#MLM Diary

[malereadermaniac]

(;¬_¬) Boyfriend Experience - Rodrick x Male reader

Word Count: 1k

Plot: Long-form(ish) headcannons for dating Rodrick; from the start of it to the smut of it

Featuring: Top!Rodrick x Bottom!Reader

Warnings: Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

The first time he really paid you any mind was at his party. As more and more people left, everyone kinda chilled out and decided on playing a big game of spin the bottle with a dare twist. As the only openly gay guy out of the many players, of course, your dare had something to do with a guy; drunk young adults are constantly horny, so makes sense. Rodrick really took notice of you when you were made to sit on his lap for the (long) remainder of the game; and as to avoid any awkwardness, you two made quite a bit of conversation as other people kept doing dares. And after only really talking for half an hour, when the bottle landed on Rodrick, the two of you were dared to kiss - which you did do. And you both enjoyed it.

Rodrick started to crush on you after that party, he'd already debated whether or not he was straight, that experience with you just confirmed it for him really. You also started to crush on the man, who wouldn't though? He's a pretty hot guy and in a band as the drummer! Smash. However, a problem that arose very quickly into the talking stage was that Rodrick did NOT KNOW HOW TO FLIRT. It's not exactly that he didn't have the confidence to try, Rodrick was more than happy to make many moves on you, they were all just a little awkward or corny - but you couldn't help but find that shit cute. The rocker would always walk you to classes and act as if your class was on his way, even though he wasn't even in your building. And when you'd ask him about it, Rodrick would take the opportunity to more blatantly flirt, but whatever words would come out of his mouth would always make you laugh rather than blush... "I go outta my way for ya 'cause a face like that is worth a thousand words~" "Haha... that doesn't even make sense" Rodrick's flirting did seriously improve after the two of you started dating; or maybe you're just seeing it through rose-coloured glasses. The man's flirts are still dorky or stupid but they tend to make more sense now; plus, Rodrick prefers to show his affection via physical touch anyway. You two will be at a party and your emo-of-a-boyfriend will already be hugging onto your waist and pulling you onto his lap; his arms snug around your waist, with either his head resting on your shoulder or your arms around his neck 'for balance'.

Rodrick's ego gets a ridiculous boost whenever you come over and watch his band practice, getting very excited on the inside but never letting it show (or at least he thinks he isn't letting it show...). But you don't complain, you have to admit that watching your boyfriend go ham on some drums while looking all cool and hot wasn't something you hated. It also makes your heart skip a beat when the drummer glimpses up at you as he beats the shit out of his drums, sneaking in a wink and a smirk, then going back to whatever loud-ass song he was playing.

Contrary to popular belief, Rodrick is not some sex-god! Bro was a virgin before you! Sure, his confidence did fool quite a few people (you included), but confidence alone doesn't necessarily mean you pull... In fact, your boyfriend was such a virgin, that he had to wikiHow tips on sex in the lead-up to asking you to fuck! That being said though, after the first couple of nights together, where you mostly had to teach your boyfriend the ropes and be patient, Rodrick really got the hang of it! Like, really well, too well! His love for physical touch crosses over into intimate moments between you two, so expect many kisses along your body, fingers gliding over your skin, soft bites, and a tight hold on your waist, hips or thigh. Oh and once Rodrick really gained some confidence when having sex with you? That's when your boyfriend became a fucking man, talking you through it like a pro; praising you, holding your leg up onto his built shoulder as he slowly thrusts into you, lowly singing you praises and chanting your name through his panting - holy shit this man knows how to get you off!

It's quite funny that Rodrick's mum really likes you. She finds that you're his only friend who's a good influence, meaning that Rodrick can do whatever he wants as long as he mentions you being there! You're also the only friend allowed to sleep 'round his; that being hilarious 'cause you're the only friend which Rodrick is fucking every other night. You're boyfriend's mum is blissfully unaware of you and her son doing ungodly things under her roof, and it's kind of a turn-on for the both of you... Rodrick will be fingering you whilst shouting a 'goodnight' to his parents like it's nothing! Turning back around to you and giving you a small smirk and a 'shush', 'cause you wouldn't want his parents to hear you? Would you? You wouldn't want them to know how loose Rodrick gets you, you wouldn't want them to hear your hole making phallic sound of squelching, or to hear your pants and moans of their son's name. But that goes both ways! Rodrick would die if his parents heard his moaning and groaning of your name if they saw his dishevelled look as his fingers curled into your hair whilst you sucked his dick ever so nicely.

Cute little bonus: Rodrick gets suuuuuper jealous but doesn't know how to really express that... Which usually just leads to the man being a little emo in public and trying to show off! Emphasising the tiny height difference between you two by resting his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist, and even flexing his muscles; Rodrick pulls out all the stops to show off, in aims to get any small compliment from you so that he'll feel less jealous and inferior. In private though, his jealousy does come out a little more, your boyfriend becoming a soppy mess about some guy flirting with you; but don't worry, Rodrick's jealousy turns into horniness real quick!

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[mediademon]

Paul Mescal & Andrew Scott in All of Us Strangers (2023)

[lalalychee-x]

"College boy." Rodrick Heffley x male!reader

THIS IS AN ABSOLUTELY GOATED request from 🌾🍞 anon!! I'M SORRY, ITS LATE!! Hope you enjoy though and feel free to give feedback!! Mwaaaaa asks always open guys, I love them!

cw: period-typical attitudes to being gay (not homophobia though), male/amab reader, older/college reader (21), kinda-rough making out, Rodrick in last year of highschool, so he's 18.

★ You are forced to come back home, stay at least a week during college break with your family. And you knew your sister had all the guys after her, but maybe leading on a guy who definitely was a joke to her was a bit much. You're just trying to help him out. You think so, anyway... click here for part 2

If you’d told Rodrick Heffley that he was gonna end up in the kitchen of a house that probably cost more than he’d make in his entire life — with another guy’s tongue in his mouth, no less — he’d have laughed in your face.

Not that he had a problem with gay people or anything. He was cool. Chill. Open-minded, in a way only someone who’d spent most of his life in a suburban basement with an eyeliner pencil and a drum kit could be. But him? Making out with some rich guy? Yeah, no way. Wasn’t gonna happen.

Except it was happening. Kinda. He just didn’t know it yet.

It all started when he got Heather’s number when he’d flirted with her outside the bowling alley, giggling behind their hands as they gave him the digits and told him to "swing by sometime." And he had. Of course he had. He was Rodrick Fucking Heffley. Girls loved him. Right?

So now here he was — standing on the porch of a massive house tucked into a dead-end road he didn’t even know existed until tonight. There was no answer when he rang the bell. No party. No Heather. Just silence, a pretty porch light, and a feeling that maybe, maybe, he was getting punk’d.

He was just about to leave — muttering under his breath about rich girls and their mean-girl cliques — when he heard that sleek convertible purr down the street.

You pulled up like you owned the whole goddamn block, engine shutting off with a smug little hum. You stepped out slow — lazy, bored — dressed in a leather jacket and black jeans that fit too well, rings on your fingers, hair still pushed back from your day, face unreadable.

Rodrick blinked.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just stood there on the sidewalk, one brow raised, keys jingling in your palm as you looked him over with the kind of stare that made his flannel and band tee feel suddenly...lame.

There was a second where you just stared at each other. He looked a bit like a washed up rat, sad, pouty and definitely trying to hide it. Then the guy let out a small scoff.

“You lost or something?”

Rodrick swallowed. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then shrugged, trying to sound like he totally had his shit together.

“I’m here to see Heather.”

The guy’s brows lifted slightly more. It was you, and you're honestly not going to let... what seemed to be a creep, stand outside and look for your sister. “Heather’s not home.”

“Right, yeah.” Rodrick scratched the back of his neck, voice dipping into that awkward fake-confident tone he always used when he felt like he was two seconds from being told to scram. “She invited me.”

A pause.

You gave him a look — something unreadable, amused maybe, maybe not — before stepping forward and sliding your keys into your back pocket.

“You’re Rodrick, huh.”

It wasn’t a question.

Rodrick stiffened. “…Yeah?”

You sighed like this was the most exhausting development in his week, then jerked his head toward the door. “C’mon. I’m not lettin’ you stand there like a creep all night.”

“What?”

You tipped your head, deadpan. “You’re just standing there. Staring at the door. Like a creep.”

“I’m not a creep, okay?” Rodrick shot back, bristling. “I’m here to see Heather.”

You gave a sharp little laugh under your breath — cold and amused.

“Right. Heather.”

Rodrick squinted, arms up in almost defence. “Wait. Who the fuck are you?”

You looked him dead in the eyes. "Her brother."

Rodrick's mouth opened. Closed. “…No the hell you're not.”

“Yeah. I fuckin’ am, hate this damn house so I barely come back from college,” you said, stepping past him like you lived there — because, well, you did. “And yeah, Heather’s a bitch. But you? You look like a fuckin’ Craigslist serial killer standing on my porch.”

Rodrick bristled again, like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or impressed. “Dude. I’m just—”

“I know who you are, Rodrick,” you cut in, unlocking the front door. “She told me. Didn't expect you to be real, honestly.”

You pushed the door open and stared at him for a second too long. There was something sharp in your eyes. Not hostile. Just…assessing.

He wasn’t her type. Not even close. But something about the slouch, the messy eyeliner, the smug little grin trying to mask the awkward twitch at the corner of his mouth — it kinda was your type. Not that you were gonna admit that out loud.

You stepped aside, voice dry. “Well? You comin’ in or what?”

Rodrick swallowed and stepped past you, suddenly hyperaware of how much taller (even if not literally) you felt. How nice you smelled. How warm it was inside.

“…This is the weirdest fuckin’ day of my life.”

You just shut the door behind him with a little shrug. “Get used to it.”

You didn’t say anything else — just brushed past him, your shoulder knocking lightly against his as you headed down the hallway like you owned the place. Which, yeah, you did. Rodrick barely had time to adjust to how nice the fuckin’ hallway smelled before you were already halfway to the kitchen.

He followed, awkward and out of place, eyes darting to the high ceilings, the family photos, the spotless hardwood floors. The house looked like it came out of a magazine. He felt like he tracked in dirt just by existing.

You pointed at the dining table as you walked into the kitchen. “Wait in here.”

Rodrick paused in the doorway. “What am I, a dog?”

You didn’t even turn around. “I mean, you showed up uninvited and you look like you bite 'nd have rabies.”

He opened his mouth, ready with a half-assed comeback, but you were already at the fridge, grabbing a can of something cold and cracking it open without looking his way.

Rodrick lingered for a beat before making a decision. Slowly — maybe a little stubbornly — he pushed off the doorframe and leaned against the kitchen counter instead, folding his arms across his chest, doing that thing where he stared at the floor like he wasn’t affected by anything at all.

You turned slightly, side-eyeing him with an amused little smirk.

“Didn’t I tell you to wait at the table?”

Rodrick didn’t budge. “Yeah. And I didn’t.”

Your lips twitched.

Huh.

He really was that kind of kid. All bark, too much eyeliner, and barely enough spine to hold up the act — but he was trying. You could tell from the way his jaw flexed, how he refused to look at you, as if meeting your eyes would confirm something neither of you were ready to admit.

You took a slow sip of your drink, leaning against the opposite counter, just watching him.

“This how you usually get into people’s houses?” you asked, voice lazy, teasing. “Show up lookin’ like you rolled out of a Hot Topic clearance bin and challenge the older brother to a pissing match?”

Rodrick’s ears flushed red. “Didn’t know you’d be home.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding once. “You look disappointed.”

“I’m not.”

That smirk turned into a grin. “Sure.”

You let the silence stretch for a second, your gaze dropping to the edge of his jaw, the way he clenched his fists a little tighter when he felt you looking.

He was cocky. Slouchy. Barely legal and probably running on Monster and the fumes of delusion.

But shit — cute.

And way more fun to mess with than Heather's last boyfriend. Not that you believed he was Heather's boyfriend at all because NO WAY.

You tilted the can back and let the last of the drink slurp loudly, obnoxiously, like you were doing it on purpose. Rodrick flinched at the sound.

Then you turned, casually tossing the empty into the recycling bin like you’d done it a hundred times (you had), and cracked open the cooler on the floor beside the counter. The soft hiss of ice shifting echoed as you rummaged through it, then pulled out something in a blue-and-silver can — cold and probably cheap. Smirnoff Ice. A college classic. Trashy, sugary, everywhere.

You straightened up and glanced at Rodrick.

“You eighteen?”

Rodrick blinked. “Uh—yeah.”

“You drink?”

He froze for half a second — just half — but it was enough.

You snorted, laughing as you popped the tab on your can. “Yeah, okay. That’s a no.”

He huffed, defensive. “Didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You crouched again, this time deeper in the cooler, your hand pushing past bottles of water and chilled energy drinks until you found a can of orange soda and stood, tossing it across the kitchen.

“Catch.”

Rodrick’s eyes widened — he caught it, barely, fumbling for a second like it might’ve hit the floor and shattered his already-fragile pride. He cleared his throat and turned the can in his hands like it offended him.

You watched him with lazy amusement, sipping your drink, leaning one hip against the counter again. “You’re lucky. If you dropped it, I would’ve kicked you out.”

Rodrick scoffed. “No, you wouldn’t’ve.”

“Try me.”

The kitchen was quiet again, save for the fizz in your drink and the hum of the fridge.

Rodrick cracked the soda open, took a slow sip, and stared at you over the rim. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes did — a flicker, a shift. He was trying to place it. The way you talked, the way you stood. How old were you?

You let the moment linger before you said it.

“Twenty-one.”

Rodrick blinked, straightening a little.

“Just turned. Last month,” you added, tapping the top of your can. “Heather threw a fit ‘cause I wouldn’t let her come to the bar, y'know? Gotta tell her to stop whoring it.”

Rodrick flinched, taking another tentative sip.

You looked at him again, head tilted slightly. “That what you were thinkin’? How old I was?”

Rodrick choked on his soda a little. “What? No.”

You grinned into your drink. “Sure.”

Rodrick lingered near the kitchen counter, pretending like he wasn’t eyeballing everything in the room. The granite countertops, the fancy-ass stove that probably cost more than his van, the wine rack built into the wall. Who the hell lived like this?

You noticed him looking.

“Don’t steal anything,” you said, lazily sipping your drink.

“I wasn’t gonna.”

“Sure. You got that feral look. That ‘I eat cigarettes for breakfast’ vibe.”

Rodrick rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t drink Smirnoff Ice. What are you, a freshman girl at her first frat party?”

You barked a laugh, full and sharp. “That’s cute coming from the guy holding a Fanta like it’s a beer. You want a paper straw too, princess?”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Only when my mouth’s full.”

Rodrick froze for a second. Your grin widened. He looked like a raccoon caught chewing drywall.

You leaned back against the counter again, arms crossed, casually sipping your drink like that hadn’t just slipped out on purpose. The tension in the room shifted — still playful, but tight, electric.

Rodrick huffed and looked away, muttering, “God, Heather’s whole family’s insane.”

You cocked a brow. “And yet you showed up.”

“Yeah, well—” He paused. “Thought she gave me her number.”

You smiled, slow and dangerous, and started walking toward him — not threatening, but steady. You placed your drink down on the counter and kept moving, until Rodrick backed up just slightly, hips bumping into the edge.

“You really believe she gave you her number?” you asked, both hands coming up to rest on either side of him, boxing him in. Not touching — yet. But close. Close enough to watch him squirm.

Rodrick faltered. His voice dropped a little. “...Well. I mean. Not anymore.”

You laughed again, warm and low. “Poor thing. Got punked by a couple of high school girls.”

He rolled his eyes and looked off to the side, trying not to look at you. “Whatever.”

You tilted your head, eyes flicking over him. “So what? You into her? That your type? Bitchy blondes who call you names and pretend you don’t exist in public?”

Rodrick scowled, brows furrowed and squinting. “Says the guy who is related to her.”

“Touché.”

There was a pause. Then—

“If it doesn’t work out with her,” you paused, “you could always get with me instead.”

Rodrick choked on nothing.

“I—What?! Dude, I’m not— I’m not gay.”

Your eyes glittered. “Didn’t say you were.”

He floundered. “I mean—not that there’s anything wrong with—whatever—but I’m not—”

“Relax, man.” You chuckled, real low and easy, tilting your head a little closer. “No one’s asking you to get on your knees.”

He swallowed. You could see the flush creeping up his neck, fighting the smirk he was trying not to let show.

You leaned in just a little more.

“...Unless you want to.”

Rodrick made a quiet noise in his throat — something between a scoff and a nervous cough — and set the Fanta can down behind him on the counter. Not because he was finished, but because he needed an excuse to look anywhere but at you. The fizz hissed faintly as it settled.

He scratched the back of his neck. “You’re messing with me.”

You smiled, real slow. “Am I?”

“You gotta be,” he muttered, eyes on the countertop now like it held all the secrets of the universe. “I mean. That’s what this is, right? You’re just fuckin’ with me.”

“Rodrick.”

You said his name like a joke and a promise in one breath. The way it dropped from your mouth made his stomach flip in a way he didn’t like. Or maybe he did. He wasn’t sure.

He looked up at you finally, jaw tense. “I’m not… like that.”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

“No, I mean— I’ve never—” He faltered. His hand made a vague gesture between the two of you. “This isn’t my thing.”

“But you’re still here.”

Rodrick’s mouth opened. Then closed. Like a fish. An angry fish. A flustered, horribly aware he might be into something fish.

You tilted your head, stepping in just a bit closer — still not touching, but you didn’t need to. The tension was thick enough to sink in.

“I’m just saying,” you murmured, voice low and amused, “if it doesn’t work out with Heather… you’ve got options.”

Rodrick cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh—well. I—I’m not…”

He trailed off. You waited. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, eyes flicking briefly to your mouth before he immediately looked back down at the floor like it burned him.

Then, quietly — barely audible:

“…Have you ever kissed a guy?”

You blinked. “Me?”

He nodded, sheepish. Still not looking at you. “Yeah.”

You raised a brow. “A couple times. Why?”

Rodrick didn’t answer. But he was chewing the inside of his cheek now, face pink, breath shallow. Hands shoved in his pockets like they might anchor him.

You stepped in just a fraction closer.

“…Wanna know what it’s like?”

If you’d told Rodrick Heffley that he’d lose his footing on his sexuality in the middle of a rich guy’s kitchen, with the house dead quiet and a guy’s mouth hot on his, he would’ve thrown a drink in your face.

Not because he was homophobic or anything — Jesus, no. He was punk, not a dick. It was just… him? Doing this? Never crossed his mind. Not until now. Not until you.

You were Heather’s brother. College-aged. Intimidatingly hot. Driving some sleek-ass convertible like you owned the damn moon. And now here you were, pushing him back against a cold marble counter, lips crashing into his like he was a fucking challenge.

And he liked it.

Rodrick grunted as his lower back smacked the edge of the counter, the sudden jolt making him gasp into your mouth. One of your hands slid down, rubbing over the spot gently in a rare flicker of comfort before it curled around his hip, pulling him back in.

It was messy.

Your mouth tasted like cheap spiked lemonade and something bitter. Beer, maybe. He’d never had alcohol before — not like this. Definitely not off the mouth of some guy he just met. It was a little weird. A little electric.

His hands fumbled awkwardly at first, catching the hem of your shirt, one sliding around your shoulder as if trying to find something solid to hold onto. Because he was TOO aware he looked like an idiot right now.

Your fingers found the edge of his studded belt, tugged him closer with a harsh yank that made him groan. His hips twitched. His whole body felt like it was catching fire.

He was… hard.

Embarrassingly so.

Rodrick stiffened, trying not to grind into you, but failing when your hand slipped lower to press at his back — guiding him in.

He gasped again. “Shit—fuck, uh, I didn't—”

“Relax,” you groaned actually annoyed with yourself when you should be feeling triumphant, as you kissed down to his neck, your own breath starting to hitch. “You’re not the only one.”

Rodrick's eyes widened slightly as he felt your crotch against his hip.

Oh.

Oh.

Well… shit.

You two stared at eachother a bit more until you slid your hands under his stupid band tee, both hands on his hips. You're surprised—you thought he would be a bit scrawnier. Not that he was built by any means,

Your mouth was back on his again — teeth catching his bottom lip this time, dragging until he hissed. Rodrick’s fingers clenched in your shirt, dragging you impossibly closer, hips twitching without meaning to.

“F-fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, shaky and stunned. “What the hell is this—what are we—”

You didn’t answer. Just kissed him again. Rougher. Meaner. Like you were trying to make up for every second wasted being normal around him.

“Look, do you want to do this or not?” Your hands were braced on his hips, and his belt buckle was digging into your palm. It was all metal and heat and confusion and want.

Rodrick's mouth opened, in nothing but a shakey breath.

Then— BANG BANG BANG.

A shrill, angry voice cut through the house: “HELLOOO? OPEN THE DOOR?? I FORGOT MY KEYS, WHERE'S MOM—”

You pulled back with a sigh, forehead dropping to Rodrick’s shoulder. His chest was rising and falling way too fast for how little space was between you.

He was flushed. Breathing hard. Lip red from biting. His hair was sticking up like he’d just been electrocuted and he looked fucking wrecked.

You grinned.

“Sounds like your little crush is home.”

Rodrick blinked at you, still half-dazed, lips parted. “Jesus Christ…”

You pushed off the counter slowly, casually fixing the hem of your shirt as if your dick wasn’t half-hard in your jeans and you hadn’t just kissed the guy your sister was supposed to be prank-dating.

“You comin’?” you asked, already walking down the hall.

Rodrick huffed, slamming back the last of the soda he’d left on the counter before following, muttering under his breath, “I fuckin’ hate rich people.”

And that was ironic because he was pretty well-off himself.

The door swung open and Heather practically exploded into the entryway, voice already halfway to a screech.

“Ugh, finally! I thought I was gonna get murdered out there, do you know how sketchy the suburbs are at—” She cut off mid-sentence, blinking hard. “Wait. Was that—was that fucking Heffley??”

You leaned against the doorframe, still slightly flushed, your knuckles brushing the curve of your bottom lip like you were trying to wipe away a smirk. Your eyes followed Rodrick’s retreating figure down the driveway, watching him fumble to get into his van like his legs forgot how to work.

You didn’t answer your sister. Just called out toward the driveway, voice syrup-smooth,

“Come back some time!”

Rodrick paused, mouthing what seemed suspiciously like 'fuck you' and then yanked the door shut behind him harder than necessary.

He was mumbling prayers and he barely even listened in church. I mean, he wasn't praying because he thought he had sinned or something — he was pretty sure Jesus would be fine with gay people.

No, he was praying because he was sure he just met the devil reincarnated.

Heather turned toward you slowly, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. “Seriously. Seriously? What the hell was that?!”

You shrugged like it was nothing. Like you didn’t still taste him on your tongue.

“Dunno. Might stay back for the rest of the holiday.”

Heather blinked. “You’re deranged.”

You just grinned wider.

click here for part 2

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

divider creds: @cursed-carmine

[bajablastlover1]

can we bring back yearning pls?

[put-me-on-a-hitlist]

Death and Rebirth: a My Hero Academia DR

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The soundtrack:

• I’m Still Standing - Elton John •

• ANTI-HERO - SEKAI NO OWARI •

• Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood •

• Middle Finger - Bohnes •

• Spectrum (Say My Name) - Florence + The Machine •

• Hayloft II - Mother Mother •

• Counting Stars - OneRepublic •

• Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic •

• Summertime Sadness - Lana Del Rey •

• Who Is She? - I Monster •

• My Ordinary Life - The Living Tombstone •

• WILDFLOWER - Billie Eilish •

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The one and only:

My name is Murasami Miyo, but I’m known more by my alias, Taiyō. I am a sixteen year old transman (he/they). I am a member of the League of Villains and eventually a commander of the Paranormal Liberation Front. Though I align myself with villain organizations, I identify more with the label Anti-Hero and refuse to partake in missions that go against my morals. I am often seen stepping in and helping heroes, having no qualms for which side they’re on, and only that I am doing what I think is right.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The backstory - overview:

Born to a father whose only concern was power and money. Before I was even born, I was arranged to marry my father’s close friend’s son, Touya. The two of us and my best friend Keigo were all placed into a special program called the Heroic Prodigy Program at a young age where we became inseparable. It was run by the Hero Public Safety Commission. I would spend my weeks with them and my weekends at the Todoroki household being prepared to be a wife. Years passed mostly uneventful before my family tragically died in a villain attack when I was ten. Then two years later, I was kidnapped by a quirk testing and development team. I later find out the whole thing had been orchestrated Enji to get rid of me out of fear that I would turn on him. I spent three years in a laboratory where they tested the human bodies ability to hold multiple quirks. I was a freak of nature and had been given 25+ quirks before I finally escaped while all their other subjects could hardly handle three. Upon escaping, I was lost and had no one to turn to. Touya was dead and Keigo was no where to be found and assumably dead as well. But then someone found me, and took me under his wing. The stranger, Tashima, gave me a roof, food, clothes, and cared for me when no one else did. I soon find out that Keigo was alive, but was now a hero. I knew I couldn’t return to him because the commission would not only kill me, but kill him. So instead I turned to the underground and made connections under a new name, Taiyō. I tried to live my life, but no matter how hard I tried, my eyes were always watching “Hawks”.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The quirks:

With so many quirks, it’s hard to keep track of each one. Many blur into a singular quirk, others I don’t even know about. Here are the ones I do:

Fuse - my original quirk. It allows the user to turn anything into a bomb that will go off in a specific amount of time set by the user. A fuse is marked by a little animated flame. The bigger the object, the bigger the explosion, and the more stamina needed. Multiple fuses can be created at once but they will all explode at the same time. Downsides is fatigue from the draining of stamina.

Decay - originally my brother’s quirk but it was stolen from him before it was ever given the chance to appear so he was assumed quirkless. It allows the user to decay anything and when trained, it can extend to objects the user is not even touching. Overuse causes dry skin. (Yes it’s the same as Tomura’s. There is lore behind this that I will get into in another post)

Transfer - a quirk gained in the labs. This quirk allows the users to transfer a quirk between two people for a set amount of time. After that time is over, it switches back to the previous owner. However, there are two possible loopholes to make the transfer permanent. If the original owner of the quirk is killed while the quirk is with somebody else, the quirk will remain with the new person. The second loophole happens when the user transfers Transfer itself to somebody else after transferring another quirk. When this happens, the quirk remains with the new person, even after Transfer is given back to the original owner. Transfers take energy from the user and overuse can cause extreme exhaustion.

Lifeline - a quirk gained in the labs. This quirk is activated when the user is dying. It pauses all bodily functions and puts the user in an unconscious state. Almost like they’re frozen in time. The effect lasts two hours and in this time, surgery can be performed to attempt to save the user. Once the effect is over, the body starts functioning again as if no time had passed and the user has no recollection of what has happened.

Glitch - a quirk gained in the labs. It allows the user to take control over a persons nervous system and other bodily functions (such as urinary, respiratory, etc.) and “glitch” things and people similar to Mirio’s permeation. This quirk is extremely powerful but has extreme disadvantages. Using the quirk causes extreme pain to both the user and the person the user is using it on. Overuse can lead to differing levels of “glitching” which can range from their appearance seeming laggy (think Vanellope from Wreck-It Ralph) to falling through things. “Glitches” are painful and the pain cannot be avoided.

Blur - a quirk gained in the labs. This quirk allows the user to make themselves and others unrecognizable without changing their appearances. This is only bypassed if someone is looking at them specifically and asking if they are them. Blur takes mental strain and stamina to maintain. The more people, the harder it is but the only limit is themselves and their capabilities.

Venom - a quirk gained in the labs. This quirk allows the user to consume and store any venom, poison, toxin, etc. in their body and store it until they are ready to eject it. It can be ejected through the fangs that accompany the quirk or through the skin. Though the effects of the substances are dulled, they are still there and taking too much at once can be deadly. The user can train to hold more but it takes practice, patience and a strong will for the side effects.

Teleportation - a quirk gained in the labs. This quirk allows the user to instantly teleport to anywhere they can see with their naked eyes. There are no limits to how many times or how consecutively it can be used. The downside is it will take the same amount of energy and stamina as if they had walked the same distance. (Teleporting one mile would have the same effects as walking one mile physical wise)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The family:

Sperm donor

Murasami Kazuya is a liar, abuser, and manipulator. Murasami is not even his true family name, Shimura is. Kazuya turned bitter and ditched the name after his mother, Nana, ditched him and his brother when they were kids. Fuck this guy.

Mother

Murasami Mai, once known as Mai Beausoleil, is a deer and angel in disguise, the eighth wielder of All for All, and renowned vigilante Spirit. After fleeing France when she was fourteen, she met and fell in love with the beautiful Himura Rei. However, she was forced into a marriage with Kazuya and birthed four children, all of which were her light in her darkest times.

Brother

Yagi Shikoko, formerly known as Murasami Taeko, is the nineth wielder of All for All, and was a known vigilante called Ghost but has since hung up the title and joined the hero course at U.A. Growing up, he was at the brunt of Kazuya’s abuse and peculiar obsession. He was the true original owner of Decay which was stolen from him in childhood, leading to him being assumed quirkless. However, he received a new quirk passed down to him from Mai in her final moments. Since then he has dedicated his every breath to helping the world and trying to change the system he knew was rotted.

Sibling

Murasami Yōko is a pillar. Not even a Murasami by blood, she is the oldest child of Mai. They had been cast aside by Kazuya, seen as unimportant since they were not his. She took care of their siblings and became something they all could rely on. After being forced to ditch their old life following the villain attack her and her family “supposedly” died in, she began to blossom into a wonderful and fun person.

Sister

Murasami Miaka is the lucky one. She had been too young when the attack that forced the Murasami children to fake their deaths to remember anything about before. She is the youngest of the family and is spoiled by her two older siblings.

Cousin

Shigaraki Tomura, true and forgotten name Shimura Tenko, is a force. Once a quirkless child was cursed with a copy of his cousins quirk Decay. At age five, he slaughtered his entire family and was picked up by All for One. He forgot his name, forgot his family, forgot his story, and forgot himself. He is a groomed child deceived into thinking he is blessed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The Lovers:

The Boy of Flames

Todoroki Touya, the eldest son of Todoroki Enji. He cannot be stopped and he burns of hatred and guilt. After his tragic “death” at age fourteen, he took on the name Dabi and steamed down the path of destruction. Revenge is all he’s after.

The Boy of Feathers

Takami Keigo, known as Hawks: The Winged Hero. He cannot be slowed and runs on a shattered heart. Debuting on his fifteenth birthday, days after losing his remaining best friend, he soon soared in the charts. The past is all he’s after.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The future - an overview:

Floating through the days and stuck in the past, I never expected to have things change so suddenly. Meeting Dabi felt like waking up. Being given a reason to reach out to Keigo again was like being plunged into cold water. Running into my thought to be dead father was like being pushed off the edge of a cliff overlooking nothing. Finding my brother alive and well was like the rain finally letting up. Learning Dabi’s true identity was like my heart finally starting to beat again after years of dormancy.

My life had been renewed and given a purpose again. No longer did I need to simply sit back and watch. No longer just waiting for Keigo to need me. No longer would I put off the change I knew the world needed. No longer was I a dead man in a living man’s body.

When spring came, the snowball kept rolling. March was the month in which I laid myself out to the world. March was the month in which me and Touya’s stories were used as means of victory. March was the month in which Keigo and our families learned the truth. March was the month in which my cousin woke, no longer himself. March was the start of the war. April was the month in which we started planning our resistance. April was the month in which we became fathers. April was the month in which I was forced to fight my blood and my past. April was the month in which we risked it all, and won it all. April was the month in which we saved society, the world, and most importantly, ourselves.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[fruitybf]

wake me up with kisses and i'm yours forever

mlm / nblm only

[monrohoes]

sam monroe x rodrick heffley | dr1vrs on tiktok

[malereadermaniac]

૮ • ﻌ - ა Exploring ~ Rodrick Heffley x Male Reader

Word Count: 610

Plot: Getting it on with the local emo

Featuring: Top!Rodrick x Bottom!Reader

Warnings: Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Imagine weekly make-outs with Rodrick

Him coming over to your house to "do homework" and instead spending the whole Saturday with you in his lap, his tongue playing with yours as his hands rest on your hips

The two of you aren't dating or anything! You're just... exploring your sexualities - it's perfectly natural as 18/19 year olds!

Kissing slowly becoming not enough to satiate the carnal desires Rodrick feels for you, soft grinding starting to come adjacent to the many hour-long, weekly makeout sessions

The rocker just can't get enough of the sounds you make as he rubs his hard dick against yours through his jeans. And you fucking love the low grunts Rodrick makes in your mouth as he kisses you or in your ear, along with a sexy groan of your name

Eventually, the two of you decided to take your sexual affairs to a new level - your parents had left you the house for two days and Rodrick's dick had hardened almost immediately when he found out

Your poor bed could barely fit the two of you, but you made it work

Rodrick above you, his muscles on full display as he slowly fucked into you turned you on to the max - he promised to go slow and he did, but mainly because he didn't want to cum in 5 seconds!

Your moans are what pushed the rocker over the edge. Your sweet and sexy sounds, along with your tight, warm walls, made the man shoot his load instantly

And from the way Rodrick panted and moaned above you, to the way he held onto your waist his his sexy, masculine, nail-painted and ring-adorned hands, Jesus Christ you came right away!

Over time, the two of you became more experienced; sex would last longer than the 15 minutes it took your first time, and you would both go for multiple rounds

You found out that Rodrick loves to have you suck his dick, look down at you as you cry from how huge his cock is, his pubes stuffing your nose as he softly caresses your cheek

The rocker had also become a huge fan of eating you out after you taught him exactly how you like it, the man can't get enough of you! And the man has tricks too! He fingers your prostate to high heaven while eating you out and makes you cum within seconds!

All that to say that Rodrick's shape had pretty much indented into not only your ass but your bed - your parents were convinced that you two were dating from how often the man slept at yours!

But that doesn't mean you two don't mess about at Rodrick's house as well!

His Christian parents just make it a little harder to do so, that's why you pretend to be a part of his band

His parents don't know that Rodrick and you do it in his van every Sunday (lol)

Loud rock music playing from a radio to drown out the pornographic sounds that might escape the violently rocking van

It's safe to say the two of you have become addicted to one another; from your scents to your bodies to your voices, you fucking love all of Rodrick and he fucking loves all of you

So it wasn't much of a shocker when Rodrick randomly asked you to be his boyfriend one day, dick balls deep inside of you

You short-circuited and blue-balled him as punishment for making such a special moment so gross!

But later that day, you two made up and out, the night finishing with your typical make-out sesh and as boyfriend and boyfriend!

[tardigrade-skeb]

could you draw ranpoe at the library?💕

I love Ranpoe, they are my everything

They’re boyfriends btw I’m Asagiri, I can confirm

[s1lentkiss]

in case you didn’t know, Samrick is a thing

[lalalychee-x]

"College boy." Rodrick Heffley x male!reader pt 2

THIS IS AN ABSOLUTELY GOATED request for part 2 from 🌾🍞 anon, who asked for a part 2 and I'm flattered!! I'M SORRY, ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE YOU REQUESTED A PART 2, I HAVE EXAMS AAAAA- Hope you enjoy this part too (they get freaky)...!! Mwaaaaa asks always open guys, I love them!

cw: period-typical attitudes to being gay (not homophobia though), male/amab reader, older/college reader (21), Rodrick in last year of highschool, so he's 18, awkward first-time blowjobs, rude/crude teenage boy humour

★ It's been a while since Rodrick tripped over his sexuality, thinking of you so badly he actually couldn't escape a speeding ticket when driving his van. So now he actually has to walk home and he hates it. Even worse when a certain convertible pulls up and he REALLY doesn't want to decline a free ride... click here for part 1

Rodrick needed to back-track this all. Okay, he'll admit, he WAS thinking about it. Thinking about it all day, all week.

It all started when he got Heather's number when he flirted with her outside the bowling alley, and told him to "swing by sometime." And he had. Of course he had. He was Rodrick Fucking Heffley, who got punked by a group of highschool girls.

So how the hell did he end up slammed against a granite countertop, gripping a stranger's expensive shirt while their tongue was halfway down his throat?

Well, turns out Heather's older brother wasn't just some preppy dude with a nice car. He was hot. Older, confident, smug as hell — the kind of guy who looked at Rodrick like he was a stray dog he was about to either adopt or put in his lap just to see what would happen.

And Rodrick let it happen.

No one knew. He hadn't talked about it. Who would he even tell? Rodrick hadn't even looked him in the eye the next time he came around to pick Heather up — just stayed silent, face hot, like he was afraid his dick was gonna remember what happened if he said more than a sentence.

Now it's been a couple weeks.

And today, Rodrick was trying so hard to look cool.

He was waiting out front of the school with his bandmates, sprawled across the sidewalk like they owned the place, cracking jokes and pretending they weren't all probably failing. Rodrick had his jacket off his shoulders like it was a cape. Fingerless gloves, shirt unbuttoned just enough to say yeah, 'I know I'm hot,' eyeliner smudged on purpose.

It was a whole look. And you were eating it up.

Heather was taking forever. Probably reapplying lip gloss or bullying freshmen or whatever she did.

His friends were trickling off, getting picked up or peeling away on their sad little skateboards one by one. Rodrick stayed put, tapping his boot against the pavement, adjusting his chain wallet, glancing at his phone for no reason. Just vibing.

And then?

Then he heard it.

A car horn — short, sharp, and obnoxious — ripped through the air like a slap across the face.

Rodrick's head snapped up.

He finally noticed you.

Window down. Arm draped out the side, knuckles loose on the wheel. Designer sunglasses. Lip between your teeth, chewing gum slow and deliberately like you were in a goddamn commercial. The engine purred like a threat. You looked like sin on legs and a fat inheritance.

And you were looking right at him.

Rodrick froze like he'd just been caught with his pants down.

Because in a way, he had. And after what happened last time? He doesn't want to imagine having his pants down, because... well, that's obvious.

The car didn't roll past. It lingered. Engine purring low AGAIN like it was laughing at him.

Rodrick squinted against the sun, already feeling the heat crawl up his neck. He didn't move. He could've walked away, sure. Pretended he didn't see you. Kept his pride and maybe a shred of sanity.

But he didn't.

Instead, he stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw clenched like he was trying to win a fight he didn't even know he was in yet.

The convertible idled in front of him, all sleek lines and ego. Then came the voice.

"Hey, loser."

You were leaned out the window, sunglasses low on your nose, gum clicking against your teeth. That grin on your face? It was unholy. Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Rodrick rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw the moment you kissed him play out in the back of his skull. "Real original," he muttered, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Aw, don't pout." You stretched your arm a little farther out the window, flexing your fingers mockingly. "I figured you'd be flattered I remembered you."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not." He puffed up a little, angling his shoulder like he wanted to block your view but couldn't stop himself from inching closer to the car. "What're you even doing here?"

You popped your gum. Loud. "Picking up my bitchy little sister. What else?"

Rodrick blinked. "Heather?"

"Duh."

His brows knit together, mouth twitching like he couldn't decide between confusion or sarcasm. "She left like... fifteen minutes ago."

You tilted your head, mock confusion on your face.

"Did she now?"

You slammed your palm hard against the outside of the door with a thunk, arm still draped lazily out the window, wrist dangling like you owned the whole damn parking lot. The car jumped slightly under your force, and Rodrick actually flinched.

You didn't smile, cursing obnoxiously loud, "That bitch."

For a second, his face was all wide eyes and instinct, like a feral cat cornered behind a dumpster.

Then he burst out laughing.

Not just a chuckle—a full, mocking cackle that cracked out of his chest like he was watching a soap opera and you were the main character having a meltdown. "Holy shit," he snorted, "You look like a pissy brat. Relax, man."

You narrowed your eyes. "Shut the hell up."

Rodrick took a step forward, one arm just above the driver's window, leaning in casually and milking this new authority—like he'd won something. "Touchy, huh? Thought you were all grown up—"

"Touchy?" you cut him off sharply, voice low now, almost a growl. "You wanna talk about touchy? Last time I recall you're the kid—a kid with a raging boner."

The laugh caught in his throat.

Rodrick's mouth opened, then closed. Like maybe if he stared at you long enough, you'd take it back. His ears turned a distinct, traitorous red.

You popped your gum again, the sound sharp as a slap, and let your arm hang loose again like you weren't even phased. You stared into his face, his more rigid posture and his fist against your car. You weren't phased, god no, you saw pathetic, barely legal teens running their mouths all the time. But this time, you wanted that mouth on something else—eyeliner, cracked lips and smudged makeup all.

Rodrick, however, looked like someone had just unplugged his amp mid-set.

"Well?" You grin, eyes flicking from his face down to his studded belt then back up again, "You better run home, buddy. Before your mommy tells y' off or something?"

Rodrick didn't move.

His hand curled into a loose fist against the top of your car door, knuckles pale like he was using it to stay grounded. His eyes flicked down to the tires, then your rims, then back to your face. He was quiet for a second too long, and that silence said everything.

You raised an eyebrow. "What, cat got your tongue?"

"No," he muttered, voice tighter now, jaw clenched like he'd just bit down on glass. "Just thinkin'."

You leaned your cheek into your shoulder, blinking at him real slow. "Let me guess. Van trouble?"

Rodrick's eyes narrowed.

You huffed a little laugh, shifting in your seat. "Right. You've been walking, haven't you? What happened, Daddy find out you drive like a bat outta hell?"

He didn't respond, just gave you a glare that tried to be threatening but only made you smirk harder.

You dragged your tongue across your teeth and clicked your gum again. "I'll give you a ride."

Rodrick perked up ever so slightly, but you held up a hand like a cop issuing a citation.

"Backseat."

His face dropped.

"What?"

You popped the car door lock with a little click, lazily jabbing your thumb over your shoulder. "You heard me. You wanna get driven, you sit in the back. Can't have you near the stereo, you might get ideas."

"Are you serious?" His voice cracked with disbelief and something dangerously close to a whine.

You smiled now, mean and slow. "Dead serious."

Rodrick looked at the door, then at you, jaw working like he was chewing rocks. "You treat me like a fuckin' dog, man."

You shrugged. "Nah. I like dogs."

He muttered something under his breath—definitely a curse, probably directed at you—but he opened the back door anyway, dragging his feet like he was being escorted to a prison van.

You watched him slump into the seat through the rearview mirror. "Good boy."

Rodrick flipped you off immediately, middle finger directed at you through the mirror, leanign against the window like a little shit.

You didn't start the car.

Instead, you leaned forward, grabbing a fresh piece of gum from the center console, slow and deliberate like you were on a break instead of chauffeuring some crusty eyeliner gremlin with control issues. You unwrapped it with a flick of your wrist, popped it in your mouth, and started chewing again, slow like molasses.

Rodrick squinted at you through the rearview mirror. "Dude. What are you—?"

You turned, not your whole body, just your head, resting your elbow on the wheel like you had all the time in the world. "You want some?"

He looked at the pack, then at you, suspicious. "Is that the weed kind?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, princess. I wouldn't waste the good shit on you. Pink lemonade. Super innocent. Calm down."

Rodrick gave a little scoff but didn't move.

"Suit yourself," you said with a hum, stretching just enough to spit the old gum into a tissue and stuff it into the door pocket. "More for me."

A pause.

"Just drive," Rodrick gritted, leaning his forehead against the glass like he was trying to escape by osmosis or something.

You made a soft noise of protest, exaggerated and bratty. "Can't. Finishing my gum. Can't you see? My mouth's busy."

Rodrick groaned, leaning back again, both hands in his hair now.

You caught his eye in the mirror, that same mirror where he'd glared at you, flipped you off, bit back a dozen smartass retorts. And now?

Now his gaze was stuck. Jaw clenched. Thighs spread just a little too wide.

Your smirk curved wider, and you tilted your head.

"Unless," you said, voice dropping slow and sticky, "you want your mouth busy too?"

Rodrick stopped breathing.

Like actually. You saw it. His chest locked up, and his eyes darted from your mouth to the back of your headrest and then down to his lap like maybe that would save him. He HAD been thinking about it all week. He was basically semi-hard for days, honestly (though he'd never admit it), too embarrassed to jack it off.

You didn't turn around. Just stayed staring into the rearview, chewing your gum, letting the quiet buzz of the car hold the moment taut.

And now Rodrick Heffley looked less like a punk and more like a problem about to beg for one himself.

"Well?"

Rodrick cleared his throat. Loud. Like maybe that'd distract from the very obvious urge 

"I'm not— gay— or into...that—," he muttered.

You raised your brows at the mirror. "Cool. Neither is gum, but you've been chewing on me with your eyes since the kitchen."

"Jesus," he groaned, pushing his palms to his face. "You don't get it."

"No, I do." You smirked and let your tongue flick against the gum once. "You're not gay. You just—what? Accidentally had your tongue down my throat? Accidentally got hard? Accidentally stood in the shower for twenty minutes thinking about it, but didn't jack off because that would make it gay?"

Rodrick flinched. You grinned. You knew.

His hands dropped to his lap again. "I didn't—fuck off, dude—"

"Aw, c'mon," you crooned, turning your head just slightly now, still leaned casually against the wheel like you had all the cards. "I'm just saying. If you're gonna moan about being straight, you might wanna stop looking like you're one lip-bite away from crawling up here and asking me to fuck you."

He scowled, flustered, but didn't deny it.

You let the silence crawl back in, slow and viscous, like syrup in the heat. Then, softly but it wasn't meant to soothe him or anything—the exact opposite actually,

"Unless that's not what you want. Maybe you don't wanna fuck. Maybe you just wanna suck."

Rodrick blinked, almost spluttering over nothing. "What the hell—"

"Not a bad option." You popped your gum again. "Start slow. Feel it out. Literally. Could be an experiment. You're in high school, right? Great time for science."

Rodrick looked like he might short-circuit. He opened his mouth. Closed it.

He's a highschooler, a dude at that too—sex and porn is meant to be funny, obnoxious and excite him. Not nervous, god why is he nervous?

Then, very softly, his gaze dropped and he muttered something that sounded like:

"...I mean—not...I dunno..."

It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't a no either. You could work with that.

You reached up and killed the engine. The quiet thud echoed loud in the space between you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, smooth and slow, then rolled your neck like you had time to kill.

Then, one hand shoved casually in your pocket, you stepped out of the car.

Rodrick straightened in the backseat, heart pounding like the drums he thought made him cool.

And you rounded the side, steps easy. Measured. Like you weren't about to absolutely ruin him, "Let's take care of that week-long boner, loser."

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Rodrick had to stop himself from backing away, cursing at first but shut up immediately. No time wasted — your fingers curled around his collar, tugging him forward until your mouths collided in a kiss so messy it knocked your teeth together. He tasted like Coke and teenage desperation, and you still tasted like that gum you'd been chewing, artificial mint and sugar, sweet and sharp on his tongue. It made his knees weak.

He leaned back against the seat, trying to match your rhythm, but he was all nerves and fidgeting hands, kissing like someone who'd had a few hot dreams and maybe tried it once behind a garage in seventh grade. Your lips moved slow, dragging over his in a way that had him chasing after the contact, heat rising up his neck. Every time your teeth scraped his lower lip, he gasped into your mouth like you'd stolen all the air from the car.

You kissed like you were used to this. Like you knew how to melt someone down to mush without even breaking a sweat. And Rodrick, poor Rodrick, who always tried so hard to look cool with his flannels and black nail polish and that stupidly smug walk, was crumbling already.

You gripped the sides of his unbuttoned flannel, easing it off his shoulders, one arm at a time, and he let you, blinking up at you like you were something holy and dangerous. Underneath, his vintage Iron Maiden tee clung to his chest, collar stretched and sleeves rolled, like he'd tried way too hard to look effortless that morning. He wasn't pulling it off now—he looked flustered, cheeks pink and lips slick, like he'd been caught in something too big for him.

He shifted, sitting up slightly, and fumbled at the button of your jeans. His fingers were trembling. He missed the catch the first time, then the second. His nails scraped your waistband. You didn't help—just watched, still half-straddling him in the cramped backseat, licking your lips like you were enjoying the show.

"Take your time," you said, slow and syrupy, practically crooning it against his jaw.

Rodrick froze. Looked up at you, eyes wild, like you'd just pulled a gun on him. His face twisted, flustered and furious, and he scoffed, "Fuck you. You're takin' the piss right now."

You laughed, quiet and rich, leaning in until your forehead bumped his. "Nah," you whispered, your lips brushing his again, so soft it made him twitch. "I just like watching you try."

His breath hitched. You kissed him again—this time slower, letting him taste the gum still on your tongue, sticky-sweet and minty. It pissed him off on how good it tasted—he made a mental note to actually take the gum next time you offered. 

Next time? God, why is he even thinking about a "next time"?

It took Rodrick a solid thirty seconds to finally undo your belt. He kept tugging at the wrong loop, too forceful, too clumsy, and you leaned your weight back on your palms, watching him like this was entertainment. Maybe it was. His brows were drawn together, lips parted in concentration. When he finally got the tongue of the belt through the buckle, he let out a breath like he'd just cracked a safe.

The zipper was easier—he tugged it down in one slow motion, the sound loud in the heated silence of the car. He paused when your cock was free, stiff and flushed, the tip already glistening. His eyes widened just a little. You didn't miss it. You never did. You've done this a few times before, but he clearly hasn't even seen porn of two dudes before.

"You're a guy too, Rodrick," you said, voice warm with amusement. "You know what feels good, right?"

He nodded, hesitant. One hand cupped you awkwardly, his fingers twitching like he wasn't sure where to start, then finally curled around your cock. His touch was cautious at first—slow pumps, like he was still testing the waters. But it only took a few strokes before he found a rhythm, the kind that made your hips jerk slightly forward into his hand.

"Mmph," you exhaled, half-laughing, half-moaning. "Damn. You're pretty good at this."

That did it—Rodrick's cheeks lit up instantly, a flush rising from his collar to the tips of his ears.

You tilted your head, grin sharp. "So how often do you jerk off to get this good at handling dick, huh?"

He choked on air—literally coughed, pulling his hand back like your cock had burned him or something. "What the fuck—?!"

You laughed outright this time, low and throaty, grabbing his wrist and guiding it back to your crotch. "Relax. I said you were good. Don't go getting all shy on me now."

Rodrick muttered something again—something that might've been fuck off or I hate you or Jesus Christ—but he was still holding you, still moving his hand, and you were still panting through your teeth, barely holding in a groan.

"Don't just use your hands," you said slowly, your voice going silkier, heavier. "Use your mouth. C'mon."

His eyes snapped to yours like you'd just pulled the emergency brake mid-highway. "What?!"

You just tilted your hips forward, cock tapping lightly against his lower lip, a bead of precum catching on the edge of his mouth. "C'mon. I've seen how you stare. Open up. I'll tell you what to do."

He was frozen. And then, so slowly it was almost comical, his lips parted, breath trembling.

"Keep your head down. Windows are glass, y'know?" you murmured, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding his head down to hollow out his mouth. "Now choke on something for real, babe."

Rodrick pulled off for a moment, panting and wet lips against your tip, brows furrowed in a weak glare, "Call me babe again, I'll bite your fucking dick off."

You huffed a laugh, "Sure, sweetheart."

And before he could snap back, you nudged his mouth open again with a firm, guiding hand on his scalp.

He went back down slower this time. Less out of hesitation—more like...curiosity. His lips wrapped around your tip, warm and tentative, and you felt the way he breathed through his nose, nostrils flaring as the weight of your cock settled onto his tongue. The taste hit him in waves—salty, bitter, heady—and his whole face twitched like he didn't know if he hated it or if he wanted more.

He tried to hide it. Tried to pretend he was indifferent. But you saw the way his lashes fluttered, the way his eyes briefly closed when you twitched in his mouth. That tiny throb of your cock against his tongue? He felt it. And it made him shift in his seat.

He was getting hard.

You caught the way his thighs pressed together. How his hips squirmed, almost guilty, like maybe if he clenched up tight enough his dick wouldn't be leaking against the inside of his jeans right now.

You groaned, low and pleased, hips barely tilting forward. "That's it. Good, fuck..."

Rodrick didn't answer. Couldn't—not with his mouth full, and your fingers tugging lightly at his hair to keep him there. But his eyes flashed up at you, defiant and pink-cheeked, watery with effort. You were thick, and he still wasn't used to it. His jaw ached, his throat was trying to suppress a gag, and yet he didn't pull off again.

You gave a shallow thrust—just enough for him to feel your cock stiffen inside his mouth.

He shuddered.

Rodrick groaned, and the sound vibrated down your length. He didn't want to answer. But his mouth stayed open. He sucked back down, slower, deeper this time, spit dragging from his chin to your base.

He liked it.

He hated that he liked it.

And you could feel the tremble in his thighs when your cock bumped the back of his throat again—could see the way he rocked ever so subtly into his seat, chasing a little friction, desperate not to make a sound.

You noted it through hazy vision, furrowing your brows to make use of it. A little surprise never hurt anyone, right?

Your hips twitched once—just once, experimentally—up into the wet heat of his mouth. And that was all it took.

Rodrick flinched with a surprised grunt, the motion nudging him deeper, forcing him to adjust and—fuck—he didn't back off. He actually followed through, the shift in pressure making your thighs tense.

"Oh—fuck..." you groaned under your breath, fingers tightening in his hair, guiding him just enough, but letting him choose to keep going.

And he did. Mouth working messily and drooling now, rhythm shaky but there, flushed red from his ears down his throat, like sucking you off was getting him off too—and it was. His own hips kept shifting like he didn't know what to do with the ache in his jeans. Because he really didn't—the closest thing he's ever been to cumming untouched was a wet dream.

You caught it just between the messy fold of his clothes —the way his hand hovered near his waistband, unsure, then gave in.

Your hand clenched against the car seat. The air felt thinner, charged, like it was vibrating around you both.

And when it hit, it hit hard. Your breath shuddered out, spine arching just a little, and Rodrick jerked at the taste, the sudden strange texture filling his mouth, but didn't pull back. Didn't flinch. He stayed right there, like he didn't know what else to do except ride it out with your cock in his mouth.

A second later, he slumped forward with a stifled gasp, forehead thudding lightly against your thigh. His mouth still damp. His belt half undone. He was breathing like he'd just sprinted a mile, and the way he clung to your leg like it was anchoring him made your lips twitch into a slow, smug smile.

His face was pink. Embarrassed and glowing all at once.

You ran a hand through his sweaty bangs, barely brushing your knuckles over the back of his neck.

"Damn," you muttered, catching your breath. "You're wayyy too good at that for a guy who's not into dudes."

Rodrick groaned into your thigh, trying to burrow and hide his face. "Shut up."

You couldn't. Not when he looked so cute— his face was a warm, flushed colour and eyeliner that began to run after sucking your cock pricked a few tears at his eyes.

You noticed the stickiness against the loosened waist of his jeans, his hips twitching in tiny, involuntary aftershocks. A huff of laughter slipped out of you before you could stop it—mean, but kind of stunned, too.

He's still catching his breath like he's fighting off the shame. You take the bait, whistling slightly as you motion to the crotch of his jeans where he'd cum, "Didn't even have to touch you, damn. Liked it that much?"

Rodrick groaned loudly, dragging the sleeves of his discarded flannel over his face like he could disappear inside them. His whole face went about as red as the knobs on your car radio, and when he didn't snap back right away—not with a joke, not with a shove, not even a middle finger—you blinked.

He was mortified. It would be too easy to push him further, but you decide to let up this time.

Your teasing tapered instantly. "Hey," you said, voice gentler now. Your fingers skimmed along his shoulder, grounding. "Hey, I'm not—"

He didn't lift his head, "Oh, fuck off."

You shifted, letting your palm settle between his shoulder blades. "Look, I'm not gonna keep going if you're freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out," His voice was still muffled into your jeans, but more steady, holding more vigour now, "Just. Shut the fuck up."

You did, scoffing and half-relieved his bite came back. "...You think your parents'll care if you stay out a few more hours? Or are you some curfew princess."

His head tilted, just slightly. "What?"

"Just asking," you shrugged, voice casual, but your thumb brushed behind his ear, playing with the fake cuff on them.

Rodrick's still reeling from the mess he just made, but he lifts his head, blinking at you. His face is a mess of emotions—still a little red but some sort of gratitude that you aren't totally making fun of him at least.

"Yeah..." he mutters, still avoiding your gaze. "They're not home for a while."

You give him a wink, rubbing your thumb on his bottom lip now—feeling the stickiness of it from whatever of your cum he couldn't swallow. Or rather, coughed back up when trying to. "I'm staying my whole break here this time. If you're up for it."

Rodrick's eyes narrow in warning and disbelief. "You really are an asshole."

You shrug, still chewing your gum and leaning back in your seat. "I'm not heartless though."

He props himself up on his elbows, cogs turning in his head. Did you mean what he thought you meant?

 "What?" You look at him, mumbling for the first time since you've met him. "I got hobbies besides being college fuckboy-trash."

Rodrick stares at you, eyes narrowed like he's trying to figure out if you're screwing with him again—but there's a twitch at the corner of his mouth, betraying the smile he's fighting. He exhales a shaky laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, well...your other hobbies better include food. I'm starving."

You reach for the keys from your back pocket, gum snapping between your teeth in a smile you pray he didn't catch. "Guess it's your lucky night, Heffley. Hope you like drive-thru food and post-nut clarity."

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

divider creds: @cursed-carmine

[thecryingminotaur]

my yearning has no limits

[honestlyihavenoideawhoiam]

[elijahstwink]

Elijah x male reader, where mayber the reader tries to take charge if you know what I mean but elijah does something that makes him practically melt into him? Maybe a sir and choking kink if you feel up to it?

Yes, Sir.

Thank you for the requests sexy anons. Had a lot of fun writing this.

Warnings

Pure smut (duh), mxm, anal sex m! receiving, major dom/sub, a sickly amount of pet names, sir kink, bottom reader/top Elijah, no use of y/n, anal fingering m! receiving, choking, thigh riding, power exchange, clothed dom/naked sub, dirty talk, size kink, tons of praise.

You exit the ensuite and step into you and your boyfriend’s shared bedroom. You’re fresh out the shower, a white towel wrapped snugly around your waist.

The room is dimly lit by the blazing fireplace, bringing warmth to the normally cold compound. It’s fully dark outside now, the street lights of New Orleans reflecting through the windows. You gasp as you notice your boyfriend sitting at the foot of the bed, wearing an immaculate navy suit and smiling at you with tired eyes.

“Come here, pretty boy.” Elijah murmurs, beckoning you with a single ringed finger. You didn’t know if he would be home tonight, he hasn't been around much recently due to a situation involving his brother Niklaus.

You oblige happily, walking towards him and standing between his legs. Elijah places a kiss to your bare stomach, looking up at you with his beautiful onyx eyes.

“Hey Eli.” You greet, running a hand through his previously gelled flat hair. He tilts into your touch, closing his eyes. He wraps one muscular arm around your frame, his free hand resting on your waist.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He gazes up at you lovingly, making you blush slightly. You love when Elijah gets soft like this, all cuddly and needy. It’s not a common occurrence, a side of him that he has admitted no one else has seen but you.

You stay like that for a while, scratching his scalp lightly while his hand slowly ventures down from your waist.

“Baby, can we just…” Elijah traces the outline of your cock under the towel, making you shiver slightly.

You’re thinking about getting on your knees and pleasuring this stunning man in front of you when an idea pops into your head. You want to be in charge for once, to dominate Elijah.

Of course you love being submissive, just like Elijah loves being dominant. You love the way he pins you under his large frame, whispering filthy praises into your ear while his thick cock drills into your squirming body, hitting every pleasurable spot inside you with every stroke. But recently you’ve been imagining different scenarios. Elijah whining as you ride him, begging you to let him cum… or just Elijah begging in general. Yeah, that’s hot.

“Beg.” You command him firmly, a striking contrast to your normal sweet, soft voice.

Elijah’s hand stills, no longer groping you through your towel. His face is still nuzzled against your belly, although his lips have stopped kissing your skin.

Without thinking twice, you stop brushing your fingers through his hair and instead grip the strands harshly, pulling his head back to look up at you. He hissed at the pain, giving you an amused look as he rests his hands behind him on the bed.

“You are acting as though you are in charge.” Elijah teases, tilting his head slightly and grinning at your annoyed face.

“I am in charge.” You mutter, crossing your arms and pouting. You then remember that pouting doesn’t seem particularly dominant so you replace it with a unbothered look. This causes Elijah to chuckle, thinking his baby looks so cute when trying to dominate him.

You are just regaining your confidence when Elijah suddenly stands up, his figure towering over you, your eyes level with his neck. You look up at him, blushing under the intensity of his lustful gaze.

“What did you want me to do sweet thing? I seem to have forgotten.” Elijah asks politely, his words dripping with amusement.

You take a deep breath, feeling your cock fatten, the towel doing nothing to conceal your arousal. “I-I want you to beg.” You say, mentally punching yourself for stuttering. This is not going how you wanted, but you can’t say you enjoy this any less.

Elijah smirks, taking a step into your space, your bodies pressed together. He looks unbothered by the situation. The hardness pressing into your lower belly however, tells a much different story. “Very well,” He replies calmly, a dangerous look in his eyes.

You gasp in surprise as Elijah grips your neck, walking you backwards until you feel the wall against your back. The cool metal of his daylight ring digs into your skin, his large hand almost wrapping completely around your throat. A wave of desire engulfs you, blood rushing to your groin as you moan, your eyes rolling back slightly. Elijah inhales sharply, admiring you as you practically melt into his hold, all signs of dominance leaving you. He’s never seen you react so intensely to something, get so turned on by something as simple as a hold on your neck.

Elijah lowers his lips to your ear, nibbling on the lobe before whispering, “Please baby, allow me to make up for the time I’ve been away?”. His free hand lowers to your towel, untucking the fabric and letting it drop to the floor. You whimper as your erection slaps wetly against your belly, red and swollen, leaking arousal from the tip. Elijah takes your prick in his hand, thumbing over your slit. You moan out as pleasure shoots up your spine, your cock completely covered by Elijah’s large fist.

“Hm?” Elijah looks at you, his hand squeezing slightly before relaxing on your neck. You’re shocked that Elijah has never choked you out before, seeing as you two are relatively kinky in bed. You can tell by the lust swimming through your boyfriends dark eyes that he’s thinking the same thing… choking will not be a one time occurrence.

“Have I left that pretty mouth speechless?” Elijah taunts, pulling you back to the present. He releases your cock and rubs his hand along your side instead, knowing the soft touch will help ground you.

“Yes. I mean no! But yes I want you to make up for lost time.” You agree to his request, so distracted by his grip on your throat. Suddenly remembering you have hands of your own, you start undoing his belt, pouting in annoyance as you fumble with the buckle. Elijah chuckles, grabbing both your wrists in his hand before tilting your head to look directly up at him.

“Yes what?” He growls. You moan, unable to understand how you possibly thought you could be dominant when Elijah is your partner. You part your lips, the words you know he wants to hear at the tip of your tongue.

“Yes, sir.” You squeak, playing into your role perfectly as you look at him with wide, innocent eyes. Elijah groans, pulling you by the neck to meet him in a messy kiss.

The kiss is rushed as teeth clash and tongues explore each other. You whine high in your throat when Elijah catches your tongue between his lips, sucking on the flesh softly and swirling his tongue along the tip, mimicking the way he pleasures your cock.

“My good boy,” Elijah murmurs against your lips as he start walking backwards, dragging you with him. “You can’t help but submit can you baby? Always trying to please me.” Elijah releases your neck and wrists as he drops down into the armchair by the fireplace. your lips detach as he tugs you into a straddling position on his thigh. You gasp as your neglected cock rubs against Elijah’s suit pants.

You waste no time, wrapping your arms around his neck and humping against his thigh. You bury your face in the space where his shoulder and neck meet, whining at the drag of fabric against your sensitive tip.

Elijah’s hands find your waist, slowing your frantic movements to long steady thrusts as you pant against the skin above his collar.

“Look at you, riding my thigh so well. You love being naked in my lap don’t you? I know you like making a mess of my suit.” Elijah coos.

He’s right. You love the dominant look of Elijah in his suit, the way he looks perfectly composed with you naked in his lap, pathetically rutting against him like a dog in heat.

“Love it, sir. Love you.” You say, although your words are muffled by Elijah’s skin, which is now covered in your spit as you’ve been practically slobbering all over him. You can feel the heat rising inside your gut, so turned on by the way Elijah effortlessly took control over you.

“I love you, little one. Such a good boy for me, yeah?” Elijah praises, releasing your hips and chuckling endearingly as you instantly speed up. He cradles the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

You release a soft ‘mhm’ at his words, your fast and uncoordinated humping slowing down as you become increasingly tired. Elijah notices this and smirks, bringing his free hand down on your ass cheek with a loud smack, keeping his hand on your reddening flesh. You yelp, your hips jerking before speeding up again as the mix of pain and pleasure rushes through your bones. Elijah’s fingers dig into your crack as he firmly grips your cheeks, and you’re certain purple finger marks will be there in the morning.

“Stop now baby,” Elijah commands softly, pulling your head back by your hair and placing a sweet kiss to your puffy lips that are glistening with spit. “Go get the lube for me”.

On shaky legs, you quickly head to the dresser and grab the bottle from the open drawer before heading back to the armchair. You stand in front of Elijah, who has now removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and pass him the lube.

You're about to take your rightful spot on his lap again when you notice his leg that you were previously humping and you feel your cheeks heat up. Elijah’s navy pant leg is a darker shade, damp with your sweat. But what really makes you feel like your legs might give out is the whiteish stains of your precum, smeared over the entire length of the fabric.

“On my lap, facing away.” Elijah’s stern voice makes you jump. He looks so good right now. His black tie loose. His suit is messy and wrinkled, his muscles bulging slightly against his light blue shirt. His onyx eyes are staring at you with pure lust. His jaw is littered with stubble and his beautiful lips are parted and swollen from kissing. His previously neat and gelled hair is messy and spiky from your hands running through it. His legs are spread invitingly, his erection on display, straining against the confines of his pants.

You manage to tear your eyes from the gorgeous man and get into the position he commanded, straddling his legs backwards, your feet pressed against the back of the chair either side of Elijah’s hips. Luckily the armchair was wide enough that you could comfortably fit your legs either side of him, squished between the armrests and Elijah’s thighs. You arch your back, resting your head on Elijah’s shoulder and thanking your body for being so flexible.

Elijah kisses your shoulder, then your neck, sucking a bruise into the skin and making you moan. “So pretty,” Elijah mumbles, “My pretty boy.” He grabs your arms holding your wrists tightly.

“Yours.” You whimper. Elijah pushes against your back, forcing you down until your upper body is hanging upside down, your head brushing his shoes. You moan loudly as Elijah closes his legs, trapping your cock between his thighs. He’s holding your entire weight with one hand around your wrists, the slight ache in your shoulders being drowned out by the pleasure flowing through you.

“Fuck, Elijah.” You keen, feeling Elijah’s hand on your ass cheek. He brings his palm down sharply, sending a sting through you.

“That’s not what you call me is it brat?” Elijah scolds. You wail as he starts moving his thighs, causing delicious friction on your painful erection.

“Sorry, sir.” You pant, blood steadily rushing to your head from the angle. Elijah hums appreciatively. You hear the sound of a bottle cap opening before lube lands on your tailbone, running down your crack. You squeal at the coldness of the gel. Elijah shushes you softly, before running his fingers down, collecting the lube and spreading it around your hole.

“Sorry sweet thing. I only have one hand.” He coos, circling the tip of his finger around your pucker before slipping it past the ring of muscle, filling you with his entire finger before pulling back out and adding a second.

“Please, please.” You sob desperately trying to speed up the process, and feeling like you might explode if his thighs don’t stop moving.

“Please what baby? Tell me what you need.” Elijah says sweetly, scissoring his fingers before curling them. his fingertips press against your prostate, making your eyes roll back and your hips jerk.

“I’m gonna come sir, please!” You almost yell, feeling your balls tighten, your body preparing to shoot your seed.

Everything stops.

Elijah’s thighs spread again and his fingers vanish from your hole, his hand now rubbing up your back.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Hopefully you’re stretched enough from last time.” Elijah speaks as though he’s talking about the weather, not that his boyfriend was about to cum all over him. You sob dryly, the rising boil of your climax now only simmering.

“S-sir.” You whisper, feeling light headed from being upside down. Elijah pulls you back up, releasing your arms and flipping you around to face him. He shushes you, pulling you into his chest and kissing your sweaty forehead while running a hand through your damp matted hair.

“It’s okay little one.” He whispers, “let’s get you on my cock, hm? Then you can cum as much as you want.” Elijah sits you upright, then brings his hands down to his belt, undoing his pants just enough to pull his hard member and heavy balls out from his underwear.

You pull his tie loose, letting it hang from his collar as you undo the buttons of his shirt, running your hands along his toned chest. You look down, whimpering at the thick cock below you, impressively long with his red tip leaking and a prominent vein running down the length of his shaft. Fuck, you want it so badly.

“I know you do baby.” Elijah laughs, coating himself with lube. You blush as you realise you said that out loud. Elijah helps position you above him, looking into your eyes as you slowly sink down into him. Elijah moans breathily, while a long whine leaves your lips. You stop halfway, getting used to his large cock stretching you out. You claw at his shoulders and drop your mouth into his, kissing him sloppily, overwhelmed with desire.

Elijah kisses back with his usual calm and confident composure, one hand cupping your cheek and the other gripping your waist. Elijah seems to decide that you’re taking too long to adjust, so he pulls you back from the kiss and places both hands on your hips. Knowing your limits and knowing you can take it, Elijah yanks you down the rest of the way until you’re fully seated on his lap and stuffed full of his cock.

The mix of surprise and pleasure from his action causes you to scream, quickly wrapping your arms around his shoulders and muffling your sounds into his neck. Elijah wraps his big arms around you, holding your shaking body tightly and whispering soothing praises in your ear. “Gosh, such a good boy for me. You feel so good my love.” He groans.

After a couple minutes of adjusting, you sit up and slowly start to swivel your hips. Elijah grabs your arse cheeks in each hand, squeezing the muscle before gliding one hand up your body. You gasp when his nail lightly scrapes against your sensitive nipple, trailing up your chest and wrapping around your neck.

Elijah applies delicious pressure to the sides of your throat, cutting off blood flow without hindering your breathing. The action makes you feel lightheaded in the best way, even more so when he begins lifting you up and down, enticing you to bounce on his cock.

You find a steady rhythm, feeling the curve of Elijah’s cock hitting your prostate perfectly with every drop of your hips. You know you won’t last long, the heat of your climax bubbling inside you once more as the smell of sweat and the sound of smacking skin fills the bedroom.

Elijah is breathing heavily, looking at you with an intense gaze of desire and adoration before lowering his eyes to your neglected cock, swinging up and down from your movements. His hand tightens around your neck, causing you to grab his forearm. Both your small hands are unable to wrap fully around him, instead you dig your nails into his skin for grip as your thighs start to burn, your pace slowing with exhaustion.

“I-I can’t- mmh fuck.” You whimper as Elijah thrusts his hips up to meet your own. He releases your neck as you stop bouncing, grinding your hips lazily as Elijah presses an open mouthed kiss to your parted lips.

“Is my boy getting tired?” Elijah murmurs against your lips, pulling back and chuckling at your fucked out look as you hum in agreement. “It’s alright sweetheart, wrap your arms around me.” Elijah comforts, smiling as you eagerly nuzzle your face into him, sucking at his prickly jaw. He lifts your body slightly, pressing your hard cock into his lower stomach as your arms encircle his neck.

He keeps one arm under your bum, holding your bruised cheek in his large hand while his other hand holds the back of your head, cradling it firmly against him.

You release a near scream as Elijah suddenly begins pounding up into you, his movements causing mind numbing friction to your sensitive cock that’s sandwiched between your bodies. You try to throw your head back, but Elijah’s strong hold keeps you firmly in place. Making you squeal as your eyes roll back with the control he has, practically fucking you stupid.

“Mmh that’s it,” Elijah moans, unbothered by your attempts at moving, knowing that you’d tell him if you wanted to stop. “Just needed me to take over, yeah?” He drawled, as his heavy cock fills you to the brim, his balls slapping against your ass with filthy slapping noises. You sob wetly into his skin, overwhelmed with pleasure as you leak more fluid from your tip.

“It’s so much..” you mumble, tears streaming down your face and pooling in his collarbones. “I know baby, and you’re taking it all.” Elijah praises, his thrusts becoming erratic as his cock throbs and twitches inside you, his tip battering your abused prostate over and over.

“Are you going to come for me?” Elijah asks huskily, “Make a mess as I fill your tight little hole with my seed?” You moan at his words that only push your impending climax closer.

“Yes, Sir!” You wail, feeling your balls tighten as your walls begin to squeeze his cock. Elijah thrusts with inhuman speed, making you scream into his neck as he pushes you over the edge.

A wave of ecstasy floods your body as your cock releases three heavy spurts of cum. Your walls contract uncontrollably, your body trying to milk the cock still pounding into you.

“That’s my boy, come on my cock- oh my.” Elijah lets out a guttural moan, his hips stilling against yours as his seed sprays against your prostate, causing you to jerk as he coats your inner walls white.

Heavy breathing and the crackling of the fireplace is all that’s heard, starkly contrasting the previous pornographic screams you were releasing. Elijah laughs as you breathe out an elongated ‘fuck’. Your body still shaking as Elijah pulls your head back by the hair and meets you for a lazy kiss.

“So, choking is a yes then?” Elijah questions against your lips, causing you to laugh, pulling back to look at him. You hiss as he pulls out, come dripping down your thighs and onto Elijah’s suit pants.

“Definitely.” You giggle, resting your head on his shoulder and gazing lovingly at him. He tilts his head back against the armchair, looking at the ceiling before a smirk graces his lips.

“And how was your dominating experience, my love?” Elijah teases, turning to look at your annoyed expression. You scoff, slapping his chest playfully and muttering ‘dick’. Elijah cackles, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead and basking in the calmness of the warm and cozy evening.

Guys my size kink might be showing a bit… (please I thought this was so cool^)

Msg me to be on a tag list I’ll start one when I’ve got a couple people. And send requests !

- Dex

[put-me-on-a-hitlist]

I feel sorry for my body here since it can never know the beauty of knowing theirs. These eyes will never meet their eyes. These fingers will never interlock with their fingers. These lips will never feel the sensation of their lips. These lungs will never share the same air as their lungs. These limbs will never be intertwined with their limbs. These legs will never walk with their legs. It’s a shame, really, because this body is so close to divinity, yet so far away.