ˃𖥦˂

cw. (afab!reader) 🔞 mdni. softdom!zayne. kinda sub!sylus. patheticdom?caleb. overstimulation, obvi. breeding (xav & caleb), dumbification (zayne), xavier says ily in it. use of baby, sweetheart, princess, & dear.

ᢉ𐭩 xavier!

this is nothing new. xavier is often overwhelmed by his need for you. his impressive stamina and unbridled desire are a wicked combo, leaving you in for long, long nights when his restraint snaps. he’s had you against the door when you first arrived home, on the couch, kitchen counter, in the shower; now, finally, in bed on your side, slowly and deeply kissing each corner of your insides like some lecherous love letter.

“xav- baby, s’too much,” your voice sounds scratchy and foreign from the amount of strain over the last few hours. in response, your thigh is hiked up further, flush against his sweaty chest for a better angle. "fuckfuck, my god, xavier!"

“made to take me…” his lips find their way to your ear, sucking on the lobe as he rambles, unbelievably pussydrunk and obsessed with the repeated slosh your combined releases have created. he keeps his voice as steady and soft as he can while not losing his pace, fucking as deep inside you as your body allows.

“you’re molded to me, baby. mmf, made to be pumped f-full of my cum. you were made for me.”

all of your senses feel on fire, completely overloaded from your evening of being folded into impossible positions again and again. xavier is nothing if not insatiable when it comes to claiming you, his hunger for you, your presence, your attention, your sweet cunt taking him to the hilt like it was destined for his cock.

he's as sensitive as you are now, gasping each thrust, almost whimpering, "just one more, p-please. aah, you can do it. i feel you, mmfuck. i know you're close..."

you nod dopily, consumed by the way your numbness dissipates, body buzzing as you somehow find the will to cum again. your arm moves back to cage his head against yours, and he fucks you both through the haziness, his moans and your broken cries a symphony in the night. he cums hard, and so much, an insane amount after emptying himself inside you all night. the two of you lay entangled in one another, both too sore and thoughtless to even fathom moving.

"i love you so much. so much..." xavier professes into your shoulder, pressing clammy kisses to every part of your neck he can reach in silent worship before drifting off in your aftershocks together.

ᢉ𐭩 zayne!

you can't even speak. zayne’s fingers and tongue have been working you skillfully for so long, too long. he's memorized everything about your body. how you like your clit sucked, when and how to point and flatten his tongue. he knows all your sweet spots, the exact angle, pace, intensity needed for you to cum the hardest, see stars and make you dumb the easiest. of course, he'd never degrade you and call you such, though there's something so riveting about having you brainless under him, entirely overcome by his expertise in your pleasure.

you're cumming all over his hand for nth time with a weak cry, shivering as he holds your hip down to the bed so he can properly fuck you through the waves, not stopping until he feels you've given him every last drop once more. big tears roll down the sides of your cheeks, which he immediately responds to, bringing the hand holding you down up your body to your face and sweetly caressing.

"you've been so good for me. i'm proud of you, my perfect girl."

his pruny fingers slip from you with no resistance. zayne coos at you hearing your tired whines, softly maneuvering you while he shushes and mutters reflexive praises. you’re okay, safe, he’s going to take care of you. he always does. before you can register it your legs are spread widely apart, zayne’s practiced caution evident in how delicately he handles you.

"i believe you can take a bit more for me, no?" he strokes himself unhurriedly, all while thumbing your clit, keeping you stimulated still. he still appears relatively composed above you, one of his only giveaways being the stuttering of his breath, barely controlled lust seeping through him.

zayne enters you steadily, always being gracious enough to let you adjust to his girth. "hah... she's been waiting for me. i can tell." your messy cunt welcomes him warmly, his heavy tip opening you up in a way his fingers could not. it has you reanimating, thighs shooting up to clench around his hips. you spasm, the ghost of an orgasm making you seize around him and ripping the air from both of your lungs.

he sighs out at the feeling of his full length bottomed out inside you, admiring you pliant and glowing under him. “i... ha-have to hear you, dear.” the same fingers that were previously stretching your cunt softly push past your pouty lips. he splays them all over your tongue, forcing the sounds you'd been too delirious to let out escape while he begins fucking into you like a promise.

“mmh, say my name. i know you can.”

ᢉ𐭩 sylus!

you just wanted sylus to feel good, like he so often makes you feel. ...and if you maybe got a little power hungry and ended up addicted to the way he falls apart, holding him down, coaxing him into letting you make him cum over and over, on your seventh "one more" of the night... well, that is not a crime.

in all actuality, though, sylus does not need much convincing. he's not one to oppose you, naturally. however, the second you got commanding, a small switch flipped in his brain and he couldn't save face, couldn't stay above his innate call to submit to you. he's unsure why he'd ever fight it now. sylus is enraptured by your hedonism tonight, reduced from his usual weighty presence to something only you can unlock within him. something yours.

"you know you've got such a pretty dick, baby," you purr, flicking your wrist as you jerk him off with a casual pace, one that's become less bearable after multiple releases. "so big, pink and drippy for me. for me, right, sy?"

the prettiest moans fall from his lips when his head lolls against his headboard, barely deciphering what you've said but knowing to agree, anyway. he nods lazily, peering down at you through clouded, low eyes. his brows are knit in the most desperate expression you've ever seen from him, zeroed in on you. sylus gasps in a big breath after you squeeze him at the base, trying to get more of those beautiful sounds from him.

"yes. yes, sweetheart, y-youu, ffuuck-" he drawls, feeling on the precipice of cumming once more with every slight movement of yours. "yours. aagh! haah, fuck, a-all of me. everything."

his words go straight to your pussy, pulsing from your neglect. having him fill you to the brim sounds amazing, hearing him be this submissive under you? you moan a little at your own imagination. sylus continues to whine, grounding you here as you conclude before you satiate your need, you have to hear him cum one more time. just one more. he can take it.

your hand speeds up wordlessly, already knowing how close he is from the way he twitches, so beautiful and sensitive. "kitten, please." he sounds so sultry begging for you, his voice pitching with need, a frequency only for your ears. you're addicted to this side of him. "i want...w-want to cum for you again."

ᢉ𐭩 caleb!

“sh-shit, you- aangh, p-” caleb’s head feels impossibly heavy as he allows it to fall back against the couch cushion. any attempt at a plea falls shorter with each rhythmic bounce of your hips.

you'd jumped him as soon as he settled into your home from his visit, taking initiative and sinking yourself down on him at the first opportunity. he should've known he was in for it with how easily he slipped inside you, like you prepped without him. this was premeditated. the drag of your walls around him, hot and wet and unrelenting, you were fucking him like he owed you something.

“pips! princeeess, ffuck, please. you’re milkin’ me for all i’m worth, haah-” he’s cut off by his own breathy moan. you don’t stop, not even for a second. if caleb really couldn’t take it he’d safeword or lift you with his evol, yet he only has the brainpower to hiccup and whine under you as you use his dick to your heart’s content.

his hands squeeze your hips for relief, kneading your soft skin for any kind of purchase. you lean down, your fucked out moans vibrate against his neck as you nestle your mouth there. you instinctively sink your teeth into him, pulling something lewd, broken from his throat that even he was a little appalled by.

he doesn't think he's ever cum this much in succession. caleb is already very easy, often fighting hard to not cum from the smallest of your intimacies. you can imagine how hard it is to stay lucid when he has no choice but to cum for you over and over again.

the two of you sound like a couple of pornstars, producing some of the most depraved noises you've ever heard come out of each other, and the constant plap! plap! plap! resounding in your living room.

"need you. cum- nghh, cum in me again," you moan a little animalistically as you rise, facing caleb again to speak. you grab his face, smushing it to make him focus, wanting him to hear your words. "want all of you, c-caleb. pleease."

pitiful as he is, caleb whines at your words, the noise jarbled from your grip on his face. he's throbbing painfully at the admission of your need, hands getting rougher, faster, gathering his remaining coherence to make you scream and chase this release as much as you were. your hands fall, gripping his chest for stability, and caleb groans, dipping his forehead down to rest against yours.

"fuck, baby. got me shootin' blanks and you still want 'em. filthy girl."

— authors note. just couldn’t stop thinking abt this one sub!sylus fic i read… all this came from that lolol. rbs are appreciated!

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yasministration · 2 months ago

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It's a date - harry potter

concussions and interruptions au summary: when harry and his parents see you in diagon alley, they are surprised to see the sudden change in behaviour you have at your parents' presence. but that won't stop harry from getting his kiss. wc: 1.4k+

Harry leaned his head on his hand, laughing softly as his mother told him a story, much to his father’s embarrassment. “She’s getting it completely wrong!” Argued James as Harry lifted up his butterbeer to his lips, eyes trailing to the side to watch people walk up and down the square, the wide streets of Diagon Alley giving him opportunity to people watch.

He was sat with his parents on a table on the side of the road, enjoying a drink from their favourite café, the summer sun shining down brightly on them. Harry closed his eyes softly as the rays of sun targeted him, and James immediately took the hat off his head to offer it to his son. Harry shook his head, thanking his father and urging Lily to continue her story.

But he suddenly wasn’t able to focus, because walking out of Ceridwen’s Cauldrons was the love of his life. Harry straightened up, a wide grin forming on his face as he saw you, but before he could call out your name, a tall woman walked out of the shop behind you, a stern look on her face as she walked side by side with you.

Harry slumped back, holding his tongue. The woman was unmistakably your mother. What you were wearing made sense now. Like every pureblood woman, you looked oddly comfortable in your elegant black dress that stopped below your knee and heels that were undeniably a challenge to walk in on the uneven stone. Lily and James followed their son’s eye line, frowning at the neutral look on your face; emotionless, matching that of just about every single pureblood.

They suddenly remembered when they’d stopped by the hospital wing after Harry had gotten himself injured in another quidditch game. You had a fond smile on your face, looking at the boy with mesmerised eyes, the love on your features indisputable. The girlfriend they were seeing now was not the same one they’d met at hogwarts, who stuttered when seeing them, a look of embarrassment on your face when your boyfriend had pulled you into a kiss in front of his parents.

Now, with a stoic expression on your face, you were unrecognisable. Your eyes flitted upwards at the feeling that you were being watched. You almost smiled when you saw Harry, feeling the corners of your lips tug upwards, but in practiced habit, you trained your lips to stay still. Neither Harry or his parents missed the way your eyes lit up with youthful excitement, but your head quickly snapped to the side to look at your mother who had been expecting a response from you.

Nodding, you watched as she took a left into the nearest shop, and instead of following her instructions to ‘wait here’, you hurried your steps down the lane, letting a beautiful smile blossom on your face.

Control yourself, you repeated in your mind, coming to a halt in front of the table. “Hi.” You spoke softly, greeting your boyfriend and his parents. “Am I allowed to give you a hug, or..?” You smiled apologetically at your boy, shaking your head slowly. “I’m sorry Harry, my family is everywhere.” Harry nodded, trying to suppress the sadness from appearing on his face, but you still saw the way it fleeted across his eyes.

“Mr. and Mrs. Potter.” You greeted, bowing your head down to them. James grinned at you, chuckling softly as he said hello. He was thrilled to find out you weren’t still humiliated from the kiss Harry had placed upon your lips in front of them. After all, it had been several months since they had met you for the first time.

You did an apprehensive look around, ensuring none of your family was around. Alas, a strong hand was placed on your shoulder and you gasped, straightening your back impossibly further than it already was. “Why are you standing around in the middle of the street?” You father questioned with a strict, judgemental tone.

Lily frowned as the smile immediately dropped from your face, replaced by a look of fear. “I, um, I’m waiting for mother.” Your father scanned the area nearby, tilting his head in question when he didn’t spot his wife. “She’s in Shyverwretch's Venoms and Poisons.” You explained.

Your father hummed at your response, and you realised his gaze was occupied. You turned around, following his line of sight. He was staring directly at James Potter. “Potter.” Your father spat, receiving a scowl from your boyfriend’s father.

He yanked you away from the table and you stumbled towards him. Though he lowered his volume, Harry still heard him say “I have business in Knockturn Alley. Meet me with your mother by Esmerelda’s Bakery.”

You nodded obediently at your father, and he added “Don’t forget to tell her. I don’t need you making silly mistakes again.”

“Yes, father. I apologise for my mistakes.”

“Have you gone to your mother’s designer to discuss a dress for the Parkinsons’ ball?” You shook your head wordlessly. “I expect you to be done when I return.”

“How long-” But your father was already spinning on the balls of his feet and disappearing into the alleyway.

You cleared your throat, beginning to walk away when you felt a tug on your hand. You pulled your hand away from Harry’s hold, looking around to make sure no one had seen the small movement. “It’s fine.” You mumbled, giving him a small smile. “It was nice to see you.” You directed those words to Harry’s parents before you were on your way to find your mother again. Lily Potter tightened her grip around her husband's arm, a frown forming on her face. She glanced at Harry, reaching out to place a hand over one of his, his gaze stuck on where you disappeared into the shop.

Your mother was still busy in the shop, discussing something in a hushed tone with the worker. “Mother, should I go to the tailor? Get my measurements before she discusses the designs with us?” She dismissed you with a “Yes, go along dear.” And you were immediately rushing out of the shop, trying to shake off the embarrassment of Harry and his parents witnessing the exchange with your father.

You made a sharp turn into an empty alleyway, only stopping at the sharp call of your name. Harry was running towards you, panting softly. You took the opportunity to scan his outfit — something you hadn't had time for before. A light-washed pair of jeans and a plain green t-shirt. Smiling at him softly, you said in an ‘I told you so’ voice “I told you green suits you better.”

“Yeah, that’s why mum got me this shirt. Said who do you want to impress other than your girlfriend?”

You chuckled, lifting your hands up to Harry’s chest. He pushed you back against the wall of the alley and you gasped as he pressed his lips to yours, his nose nudging the side of yours. “I just really wanted to get that hug.” Harry explained, his arms snaking around your waist. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

Pecking Harry’s lips softly, you mumbled “I’m sorry you had to see that with my father.” Harry’s hand came up to hold the side of your face. “No, I’m sorry sweetheart. That you have to deal with jerks like him.”

“Yeah, me too.” You glanced up at Harry, feeling yourself shrink under his watchful gaze. “Uh, can I get a last kiss before we let go?” Harry laughed as he leaned in, kissing you passionately for a few seconds before parting from you completely, arms falling to his sides. You sighed as he took a couple of steps back.

“So the Parkinsons’ ball. Do you have a date?” Questioned Harry, trying not to sound jealous. “Yeah,” You started, and Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had been joking. “I mean, Daphne asked me but so did Astoria.” Harry laughed whole-heartedly, putting a hand on his chest in relief. “It makes it kind of awkward too since they’re sisters. I don’t like playing people like that.”

You glanced down at your feet, twiddling with your fingers. “Um, how about the night of the ball, I ask my parents if I can sleep over at Daphne’s, but instead I come find you somewhere?”

“They’ll cover for you?”

You nodded at his question, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

“In that case, come over. You can change into something more comfortable at mine, and mum and dad would love to have you.”

“It’ll be late though.”

“It’s fine, they’ll probably be up with my uncles anyway.”

You nodded, a smile blossoming on your face. Your heart began racing at the rebellious plan.

“It’s a date then.”

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