This is a short fluff without plot bucktommy drabble. I want to get into writing them more including the dom!tommy sub!buck fic that won't leave me alone, but I just wanted to write something simple to get a feel for them. It's been so long since I actually wrote anything for the show that it feels like I'm brand new to it, tbh.
•••
"I wish I knew you sooner."
Buck breathes the words like a confession, almost hoping they'll go unheard. He doesn't even know where the thought came from, but it seems to play on repeat in his mind as soon as he speaks it into existence.
It's too early in the morning after a too long shift, and he knows that it's still mostly dark outside without having to look. There's a chill in the air but he's warm, burrowed beneath messy covers and curled back-to-chest in the arms of a man who runs hot more often than not.
Not just any man.
His boyfriend.
Buck's mouth twitches into a smile he can't quite contain as he tugs on the arm draped lazily over his waist. Tommy grumbles out a series of syllables that might be words if he weren't every bit as tired from his own shift, but he doesn't pull back.
He moves even closer, if possible, nuzzling at the back of Buck's neck and pressing a soft kiss just behind his ear. Goosebumps break out over his skin at the sensations and Buck is helpless to the swell of utter contentment that blooms in his chest.
He almost thinks that his wish might come true, and that Tommy may not have heard him, as he traces his fingers over the grooves and scars on Tommy's hand. He aligns their palms and notes, not for the first time, that his own hand is ever so slightly smaller. It's something that pleases him more than he can really express.
"M'not sure you'd've liked me sooner," Tommy says, his voice rough with sleep in a way that does things to Buck.
He feels a low tug of something hot in his belly, and can't help the shiver that wracks his body. Tommy mistakes it for something else and pulls his hand away, much to Buck's chagrin, to tug the covers up higher over them both.
"I would've," Buck argues, almost petulant in his disbelief, taking his hand back to lace their fingers.
Tommy snorts quietly, dropping another kiss to his shoulder.
"I'm sure you've heard the stories," he says, a note of regret in his tone.
Buck more than understands, even if their situations weren't quite the same.
"There's more than a few stories about me floating around," he says casually, because talking about the man he once was doesn't sting like it used to. "I've hit a few rough patches. It took a long time for me to understand why everyone didn't just write me off. Sometimes I still wonder if they should've."
It's a lingering insecurity that Buck didn't really mean to voice, and he shrinks in on himself before he can help it. He hears the sheets rustle behind him as Tommy shifts, propping himself up on one elbow and slipping his other hand free to rub his thumb over the tense muscles of Buck's shoulder.
"I've heard how they all talk about you, Evan. You're loved by everyone, more than you know."
Buck lets the words cover him like a blanket, his eyes falling closed at Tommy's gentle kneading.
"Well, I went through a few software updates to get here, I guess."
Tommy laughs unexpectedly, bright and carefree, and Buck can't help but smile at the sound of it.
"Software updates?"
Buck doesn't bother explaining it all to him, instead rolling on his back to finally face him. Tommy's hair is messy in the dim morning light, still curly from the short shower he took before stumbling into bed. He has a few days worth of scruff on his jaw that looks unimaginably good on him, and Buck feels that tug of want again.
"Just had to figure out some stuff about myself along the way," he says dismissively, running his hand over Tommy's arm and appreciating the strong curve of his biceps beneath his touch.
Being with a man comes with a wealth of new experiences, and new discoveries about himself. Realizing just how much he likes dating someone who is every bit as strong as himself is among those realizations.
"Well, it's a good thing you haven't had any recent earth-shattering revelations about yourself, huh?" Tommy teases.
Buck grins in response, shuffling on the bed until he's laid out underneath him. Tommy doesn't miss a thing, one eyebrow lifting as he moves slowly until his hands are planted on either side of him. Buck lets his legs fall open without really thinking about it, but Tommy stays hovering over him.
"You think maybe you wish that you'd have figured out all of this sooner instead?" he asks, tipping his head to the side.
Buck knows what he means, and there's no denying that he wishes he'd have figured himself out long ago. He thought that he knew what it was like to feel wholly himself until the moment he realized that his jealousy wasn't aimed quite where he thought. But that doesn't mean he wishes any less that he'd met Tommy sooner. He suspects it may have saved him a lot of grief.
"I do," Buck admits, stroking his fingers lazily over Tommy's arm. "But both can be true, right?"
Tommy's eyes grow soft, and he finally sinks down into the cradle of his hips as his hand lifts to cradle Buck's cheek.
"Of course."
Turning his head, Buck brushes a light kiss over his wrist and earns an eye-crinkling smile for it.
"Sweetheart," Tommy murmurs, running his thumb over Buck's bottom lip.
He kisses the pad of his thumb too, just for good measure. Tommy exhales a soft breath as if he's giving into some unspoken temptation and he drops down completely, his weight trapping Buck against the mattress in the best possible way.
He shudders as Tommy's lips find his own, coaxing him into a deep kiss. It lasts and lasts, and Buck is breathless when they break apart. Tommy drops a line of kisses along his jaw, each more tender than the one before, and it's all he can do not to melt right then and there.
"I wish I knew you sooner too," Tommy whispers right in his ear, his words soft and laced with affection. "But I'm so glad I know you now."
Buck hums his agreement, hitching his leg high on Tommy's hip as he turns his face for another kiss. It won't be long until their exhaustion hits again, but he's content to take advantage of what time they have until then.
And, as Tommy gives into his wordless plea and kisses him, Buck knows that he wouldn't change a thing about the life that's brought him here.
He knows that this exactly where he's meant to be.
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Better Than Revenge
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader
—-
sypnosis: more jealous clarisse and this time she gets to be insane about it (I Can See You coded tbh)
a/n: soft clarisse MOVE OVER insane clarisse hiiiiiii ….anyways i hope you all enjoy!!
Better Then Revenge - Taylor Swift
warnings: possessive clarisse pleek i want you i need you, violence, swearing, punching lol, men, allusions to sex and this is just pretty suggestive, tell me if i missed anything!!
—-
The anniversary of Mr. D being sentenced to a life at Camp Half Blood has become his birthday over the years.
Of course, his children use that as an excuse to throw a rowdy party disguised as a simple bonfire.
Chiron turns a blind eye, as long as everyone swears to not give him any alcohol, and there’s still a modicum of responsibility among the camp population.
It’s one of the highlights of the summer, the heat from the fire, the dark night lit only by Selene, where it feels like you can do anything and get away with it.
It’s your first with Clarisse, and by the way she’s looking at you right now, you’re probably not gonna last more than an hour before you get dragged somewhere to make out. Which is not what you want.
You’re already in your outfit, the jean shorts you know she likes, the low-cut top you know she likes, leaning over in front of the mirror as you do your lipstick.
“Do you have something you want to say?”
Clarisse usually sits with you as you get ready for something, since you shamelessly take longer than her. She always calls you her prettiest girl, then expects you not to live up to it?
She doesn’t rush you. She’s never impatient. She just likes watching you, and it’s fun to put on a show.
She always looks at you, but something about the look in her eyes tonight is especially… feral.
“What’d you mean?” she says, smirking and leaning back on her elbows.
The Aphrodite cabin is a particular swirl of activity, but your little corner is just you and her. She refused to wear anything but her camp t-shirt and a pair of jeans, of course, but she looks good in anything.
“You’re looking at me like you want to pounce.”
“Took you this long to pick up on that?”
You laugh, bending over to grab a jewelry box that lives at the foot of your floor length mirror.
“Baby, let’s just stay back,” she groans.
“This is our first time going together, though. I want to go.”
“And I want to kiss you until we both pass out.”
“Oh, how romantic,” you whisper, holding earrings up to your ear. The dangly pearls look best. Some sort of dangerous thought slithers into your mind, and you turn around to face her with a slow smile.
“Oh, Gods. What?”
“If you can go an entire hour without kissing me…”
She looks up at you like you’ve just called her the worst warrior at camp.
“Then we’ll leave as soon as the hours up, and do whatever you want. But if you can’t, then we get to stay until I say so.”
She smirks. The only thing she loves more than you is competition, a challenge. You watch her eyes light up.
“I can do an hour.”
“Oh, really?”
“I have amazing self-control, actually.”
“Oh, really?” you repeat, drawing out the word.
“Really,” she says, rolling her eyes and mocking you.
She’s sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on her palms now, watching you as you step forward.
“Really,” she says again.
But her smile fades as you place your hands on her shoulders, her hands coming to your waist as you place yourself right down on her lap. She lies down and let’s you straddle her, tracing her lips with your pointer finger.
It’s so startlingly silent and tense, she can hear your breath, you can hear hers.
You squeeze her face in your hands. “Well, time to go!” you announce, climbing off of her.
“You’re a demon,” she hisses. “A witch.”
“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite,” you roll your eyes. “I prefer to be called a seductress.”
—-
The party is already buzzing when you get there, night just falling and the fire blazing high.
You wave to a few of your friends, dragging Clarisse by the hand as you lead her to the best group of chairs and benches, not too close and not too far from the fire. All of the camp counselors and the people around your age are there, drinking punch and talking amongst themselves.
You greet your half sister and head counselor of the Aphrodite cabin, Phoebe, with a kiss and a hug.
“You look so pretty, Y/N,” she smiles. “I love the pearls.”
“Thank you,” you gush. You look up to Phoebe more than you would like to admit. One day you hope to take her position, and it wouldn’t hurt to make a good impression now. “You look gorgeous.”
Clarisse’s hand falls from yours and she pushes you forward to the empty seat next to Phoebe.
You look behind you. She gives you a look that says “Are you dumb? Talk to her.”
You’re always so close to Clarisse, but she goes and sits nexts to a few of her siblings on top of a picnic table 5 feet away.
You hum and start talking to Phoebe about a few of the new arrivals about camp- you both agree one of the new boys is a son of Aphrodite, before Phoebe looks past you and cringes.
“One of the other new kids is staring at you.”
You risk a small glance.
There’s nothing special about him. Pale skin, brown hair and brown eyes. He’s not your type, to say the least, especially when you steal a look at Clarisse and find she’s already looking at you-
You stomach flips.
She taps her wrist as if there was a watch there.
“Almost halfway,” she mouths, smiling brightly.
You look pointedly back at Phoebe.
“He’s eh,” you shrug.
“If he doesn’t stop staring at us I’m gonna go insane.”
“Is he really staring?” you ask.
“Yeah. I think he thinks he’s flirting, or something? I don’t know.”
You shrug. He probably knows you’re dating Clarisse, and if he doesn’t, he probably will soon.
She bumps your shoulder.
“Any updates with Clarisse?”
You smile, playing with your fingers.
“No, not really. We’re still happy. Actually, we’re having a contest right now. If she can resist kiss me for an hour, then we’ll leave. But if she can’t, then we get to stay at the party all night.”
“Ooh, that’s evil,” she teases.
“I know, I’m having so much fun.”
You both laugh, and Phoebe opens her mouth just to close it. She fakes dropping something to lean closer to you.
“He’s coming over here.”
“Oh, Gods,” you mutter.
“Hey, ladies,” he says. His voice is deep and scratchy, like he just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. “How y’all doin’ tonight? Enjoying the party?”
You have to stifle a laugh. Phoebe was one of the cabin leaders who helped organize the party.
“Havin’ fun,” you smile awkwardly. He stares so intensely into your eyes you have to breathe out not to laugh.
“Good, good. Either of you know where the punch station is?”
“Oh, yeah, sure, it’s right by the Apollo cabin,” Phoebe points.
He follows her finger. “Great, thanks.”
He looks at you and winks. “See you around.”
Both you and Phoebe dissolve into a fit of giggles.
—-
You make your way over to Clarisse after a second, sitting down next to her on the table. You hug your knees to your chest from where they sit on the actual bench.
“‘M cold,” you moan, rubbing your knees.
Her siblings, Carrie and Nelson are now distracted by Phoebe’s animated talking, leaving the two of you.
She wraps her arm around your shoulder, letting you lean against her.
“You wore those shorts,” she says.
“For you.”
“Oh, you’re so mean.”
“Before the challenge. And I think you mean ‘thanks for trying to make me happy, Y/N.’”
Clarisse laughs.
“Okay, pretty thing,” she mutters. “That’s what I meant.”
“Right,” you mutter, pushing yourself further against her. It’s better here, closer to the fire, but there’s still this chill in your bones.
“Stop being so close to me,” Clar mutters.
You turn to her.
“What did you just say to me?”
“It’s almost irresistible to kiss you,” she whispers. “I’m not allowed to kiss your forehead, am I?”
You put your face into her warm neck.
“Is that kissing me?” you whisper, your lips brushing her skin.
“Shut up,” she mumbles, pushing you away from her. “You’re not distracting me. I’m not losing this. One hour, then we’re going back to my cabin and staying there for a long time.”
You smile, lifting your face up from her neck to stare in her eyes. She smiles softly back at you.
“Did you see me turn around and bend over to fix my shoes?”
Her eyes blaze.
“Should have guessed that was on purpose. What’d you call yourself? A seductress? I agree.”
You smile, wrapping your arms around yourself, deciding you’ll be nice and give her a few minutes reprieve. Ares kids are always so warm, and even just being pressed slightly against her is nice.
Someone places a jacket over your shoulders. You smile, turning to Clarisse, not remembering if she had a jacket on. Did she bring one for you?
“Clar, I-”
She’s not looking at you at all. She’s staring off towards the fire, holding your hand, and you know she didn’t just give you this jacket.
Harry walks around the table, smiling.
“Looks better on you then it did me,” he says, awkwardly. “You looked cold, so…” he laughs.
Clarisse finally realizes that he’s talking to the two of you, or well, you.
“Huh?” she says, giving him a bored look. Immediately slipping back into her mean girl persona, even though she was just blushing with your face in her neck five seconds ago.
She looks at you at the corner of her eye.
You’re sitting there, frozen with his jacket over your shoulders.
“Uh…” you say, stupidly, because your mind is literally empty. What are you even supposed to do in this situation?
Clarisse grabs at the black jacket.
“She looked cold,” he says.
She finally realizes what happened.
“So, you’re hitting on my girlfriend? Right next to me?”
His smile falls. “Y-your friend, yeah-”
She rips the jacket off of you and throws it at him.
“Girlfriend,” she hisses.
“It’s not my fault,” he says, scrambling to catch his jacket, getting defensive now. He knows he fucked up, his pride is hurt. “You weren’t even touching, and she was, like, shivering-”
She stands up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
“Hey, hey, Clarisse,” her sister Carrie says. “What’s going on?”
Clarisse glares at him. He starts sputtering incoherently.
Carrie raises an eyebrow towards you.
“He gave me his jacket,” you mumble, still feeling a little dazed. “Clar, c’mon, let him go.”
Carrie takes a step back. “Oh, ‘kay. I don’t care if she beats him up then,” she laughs.
“It looked like they were friends!” Harry shouts, pushing Clarisse back.
She punches him in the face.
“Clarisse!” you yell, jumping down from the table. “Don’t you dare!” you grab her arm, she’s fuming, rearing to punch him again.
A crowd has formed around you.
Harry groans and holds his bleeding nose.
“You fucking bitch,” he mutters.
“Clarisse. Clarisse, please, let’s go. Let’s just go.”
“You weren’t even that hot anyway,” he hisses.
“Don’t fucking talk about her!” she yells, jumping forward to punch him again-
“Clarisse!” you shout, not wanting her to get in trouble but you’re a second too late. Her fist flies into his cheek, but he’s prepared this time, so he takes it and counters with his own punch.
Your heart squeezes, but she blocks it, and both of their respective siblings finally jump in to hold them back.
“Oh, Gods,” you mumble, staring at his blood on the ground. At least it’s not hers. “Carrie!” you shout, giving her a pleasing look, and she nods.
“C’mon, Clarisse,” she says. “You’re very strong and tough, stop beating up the twig whose got no chance.”
It takes three of her siblings to corner her against the picnic bench.
“Giving her your fucking jacket, I should kill you!” she shouts, thrashing against her siblings hold. “She’s mine, dumbass, we’re always around each other, did you not notice?!”
“Clarisse- stop!” Carrie grunts, putting everything she has into holding her back.
“Go fuck yourself,” he groans, finally having enough common sense to cup his nose and walk away, the groups of people parting for him.
You stand there, shocked. Phoebe comes next to you.
“Oh, I love this night,” she sighs. You shoot her an unimpressed look.
After he’s gone, her siblings let a fighting Clarisse out of their holds, and she scans the crowd, but Harry really has disappeared. Her eyes find yours immediately.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, marching towards you and immediately pressing her lips against yours.
Pride is her fatal flaw. And when her ego is wounded, especially when it comes to you, she feels an inherent need to try and get it back.
She can’t beat up Harry, but showing everyone you’re hers is what you guessed she would do next.
She grabs you by the neck, the other arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you two closer together. You’re touching everywhere, kissing her is like touching her electric spear, and she finally pulls away slowly.
She can’t say that she loves you, so she just kisses your temple instead, wrapping her arm back around your shoulder.
As much as you hate violence, that was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.
—-
Clarisse drags you off to her cabin.
“Oh, fuck,” she mumbles, opening the door.
“What?” you whisper, squeezing her hand.
“The contest. We should have stayed-”
You snort. “Who gives a fuck about the contest? I’ve been swayed. Let’s go make out.”
She seems a little shocked, extremely excited, and starts ushering you towards the ladder of the loft.
“Well, who am I to deny you,” she says, holding your ass as you ascend.
“Also, stop punching people.”
“That’s where I deny you.”
You make it to the top, her hands on your waist as she follows you. She’s always touching you, like she’s addicted to you. You pretend, but you’re so in love with her you genuinely think you’re gonna fall over just thinking about her sometimes.
“Clarisse, seriously. You’re gonna get in trouble one day, and-”
She spins you around and throws you back on your bed. You yelp as she climbs on top of you.
“No. Kiss now, lecture later.”
You protest, but she shuts you up by smashing her lips into yours. It’s rough, you did tease her all night, all teeth and the sounds of your roaring heartbeats.
She starts kissing down your neck, your dig your hands into your curls.
“‘She’s mine’?” you say after a second, referencing her anger-haze of a rant.
“Yes,” she says. Softly, but not sheepishly. She says it confident and proud. “You are.”
“I am,” you mutter back, having a feeling she’s gonna leave hickey’s all over you.
You do your best to flip her over, but she’s all muscle and it’s hard, so she ends up grabbing your hips and helping you.
“What?” she gasps, confused at the change of position. Not that she’s complaining, though.
“You did lose the challenge,” you tease.
She doesn’t like to admit she lost.
You hover your lips right above hers.
“Say it.”
Her fingers dig into your hips.
“I lost,” she grits. “You won.”
“I did,” you mumble, lips grazing yours, but you’re getting bored and you want to kiss her just as bad.
And you do, your hands on her face, her fingers starting to slip under your shirt. She mumbles against your lips.
“Fuck, this is so much better than revenge.”
—-
(pls ignore it’s for the acc aesthetics thank you)
(i’m actually the funniest person alive if you couldn’t tell)
—-
clarisse: oh, so you think i cant take care of my girlfriend? because we’re not close enough? because you think she’s cold? well guess what. now i’m never letting her out of my sight again, fuckfaces
y/n: FUCK YES i mean noooooooo noooooo that’s horrible omggg
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme
@jazhandzzz @urbisexualfriend
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𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆
DAY 24: SPREADER BAR
With: Zenitsu Agatsuma
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: Sub! Zenitsu, gn! reader, crying, reader kinda is pushy but Zenitsu is fine with it, VERY sensitive Zenistu, overstimulation,
A/N: I hope i didn't take this too far. Reader is kinda pushier than my other fics, but idk. kinda nervous about this one for some reason. tbh, I'm not really liking any of my kinktober fics </3
Zenitsu squirms. Plain and simple. Kiss his cheek and he is giggling like a school girl, touch his chest and he is shrinking away from you with a whine, stroke his cock and he is accidentally closing his thighs together. It was just instinctual, he’s sensitive, and even if he likes the touch, he seems to struggle staying still and letting it happen.
So, you bought him a spreader bar. Zenitsu adores handjobs, but its always a pain to keep respreading his legs (You once slapped his thighs as a warning to keep them open, and he immediately sobbed and begged for forgiveness. You never slapped him again). It was good to take measures into your own hands.
But, he happened to be a little nervous about it.
“Y/NNNNN. Is this really necessary?” Zenitsu whines, his face pink from embarrassment at being completely bare in front of you. You were clicking on the cuffs to his ankles, while he lays against the headboard.
You kiss the inside of his knee, before moving up closer to him. “You know it is. How am I supposed to make you feel good if you keep moving away?”
He pouts and looks away. “Don’t mean to.”
“I know baby, you’re just so sensitive. I love that about you,” You coo, leaning forward to kiss his temple. You rest your hand on his abdomen, and he flinches, eyes flickering to yours out of nervousness.
He looks down at his open legs and covers his face. “So embarrassing.”
“Hmmm. It’s cute, legs spread like a little whore. Only for me, hmm?” He whines at the slight degradation, moving closer to you to seek comfort in your warmth. But of course, he agrees, slightly nodding and playing with his fingers.
Your hand moves down to his cock, and he lets out an airy breath. Immediately you hear the clanging of the cuffs as he tries to move. You grin, glad his thighs aren’t stopping your antics, and pump him once, and then twice. His hand grips onto your pants and he looks up at you with pleading eyes.
You continue, now going faster, and he keens, back slightly arching off the bed. He tries to keep his mouth shut, but it gets harder with every second. A minute goes by, and he is already spasming.
“F-Fuck slow down–You know I can’t!” He isn’t used to this, he usually gets a small break in the moments you take to pull away his legs. A chance for him to calm down, to not let his oversensitive body overwhelm him.
His legs are trembling and flexing as they try to force themselves together, but can’t. You continue your merciless pace, and his mouth hangs open, moans and whimpers falling with every second. Tears have already begun to well up. “I can’t. Wait, please! I can’t! Too much. It’s too much!”
You slightly slow your pace at his words and watch the way the pre drips down your hands. His thighs are shaking and he is twitching. Tears begin to spill over as he finally has a chance to catch his breath. You rub his face, brushing the drops away. “’m sensitive! Can’t keep up. You are going too fast, Y/N!” He sobs, and you coddle his face in apology, glancing back at the way his whole body seems to jerk when you reach the head of every slow stroke.
You coo at him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, as the spreader bar clanks with his movements. “But doesn’t it feel good, Zen? Your body is so reactive. You just need to relax and let it happen.”
He looks up at you with crocodile tears in his eyes and lets out a couple of sniffles. “Well, it did feel good. Just scary. Don’t got any control over myself,” He warbles, burying his face into your clothes for comfort.
You smile at him and begin to pick up the pace of your hand again. His hand tightens into a fist on your clothing. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just gotta relax for me, yeah?”
A second goes by, and then two. “Mhmkay. Just, try to be gentle. Please?”
“Of course. Doing so well, ya know. Being such a good boy,” You praise, and he lets out a happy hum, soaking up the words.
You slowly make your way to your original pace, ignoring the way he jumps, or tries to hyperextend one of his legs at the feeling. He begins to pant, and he’s clutching at you desperately, trying to keep himself relaxed, but also grounded.
Eventually, you reach your original pace, and his knees are caving in. He wants to close his legs desperately, but he can’t, and his body is reacting immensely to the intense pleasure. “Fuck. Fuck. Its a lot. It’s too much!”
“How does it feel, Zenitsu?”
He thrashes around the sheets, crying again, but seeming to enjoy it more than before. He doesn’t look afraid, just simply letting it happen. “Good! Mhmmokay im okay. Just–Just hard. Cant….Think!”
The bed creaks from his sporadic movements, and you are even having trouble keeping your hands on him. His hips are turning from left to right, and his back is arching occasionally. His mouth is open again, and his eyes are hazy. “Can’t last. I can’t!”
The bar continues to rattle, and his legs continue to strain against it. You are even worried that he might break it from the force of his movements. “You can cum whenever you want, my love.”
He doesn’t respond, just nodding his head, with his eyes slightly rolled back. His hands can’t stay still, interchanging from clutching at you or the sheets, to holding onto his legs to try to help stop force against the bar.
With his upcoming orgasm, the pleasure becomes more intense, and he begins to sob. “Fuck. S-Sensitive. Oh god, feels weird! Gonna cum. Please please please! It’s too much again!”
“You already have my permission, Zen. Relax, let it out.” He nods into your clothing and clings onto you like a lifeline but listens.
He cums, and it’s much different than before. He can’t curl up into himself, as he usually does, but tries to anyways. His body goes stiffer than usual, and he lets out three high pitches, broken moans. He shuts his eyes and arches his back into you. The white liquid coats his stomach, but he can’t even feel it, instead focusing on riding out the waves.
He looks cute like this. It seems like it was his strongest orgasm in a while, and you are intrigued by it. Your hand slows down, and forces out the last couple of drops from the tip.
You accidentally overstimulate him, and his whole body jerks and he lets out a whimpering sound. You gulp and pull away, trying to think of other thoughts, because overstimulating Zenitsu may be adorable, but if he reacted the way he does with a handjob, you may kill the poor boy with anything more.
But he blinks at you, eyes red with tears. “Again?” He breathes, still twitching occasionally from the aftershock.
You gulp again, not sure if going again would kill him, or you.
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