#it should be warm enough with just the duvet for now

[stargazingpsychotic]

It's that time of year where I can put my actual duvet on my bed on top of my weighted blanket and then gradually keep adding blankets

[st4rbwrry]

𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

              𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you’re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

              𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. “i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡ 

[hollandsangel]

move over | m. sturniolo

okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid

ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜

summary: matt needs a bigger bed

wc: 1k

warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!

..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, pale blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.

with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.

it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut, and it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.

for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.

matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.

“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.

matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”

“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”

matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”

chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”

matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.

chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.

you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.

“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.

matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.

“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.

once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.

you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.

after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.

“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.

“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.

he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.

“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.

“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.

“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.

“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.

“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.

“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.

you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.

“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.

“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.

tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears

[omitea]

𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 ?

☆ jjk! men & their reaction to you asking them if this seat (their lap) is taken.

. ft. gojo, geto, nanami, higuruma, choso & toji.

. content. ass grabbing, breasts mention, hinting at sexual activity, fluffy (?), bsf! choso, hickeys, toji being a bitch. suggestive, will be tagged as smut.

. note. here u go bae @httpshujii <3 not rlly proofread.

☆— 𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo murmurs a small oh? when you take a seat on his lap instead of the large space on the couch beside him. he isn’t complaining though. the large grin is hard to suppress when he sees you hiding your face in the crook of his neck. his cold hand travels under your shorts, grabbing a hold on the soft plush of your ass. you can’t help but let out a shuddered breath as the familiar feeling of a chill running down your spine overtakes you. this only causes him to pinch the flesh in between his slender fingers— soothing the spot when you let out an annoyed whine. how can he stop when you’re looking so adorable against his chest. everything was so peaceful until he cracked a dirty joke; about how you should be asking him next time for a ride instead. he immediately felt himself harden underneath you when you jokingly moved your hips.

☆— 𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

geto raises an eyebrow as soon as you take a seat on his lap. a sprinkle of confusing displayed on his face, but he lets you have your own way regardless. he spreads his legs just a tad bit to make you more comfortably seated on one thigh. both of your legs straddling him and you can feel his muscles shifting while he leans to place a kiss on your lips. one peck turning into more, and soon enough, you’re both a slobbering mess against one another. bitten lips that have swollen, are now parted for you to catch your breath. and that’s when you feel it— his knee accidentally pressing against your panties that are eager to be removed. his lips meet yours again in hunger, swallowing all your pretty little moans before pressing it a little bit harder to relieve the throbbing ache.

☆— 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

nanami lets out an amused chuckle when you clumsily take a seat. his back resting against the headboard of your shared bed, fluffy weighted duvet covering both of your freshly washed bodies in the slight chilly room. he feels so warm that you can’t help but snuggle deeper into his broad chest— a sound of content leaving your throat. his hand comes up to rub delicate circles on the small of your back, and the other hand manages to flip the next page of his novel. thin brows furrowed in concentration as his eyes try to trace the words printed into the yellowish paper. being deeply inside you makes it hard to do so. hes so engrossed in it, yet his hand never halts. you don’t know how he does it, he’s always so attentive even when he has his own personal moments. the deep, yet soft hums leaving his pink lips, are like soft kisses pressed to your temple— leaving a lingering feeling. it slowly, but eventually lulls you to sleep with a lovesick smile etched on your face. and of course along with the feeling of being filled to the brim.

☆— 𝐇. 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀

higuruma heaves out a sigh when he feels his body close to yours. he was kinda skeptical at first, but soaked into the feeling of having you there. he feels a guilty feeling bubbling in the depths of his chest; from how he’s been in his office almost all day long. its gnawing at his skin, begging him to call it a day and give his undivided attention to you. and he swears he feels a twitch behind the layer of his pants when you look at him through your lashes. your smaller hand took his and inched it further under your shirt. the feeling of your bare chest under the pads of his fingers almost made him feel like his heart has been transplanted all the way to his now hardened length. a soft squeeze on your breast was all you needed to know. it’s been way too long, and soon enough the papers are long forgotten and scattered on the floor. for now, all he needed, was to have you prettily bent over his expensive wooden desk.

☆— 𝐊. 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

choso is eerily quiet. a train consisting of millions of thoughts racking through his brain. those thoughts soon get off the rails when he hears you snort. the sight of his wide eyes and almost horror-like expression makes it interesting to toy with him. he knows he’s just your best friend, but never have you ever been this close before. he hastily places his arms at his sides, ignoring the way his fingers itch to touch you. to feel your warm and soft skin against his cold one. the smell of your perfume entering his nose made it harder for him to breathe. you took notice of the pace his chest was moving at, before he excused himself. the image of you on top of him clouded his mind and he immediately begged his hands for some kind of relief. unbeknownst to him, you could hear all the strained whimpers and cries of your name behind the door of his bathroom. the sound only making you clench your thighs in anticipation.

☆— 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

toji teases you the whole time you’re quietly sitting. it’s kinda embarrassing how he knows exactly what to do to get you all riled up. muttering nasty things he’d love to do to you against the lobe of your ear, grazing his scar while grinning against your skin. his thick calloused fingers moving dangerously close to the insides of your thighs. with your back turned to him, it clearly gave him more excess to your neck. scarred lips leaving marks— going perfectly with your beautiful skin tone. he occasionally bucks his hips, pressing his uncomfortable buldge against your ass. deep raspy groans leaving his chest, only to be interrupted when you press down. always rushing him when he’s taking his time. part of it is his fault, because soon enough, he’s the one pounding you into the couch. yet, he has the nerve to blame it all on you— a crying mess with a cloudy mind that’s trying to think what was it that you did wrong.

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

[oukabarsburgblr]

drabble...

"I love you."

Daisuke kissed the face of the sleeping man beside him, both naked under the duvet covers. The large window panels adjacent to them had maroon curtains shielding the striking shine of the early morning.

Some had managed to peek through, peering inside managing to give Daisuke Yuichi just enough light to reflect in his eyes the beautiful man he had in his arms.

(h/c) hair tousled, skin with (s/c) ink and his heartbeat that was beating underneath Daisuke's hand was nothing short of perfection to him.

Lips pressed into the plush of (m/n)'s cheek, Daisuke peppering kisses all over his face again. "I love you. I love you so much." He pressed another one into his forehead and it woke the (h/c).

"Daisuke..." Groaning, (m/n) winced when he tried to turn his body, feeling a sharp ache striking his bottom. "What are you doing?" The ravenette who placed his face close to the (h/c), his beefy arms caging his body, grinned.

"Nothing."

(m/n) frowned, his head still dizzy and his skin prickling, coated with the aftermath of their passionate scandal in Daisuke's room. He noticed the ravenette was hugging him in his bed and he pushed lightly, opting to leave.

He heard the latter whine and pulling him in closer, Daisuke burying his face into his shoulder. "It's already morning." (m/n) stated firmly, not wanting any other member of the Daisuke household catching him naked in the ravenette's bed. "And? No one's going to come in, just stay put." "Don't think your dad would be happy seeing this."

"My dad likes you. He'd be fine with it."

(m/n) was a bit bothered by the implication, as he managed to slither out of the ravenette's hold, sitting on the edge of the plush bed. He cringed as he felt something pool out of his stretched hole, the wetness staining the covers as Daisuke grabbed his wrist gently.

"Think' you should stay longer." He mumbled, brushing his nose on the tip of (m/n)'s ear, his other hand slinking down the (h/c)'s chest and near his privates. "We did a lot last night." "Nothing's ever enough for me." "Greedy."

(m/n) swatted his face, laughing at his flustered expression. There was no label to them, lovers- friends? Close friends, maybe. A bit too close perhaps.

A whine escaped his throat as Daisuke's hand managed to firmly press against his crotch, his middle finger curling past his hardening cock and dipping into the soft hole he had pounded into last night.

"You'd know me by now." Daisuke whispered, his lips grazing over his jaw as he took (m/n)'s lips for his to claim. The (h/c) sighed as he melted into the ravenette, leaning his body against the kneeling ravenette behind him.

Daisuke continued to finger him, fishing out dried cum and circling around his rim, stretching his loose hole further and (m/n) spread his legs ever so slightly, bucking his hips up against his hand.

"Mmff-ah!" He gasped. The ravenette pulled himself away from the squirming (h/c) just to press their foreheads together, their breaths mixing as their guttural heat began to rose along with the awakening sun.

"Stay a bit longer." (m/n) yelped when Daisuke's pointer finger hit his prostate, curling and mercilessly pressing into the sensitive bundle. His thighs shook as the ravenette began to lick his ear, cooing at him to stay in his arms for a while longer.

"Maybe just...for an hour or two." Daisuke smiled to himself, knowing they were bound to stay at least for half a day as he pulled (m/n) back to the center of the bed, eager to taste the ever-loving man that had warmed his bed for the past two weeks.

The man he had grown to love and cherish with all of his heart, pulling and grasping at his back with equal fervour and somewhere inside Daisuke's mind, he wished it was with equal love he had for (m/n) (l/n).

[END SCENE]

Afterthoughts :

I just miss Daisuke like a lot hm🥲

Ill edit this properly later. Until then!

[beachbxtchforev]

Birthday Boy

how you surprise your boyfriend the morning of his birthday

pairing: fem!reader x boyfriend!rafe

word count: 720

warnings: 18+, oral (male receiving), somnophilia (Rafe), slight degradation, few curse words

blinking your eyes awake, slightly squinting as the sun seeps through the balcony doors of Rafe’s bedroom. you always like to wake up here, as the view out to the grounds of Tanneyhill is hard to match. your yawn is paired with a slight stretch of your body, immediately feeling the effects of last night on your sore limbs. you let Rafe go kind of hard after you two snuck away from the birthday party Topper was throwing him. you really wanted to focus on Rafe’s pleasure since today was his birthday.

you look over your shoulder at Rafe’s peaceful, sleeping expression. he hasn’t woken up yet, however his arm that’s wrapped around you instinctively pulls you back into his bare chest. you giggle to yourself, knowing if anyone saw him the way you did, he would be offended. you turn your body so you can see his face, just wanting to admire the beautiful man sleeping next to you. it takes everything in you not to run your fingertips along his perfectly sculpted jaw, down the slope of his nose, or over his plush lips. you wouldn’t want to wake him up that way. your mind has other plans of how you should.

freeing yourself from his grip causes him to stir slightly, adjusting so he’s laying on his back. perfect, you think. you gently remove the duvet from his body, only covering his bottom half anyway. wiggling your knees to be in between his spread legs, you are thankful he only slept in a pair of boxers last night.

you want to tease him a bit, lightly running your nails along his waistline right above where the boxers are sitting low on his hips. you can’t help but place a peck on his v line, eager to get started.

once you feel satisfied that your small movements won’t wake him immediately, you hook your fingers in the material and pull them down his legs, revealing him to you. thankfully, morning wood is on your side as his dick is already hard. you let out a moan at just the sight of him, anticipation growing in your lower belly.

you lean down, pressing a kiss to his pink tip, manicured hand running along the base as you do. you look up, still no sign of Rafe waking, so you continue. starting with your tongue, you run it from the underside of his base to the tip, letting out a small moan at the taste of him. once you feel like he is slick enough, you wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over it and catching the precum that has formed.

you feel movement above you, a slight grunt escaping Rafes lips, but still not waking him up fully. so, you test your limits by pushing your head down on him, hollowing out your cheeks, and sucking.

“shit baby” he gasps, hoarse morning voice in full effect.

you look up at him, as you push him back down your throat. his eyes are squeezed shut, a mix of shock and pleasure on his expression. his hand comes to the back of your head, keeping you down until you need to catch your breath. he can’t help himself but start to buck up into your throat, warm, wet lips feeling so good around him. he wishes you would wake him up like this everyday.

given that is the morning, he knows it won’t take long for his release, he’s extra sensitive. you moan as he starts to take over, guiding you just how he wants it. you can feel yourself dripping down your legs, bare ass in the air. one hand comes up to grip his thigh for support while the other cradles his balls. his jaw is clenched as he tips his head back, pace increasing.

“lettin me use ya, little slut?” he pants out, “only here to please me”

even with your mouth full you manage to moan out a “yes daddy,” knowing how that name effects him.

“couldn’t even wait til I was awake, huh?” you feel him twitch, “now, you better swallow your breakfast,” he says while releasing down your throat.

once you take his load, you stick your clean tongue out at him. “good girl,” he says reaching out to pull you up to his face.

“good morning birthday boy”

-

let me know what you think in the comments ✨

[delirious-donna]

Awake At The Witching Hour [Part Four]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: You can't sleep and it seems your handsome host can't either. What is there to do in the middle of the night?

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: NSFW, mutual masturbation (but separate, you’ll get the gist), Nanami being pent up, imaginations running wild (both Nanami and reader), cumshot, reader described as being generous and soft in body

Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Five

The witching hour. When it is said that the veil between worlds is at its thinnest, and the power of the nefarious is at its strongest.

You weren’t entirely sure what had roused you. No sense of fear gripped your heart so you doubted it was due to some bad dream, though it had taken a moment to remember where you were.

Black velvet darkness impaired your vision at first, drowsiness adding to your inability to pick out the details of the room you were lying in. The air was pleasantly cool against your warm sleep-soaked skin. You pushed back the duvet to feel the faint breeze play across the soft squidge of your abdomen—the oversized t-shirt you wore pushed up to your chest in the disarray of a tumultuous sleep.

The events of the day unfurled in your mind’s eye like a low budget movie. It still didn’t feel real, though you well remembered the blind panic and sense of anger then irritation at being walked in on whilst bathing. No, not walked in, leapt in on. Now that you knew Nanami Kento a little better it was hard to fight the smile that rose to your lips in memory.

He seemed so different at that moment, the booming “booo” not something you would ever expect from the rigid man he had been since then. You wondered if he was a little more relaxed with his friends and loved ones. Did he even have friends?

A suspicion told you that he was the type to keep to himself, or maybe one or two close friends at most. That was relatable, and made him all the more human in your eyes. What might he be like as a boyfriend, you wondered? Attentive and loving or distant and cold? Either was possible, as well as a multitude of other attributes and combinations.

Sighing deeply, you turned onto your side and pulled the covers up to your chin now that your body had cooled from the stream of air that crept in from the ajar window. A glance at your phone told you it was late—an hour you should be asleep at—but you were annoyingly awake.

It seemed the only thing on your mind was that of the man asleep in the room next to yours. A man that didn’t want anything to do with you, a perfect stranger. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder… couldn’t help but fantantise that he could be interested. If he were to knock on your door right now, his hazel eyes, dark pools speared with lightning, and desire evident on his cheeks you would welcome him.

Did he sleep naked? The thought of all that glorious skin bare beneath covers that matched the ones you were snuggled under sent a throb directly between your legs. You were developing a second heartbeat at an alarming rate and it was all his fault. It was ridiculous how good looking he was, and what made it worse was he didn’t seem to know it. You imagined your fingers running through his neatly parted hair and knew he would look even sexier with it all mussed. The just fucked look.

He was well built and definitely strong. Biceps didn’t bulge against shirt sleeves in the way his did if you weren’t bench pressing a decent amount regularly. That and the small home gym were more than enough to know with certainty that if he meant business, you’d be in a heap of trouble. In the best way. Your mind whispered, and you felt fiery warmth fill your cheeks.

You weren’t honestly sure when your hand had begun to stray.

The peaks of your nipples rubbed against your shirt, thumb and finger tweaking the sensitive buds and rolling them deftly until your thighs pressed together at the crave for friction. It was wrong to be thinking such lewd thoughts of your generous host—unwilling as he might have started out—but you couldn’t stop. Kento’s broad frame filled your mind, the looming shadow dwarving you enough to make you feel diminutive by comparison, and equally as thrilled.

The laboured breathing of his barreled chest hard to resist, the rise and fall evidence of a man close to the limit of his restraint and you badly wanted to reach out and touch him. Wild desire radiating from his every pore like a heady musk that you inhaled greedily, longing to become entirely intoxicated by him. Who would break first in the game of lust and longing? Regardless of the answer, there would be no loser.

This was so wrong. So stupendously wrong, not to mention, futile. A veil of madness shrouded the bed and you couldn’t stop nor did you actually wish to. In the darkest part of the night your deepest desires unfolded in perfect clarity. He ticked so many boxes and left question marks in many more. An enigma that you longed to solve. A riddle that you wanted to crow over the answer when it finally revealed itself.

Nanami Kento…

Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, eyes widened at the searing heat you encountered. The skin of your pubic mound was warm to the touch, but as you raked through the neatly trimmed hairs and moved closer to the heart of your sex, it increased tenfold. You might have hissed if you weren’t concerned with making any noise that could alert the object of your arousal. Wetness glided over the pads of your fingertips, sticky and abundant. It spread along your plump folds engorged with blood until your tented knees butterflied outwards and you could feel the twitching urge to toy with your clit.

What would he think of this madness? A young woman intent on masturbating to the thought of him. Would he deepen that permanently etched scowl and reprimand you? And why did even the idea of that outcome spark the ends of your nerves with raw electricity?

Speaking of the man in question, he was awake. Blinking into the darkness as if the ceiling held the answer to his current dilemma. That dilemma being the tent in his tight navy boxer briefs.

Without looking, he palmed himself and manoeuvred his cock to lie flush against his thigh. There. Now it didn’t appear like he was pitching a tent that could sleep a family of four. Instead, the heat of his erection seeped into him and roused his mind all the more.

His dreams had been a jumbled black and white mess, an indicator for the state of his mind. Sleep had found him easily, but the wrinkled and twisted covers showed that it had not been a sound slumber.

Kento puffed, grumpy and aching. He couldn’t recall the last time he wrapped his palm around himself to let off some steam. It had always seemed like a poor use of his time. Opting for cold showers to numb his swollen member, focusing on getting in a rigorous albeit begrudged workout in before the commute to work.

He baulked at the realisation he hadn’t cum in nearly six months. The last time he entertained the idea of dating even further back than that. So what was different?

You. You were something different. Smiling before he could school his features into neutrality, he surmised that your presence was fucking with more than just his routine. It was you that he thought of when he adjusted himself, trying and failing not to think of your smaller fingers around his shaft.

“What is wrong with me?”

He recalled the smile you gifted him when you parted ways for the night, how your small hand had once again reached out to lightly touch his bicep in thanks for carrying your small suitcase into the room. His cock twitched in response. Groaning, he smacked the pillow next to him over his face. If he were a dog his tail would be wagging. Not just a dog, more like a mongrel.

Kento swore your scent lingered in his room. The wafts of your perfume were stronger in the bathroom and he tried to ignore the subtle sweetness even as it infused inside his nose. Right now, it seemed to have settled into his sheets and he longed to bury his nose in the high count cotton and inhale deeply. Nothing was dissuading him from lowering the band of his briefs until he stood proudly erect.

Maybe if he satisfied the urge now, the fog that clouded his judgement would clear and all would be right again. That was what he told himself while pulling back the covers to free himself. Precum dribbled from the angry slit of his cockhead, turning the near purple tip glossy and sticky.

His thumb swiped through the mess and his hips rose instinctively. Behind his shuttered eyelids he saw you approach the bed, generous hips swaying clad in the softest satin. In truth, he couldn’t give a fuck for expensive lingerie, but it was aesthetically pleasing and this was his fantasy so why not indulge? He’d be just as happy to greet you in sweats or better yet… his shirt.

Oh fuck.

The tendons in his neck strained, head thrown back whilst he pumped himself lazily at first. Would you be shy in bed? Assertive? Would you drop your jaw to let your tongue run over the seam of his balls whilst using that quick witted mouth of yours on him?

The unknown was almost more tantalising to him than the act itself. It had been so long since the experience of working someone out appealed to him. To learn their nuances and what made them tick. More specifically, your nuances and what made you tick.

With months of denying himself under his belt, it didn’t take long for Kento to feel that familiar tingle begin at the small of his back. His balls drew tight and full, and he flushed a darker red at how easily he was ready to cum. His free hand clenched into a fist, the cotton of the sheets held tightly whilst his toes curled. A guttural groan escaped his throat before he could smother it, quickly biting his lip as spurts of hot cum lashed his quivering stomach. Warm honeyed pleasure dripped in inversion from the bottom of his spine to the base of his skull until his eyes rolled over.

Kento slowed the stroke of his hand, wringing his cock of every last drop until he was close to whimpering from the sensitivity. Panting from the far too quick ejaculation, his eyebrows pinched at the mess he had made. Streaks of milky release pooled near his navel, his hand and softening cock sticky and webbed from the moment of madness. As soon as he was certain his legs would work, he trudged into the bathroom to clean up with guilt weighing heavy in his gut.

A similar sensation burned in the pit of your stomach. Your chest heaved from the release you’d found, but it came at a price and now you were paying it.

You didn’t regret your actions but there was still a guilt associated with them. You were two unattached adults, and you couldn’t deny or sweep aside your attraction to Kento any longer, but he was Karin’s brother. He should be forbidden. You wouldn’t give oxygen to the mean voice in your head that said she deserved it for not telling you about him sooner.

The little pulsing aftershocks of your orgasm were fading, fingers sticky from how you had done your best to fuck yourself before switching to manipulating your sensitive pearl until white sparked in your vision. All the while you thought of how it would look to have his head between your thighs, his mouth on your pussy and your fingers tangled in his hair. Would he eat you sloppily or bite at the tender inside of your thighs? Would he welcome you rutting yourself against his mouth or would he hold your hips steady?

You sat up, legs wobbly when your feet fell to the floor. The bathroom wasn’t far and you needed to clean up and change your underwear. The reflection in the mirror over the sink looked hesitant despite the soft glow your skin exuded. A healthy dose of dopamine and the pump of blood circulating your body brightened you up even though it was the middle of the night, and you looked away with a troubled sigh.

The apartment was silent, your footsteps the only sound as you tiptoed barefoot into the kitchen for a glass of water before heading back to bed. Leaning your forehead against the cabinet, you listened to the rushing water for a moment or two longer than necessary before filling a glass and taking a sip. The sound masked the footsteps that approached, pausing then continuing on.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A strangled scream caught fast in your throat, muffled by the water now rushing down the wrong way and making you cough and splutter. You whirled on the spot and came face to chest with the man you had spent the last half hour pleasuring yourself to the thought of.

Kento was bare chested—a fact your bulging eyes couldn’t believe—with a faint smattering of ash-coloured hairs decorating between his meaty pectorals and leading down towards his stomach. You didn’t dare follow it any further for fear of knowing whether it went right down to his happy trail, a fact that most definitely would see you moaning aloud.

A pair of pale blue pyjama trousers hid the rest of him and you were grateful for that. He stalled next to the kitchen island, an unreadable expression on his face, and were his ears red? It would be comical if you weren’t burning with mortification. Your heartbeat raced so thunderously that it was amazing he couldn’t hear it from across the room.

“I… couldn’t sleep,” you finally offered once you could breathe again without coughing.

His eyes seemed to search your features, whether for signs of lying or something else, you weren’t completely sure. At last, he nodded and walked closer to grab his own glass and fill it with water.

The silence was oppressive, thick and charged with an energy that bristled down Kento’s spine. “Do you need anything?”

Your head snapped around so fast he was surprised you didn’t give yourself whiplash. If he didn’t know any better he would say that warmth seemed to fill your face. The question was innocent but perhaps… no. He was trying to see things that weren’t there.

“An extra pillow. A thicker duvet.” He elaborated when you didn’t answer.

Having this casual conversation was excruciating enough given what he had just done to the image of you in his mind. It was made worse with the realisation that the reality of you was so much more appealing than his imagination could ever conjure.

The almost comically oversized t-shirt you wore dragged nearly to your knees, with the sleeves reaching well past your elbows. It kept your modesty intact and the mystery of it all made his mouth water. Discovering the curves of your body, which parts dipped and the soft rolls of your body would be hours of fun if he were given the chance, not that he would be. He idly wondered if you would look this good in one of his shirts before dismissing the thought, or trying to.

His cock twitched in his clean briefs and he cleared his throat and turned away, terrified of pitching another tent when one was not wanted nor needed. Kento didn’t need to think about how close you were, how all he had to do was reach out a hand and discover whether you would step away or approach. He couldn’t decide which outcome would be the better one.

“No, I don’t need a pillow or anything like that,” you said finally, though you left the sentence hanging because you did want something, but you couldn’t tell him that. “I’m just adjusting to sleeping in a new place, I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, but don’t hesitate if there is something I can do to help.”

You could stop looking like a damn five course meal.

The thought was in your mind so suddenly you nearly gasped, instead, masking it by taking a long gulp of water and walking towards the hallway. You needed to put some distance between you, to retreat to the relative safety of your room and chastise yourself for being no better than a lustful bunny.

With a faux smile and an appreciative nod, you turned one last time to glance at him. “Thank you, Kento.”

Kento watched you slip out of sight, back along the darkened hallway and listened to the soft snick of your bedroom closing shut. He was throbbing, a hand drifted to his crotch to hide what was growing. That was the first time you had called him by his given name, and he liked it.

What a mess, he thought whilst returning to bed. His eyes never wavered from your door until he was safely behind his own. His guts still twisted in memory of his unsavoury actions, but something more pressing was on his mind as he screwed his eyes shut and prayed for sleep.

I want to hear my name from your lips again…

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Warm and Cozy

Nanami Kento x F!Reader

Summary: Nanami Kento did not show up at Shoko's Infirmary after a mission for his usual checkup so she sent you to his place to check up on him.

Warnings: Smut. 18+ I am not responsible for any underaged baby reading this. Wrap that willy before doing the silly.

Word Count: Your girl got horny.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Since when did you start doing house calls?"

"Since you stopped taking Shoko Senpai's calls and returned home instead."

Kento Nanami is still dressed in his blue shirt and tan blazer, holding the door with his hand and looking at you with zero emotions.

You can see the wretched dotted tie lying at the small dinner table behind him along with his glasses, not knowing why their site bothers you so much.

Nanami's free hand goes to his face to rub the incoming tiredness in his eyes. "Y/L/N, I'm fine. You should go back-"

"I've been threatened by senpai to heal you back to proper health or she'll fire me. So, if you don't mind, Nanami, I'd like to keep the job I finally love. Also, you are reeking of curses right now," you wring your nose in the end.

His brown eyes look at the resolution in your figure at his door before looking at the night sky behind you. He notices a moment in the corridor outside, his brows furrowing in some calculated thought.

The hand holding the door turns enough for Nanami to look at the time. And while he is contemplating something in his head, you cannot resist observing the six-foot-tall man; looking so different from what he was when you first met him.

He definitely worked out, your inner voice purrs inside your head, making you clench your office bag to resist any more stray thoughts.

"You are not going back alone at this time anyway," he murmured under his breath and stepped to the side.

"Oh!" you scoff, "I am pretty sure I can navigate my way around Tokyo at night just fine, sir. Or did you forget the time I-"

Nanami's senses are focused on the figure clad in a black hoodie coming from the other end of the corridor. The figure reached for something in the pocket of his hoodie and Nanami is quick to grab you by your arm- in the gentlest of way possible- and pull your surprised frame inside his humble abode.

You walk into the apartment and let your lungs inconspicuously breathe in the scent of Kento Nanami's safe space. And just as you expect, it smells of vanilla and beeswax.

Maybe it's the soap he uses?

The apartment is spotless. Everything has its place. Maybe the only thing out of place is you.

The entrance has you open to a cozy beige-clad living room. Walking a little further, you are standing in his open kitchen next to the kitchen island and looking at the table next to you where his tie and glasses lie.

Right opposite the kitchen is a space separated by a wooden structure made of hollow rectangular blocks housing plants, books on anatomy and humans, and a single empty space right in the middle.

The bed beyond that is covered in a grey duvet, astonishingly wrinkle-free.

Too clean, your nose wrinkles, it should have some-

Now what would make a bed that neat wrinkled and dirty, your inner voice whispers in your ear, spiking up your heartbeat.

"Would you like some tea?"

You jump at Nanami's voice, turning around towards the kitchen.

The man is already rolling his sleeves up and putting a kettle on.

"Yes, please," you plead softly, walking towards the kitchen island, and picking up his tie on the way.

"Did you meet the new kid yet?" you ask him as your hands and eyes get busy with the tie, wrapping it around your neck to try your hand at the few knots you learned in school.

Nanami opens up a drawer to take out two mugs- one purple and one grey- before turning towards the island.

There is this tiny second of a moment when he pauses to look at your fingers busy with the fabric that is practically a part of him. But he is quick to regain his usually stoic momentum even though his eyes keep going back to how carefully your fingers are running over his tie.

"Gojo's kid?"

You break into a chuckle, your eyes closing in the tiny flash of elation, never seeing how Nanami's eyes follow the moment of your head as it dips back and then tilts sideways.

"Well, you're not wrong in a way. His name is Yuuji. Yuuji Itadori. He's a really cute kid." You have finally made a passable knot and are trying to pass the other end through. "I was assigned to check him up yesterday and that boy made me laugh the entire time."

Nanami is just standing there with his arms folded when a whistle starts to form at the mouth of the kettle.

"And he is so pure, Nanami! He let me explain to him the culture samples in Senpai's lab and he looked at every single one of them with the same excitement as he did the first one."

The whistle goes harder on that kettle.

A fresh pack of Hojicha tea is opened. Nanami's rugged hands are careful with the bits they pick up to sprinkle in the earthen pot waiting for the brew time before the boiling water goes in.

"Oh, I love him! He's so precious." you declare in excitement.

You do not notice when Nanami comes to stand in front of you. You notice his hands first; when they come to take over the tie from your hands.

"I haven't washed it yet. It might still have some curse blood on it," Nanami slowly announces before delicately pulling the tie up your head.

"Oh...right. My bad."

Moving the tie away from your head, his hand unconsciously comes back to undo the mess he made in your hair, making you pause a breath.

Stop, you tell your insides, trying to shake away the gentle gestures as something more.

.

Your tools are neatly arranged on the dinner table. Nanami sits on a chair.

"See? Nothing to worry about," he declares in his usual nonchalant way as you are done examining his head and arms.

"Not so fast, love. I still have to scrutinise the rest of you," you warn him sweetly while you rub your palms together and walk behind the chair.

Nanami's head tilts a little in your direction.

"Okay....love."

Your hands freeze behind him. The word vibrates inside you with his voice.

Oh fu---haaa----Focus!

"I need to run the energy down your spine." You try your best to sound composed.

He undoes the first two buttons on his shirt and lifts away the collar, exposing his neck and shoulders to you.

"Tell me if it gets uncomfortable at any point," you announce softly before gently putting your hands on the back of his neck to observe for any anomalies.

What you don't get to see is the rugged hands of the Grade 1 sorcerer curling up into a fist at the first touch of your fingers on his exposed skin, or the goosebumps on his arms and back as your fingers do a little stroke at the nape to guide the energy down his spine.

"Oh, this is not good," you state, stepping away from him to look for something inside your bag.

"What?" Nanami almost blurts out, not really sure what the question was for- the 'not good' part or your hands- that seemed to bring him some much-needed relief- not touching him anymore.

Taking out a small maroon spherical crystal from your bag, you look Nanami straight in the eyes. "Take off your clothes. We're getting in the shower."

.

The shower head is fixed back into place by your fingers. "There," you exhale and come down from the stool to give one final look of satisfaction at your work.

Nanami is standing at his bathroom door, leaning on the doorframe, observing you. You are out of your overcoat, exposing your usual colourful self in a sweater, a skirt and skinny tights. This is the first time he has seen you wear a sweater in blue. It suits you, he thinks to himself, though it irks him to imagine if it ran up your waist like it is doing now- when you are adjusting the angle of the shower- when you travelled all the way from Jujutsu High to his place and if anyone else dared to see you like this.

"I've fixed the disinfectant in your shower head. Now just stand under the running water for about a minute or so and I'll take out the curse sample."

Nanami looks at the shower head and then at you. "How lethal is the infection?"

"Oh," you shake your head, "not lethal if we do this right now. Lethal if you let it sit overnight. I am going to take the sample back to Shoko Senpai for culture study and antidotes. It'll wash away in no time, don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried for me," he mumbles.

"Hm?" you furrow your brows in confusion, which melts away at the speed of light when the man unbuttons his shirt, taking it off and neatly stacking it in the laundry basket next to the sink.

It takes you some time to let the beauty of Kento Nanami's body seep into your mind. It also takes one long inhale to realise that Blazer had been hiding a sculpted Renaissance art underneath it.

But your brain goes to hell when he takes off his trousers and stands there in his black boxers, revealing some incredibly toned legs.

Oh, mother of curses!

Embarrassed for looking at him with budding sinful thoughts, you turn around in the shower temple to smack your head into the towel rack.

Cursing under your breath, you walk out of the tiny space with your gaze on the ground. "The infection is on your left shoulder blade...o-on the back."

"How bad is it?" Nanami tries to take a look at it in the wall-length mirror on the sink.

"I've handled worse. It's okay, you can trust me, Nanami." you shrug at his reflection in the mirror with a smile.

"I do, Y/L/N-" Nanami takes off his watch and places it beside the sink, leaving that sentence hanging, leaving you blinking at your own reflection for a moment.

Nanami steps into the shower temple, turning on the shower and letting his left arm and shoulder soak in the cold wetness of the water.

Soon enough the infection starts to wriggle and make screeching sounds as the energy in the water starts killing it.

Grabbing the container from your sample kit you step into the space. "I'm taking a sample now."

A few mud-coloured droplets that are still screeching are caught in the container while the rest of them are washed away in the water and down the drain, leaving Nanami's body healed to its original perfection.

"Feel better?"

Nanami does feel better. He can feel all the tiredness leaving his body with the water. He turns around to tell you the same.

You are looking at the container and about to walk out of the shower temple. "Let's get you back to the lab to Senp-"

Your words get stuck in your throat when your foot slips on the wet tile and your hands are grabbing at the air to break your fall.

The air does not break your fall. But Nanami does. His one hand is quick to cushion your head from hitting the wall while his other hand grabs your waist and pulls you to himself. Fearing not to make you fall for a second time, he backs into the wall behind him for support, bringing you both under the shower.

The container falls on the tiled floor as your hands grab onto his shoulders for support and your heart tries to get accustomed to the fear of the fall.

Neither of you move for a moment. Neither of you wants to in fear of doing something the other might now like in such close proximity to each other.

Close proximity? You both are grabbing onto each other as if your lives depend on it.

"Y/N? You okay?" Nanami finally whispers when he does not feel you move for a long while.

"Yes," you breathe, moving your face away from his shoulders- which are welcoming and hot- and facing him. "Sorry. I slipped."

Before Nanami can point out the futility of an apology that is not your fault, you smile and move your hands through his hair. "Aw shucks! I ruined your hair. It's wet now."

That does it for Kento Nanami. That one brush of your fingers in his hair reverberates through his whole body.

"Stop, Y/N," he refrains from growling.

Your hand immediately retreats from his head, pausing in the air and wondering with lost eyes if you did something wrong.

Ah, shit. He doesn't like his hair messed with.

"Stop giving me wrong ideas," he whispers, turning off the shower with his free hand.

"Wrong...what?" your voice barely rises above a whisper.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" You try to wriggle out of his hold, a little hurt at the assumptions you are making in your head. "I'm sorry for messing your hair."

"My hair isn't the only thing you are messing with."

You scoff, feeling offended. "I'll fix it, okay! Your hair and whatever else I messed with."

Nanami runs his hands through his hair and you have to gulp back some things that rather not come to your lips.

"Are you sure, Y/N?" Nanami looks you in your eyes with a stare you have not seen him with. And you don't want to curl up or back down, so you match his gaze with yours.

"One hundred per cent."

"So, would you be okay if I kissed you?"

The question catches you off guard. But not in the way it is supposed to. "Why would I not be okay?" you scoff. Only after you have given the answer does your brain realise what the question was.

Nanami does not waste time. His lips are on yours within seconds. His arm wraps itself around your waist to bring you closer to him.

Your hands do not know what to do at that sudden kiss. It is when Nanami draws himself away to look at you do they find themselves caressing the dip of his jaw and welcoming him back for another kiss.

Your tongue licks his lips, inviting him. Nanami lets his tongue dance with yours, bringing out a guttering moan from your throat; a moan that heats up something inside the sorcerer forcing him to lift you up by your thighs, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you out of the bathroom to his bedroom.

He is careful when putting you down on his bed.

Oh! The grey duvet.

But that duvet is the least of your concerns right now when the six-foot-tall man stands at the edge of his bed wiping the water off his face, breathing a little heavily and looking at you with...what was that emotion in his eyes?

"Tell me to stop if you don't want to..." he whispers.

"Don't," your voice cracks. You can visibly see him pause his breath for a second. "Don't stop."

The dim lighting in his bedroom is perfect for watching him as his shoulders relax.

He gets on the bed, one leg at a time, dipping the sheets around you with his weight, crawling to catch your lips with his.

Your hands are nervously working on your sweater's buttons under him. He moves away to help you with it, forcing out a tiny wince from you; getting a low chuckle out of him.

Your skirt's zipper is stuck, not budging when it should be sliding down like a seal on an iceberg. Nanami is being as gentle as possible with it but it's all going in vain.

That's when you feel him dig his fingers in over the edges of the fabric near the zipper, your skin heating up where his fingers are in contact with you.

"Y/N-" he looks up at you with embers of unflinching will in his brown eyes, "let me buy you another skirt tomorrow."

The sound of the rip registers after the fabric comes apart in your brain because your eyes are too busy studying how his shoulders tense up just to get you out of your clothes.

The tights are next. But they are taken off with the most delicate touch by the sorcerer. So is the underwear.

He starts by planting kisses on your thighs, moving slowly to the inside while making your nerves light up at every touch. And if that is not enough, his hands tease and massage them to relax you every time you tense up.

He inhales the smell of your core as if he is breathing in the fresh waterfalls in the forest, and then sits back up. Lifting you up by your waist, he rolls to the other side of the bed with him at the bottom and you at the top. He adjusts your thighs on either side of his waist before dragging you further up his torso.

You watch in confusion as he takes the support of the head of his bed and slides further down.

"Sit on me," he announces.

"....what?"

"Sit on my face," he does not stutter.

But you do. "N-Nanami."

He simply lifts your thighs up and brings your core closer to his face.

Do I weigh anything to you?

His hands push your thighs apart, letting him get better access to you. You are not putting your weight down and taking the support of the headboard instead, worried about suffocating him.

But the first flick of his tongue on your clit makes you jump up.

Nanami is quick to anchor your thighs with his hands, forcing you to put all your weight on him. He starts what seems like an incantation being written with his tongue inside you.

Sucking and licking, flicking and teasing, he is your very own roller coaster of pleasure tonight, making you writhe with pleasure under his touch.

And lo...you can feel the wetness gather around your walls.

"Nanami-" you are trying your best to breathe right- "I'm gonna-Nanami. Wait. I'm gonna pee. Ah!"

This man keeps touching all the right nerves again. And again. And again.

You are being driven to the edge. "Nanami stop!"

And he stops for a minuscule second, giving you a window to lift yourself up and flop on your back next to him, trying to bring your lungs back to normal.

"Did it hurt?"

Nanami's hand comes to move the stray strands of your hair away from your face glowing with sweat under the dim bedroom light.

He is looking over you, half up on his arm while his other hand is caressing your face. "Y/N, did it hurt?"

You shake your head. "No. No, I just felt I was about to pee and I didn't want...to do it...over you."

You can see his lips glisten with your juices. He closes his eyes and licks his lips before rolling to the other side, sitting up at the edge and eventually getting up.

The light coming from the bathroom perfectly draws out the cuts of the tensed muscles all over his body while his back is still towards you.

Wait...is it over?

You can see him curl his hands into fists before releasing them and finally walking the length of his bed to come to your side.

You rise up on your elbows.

It's over, isn't it? Your inner voice is smacking you left and right, blaming you for stopping the pleasure harp of a lifetime just as it was about to reach its crescendo.

He goes for the chest next to his bed, opens the top drawer and takes out a small packet that glistens under the scarce light.

"Next time-" he removes his shorts, freeing his already hard length, and gets up on the edge of the bed in front of you- "when you are on top of me-" he tears the packet with his teeth and takes out a condom, pumping his length with his free hand- "I have already played out the probabilities of me suffocating in between your thighs-" he puts the condom on his length and then rests his arms on your raised knees, finally looking into your eyes with a passion you have not seen in him before.

"Next time-" he bends a bit forward to lean in for a kiss and undo the hook of your bra- "waterboard me."

Your bra is on the floor. His hands cup your breasts perfectly, massaging them as his kisses grow intense with every passing second. Then he moves onto your neck, biting it in places before licking the heat away.

Parting from you, he takes one pillow and places it under your head, another between you and the headboard and the last one under your lower back.

Letting his cock gather the juices on your edges, he looks at you while taking his time to enter you.

Both of you feel your breaths cemented in your throats letting you get accustomed to each other. He leans closer to you, planting a kiss on one of your cheeks while caressing the other with his hand. "You okay?"

You nod, feeling your walls adapt to his length.

Nanami drives out before slowly driving himself back in, giving you time to adjust to the pace. Once he knows you are comfortable, he lifts up your legs in the air and brings them to rest on his shoulders.

This time when he drives himself into you, you can feel your core light up with a different brand of intensity, leaving you to gasp for air and letting a moan slip from your throat.

Nanami smirks to himself and plants a kiss on your ankle. He has found your spot. He increases the pace a bit, loving every second of your view; as your breasts bounce to his rhythm, as you try to hold onto his duvet and his pillow, as your eyes close and your head dips back when you feel the pleasure spots light up and your moans get louder. He is loving every moment of you because you are his pleasure.

"K-Kento!"

His name from your mouth feels like a prayer, making his core shudder.

"Yes, love," he sputters between his strokes.

"I'm-ah-"

You don't get to finish your sentence.

He can feel your walls tighten around his cock, undoing his restraints and making him grunt.

He fastens his pace, the squelching and clapping of your bodies growing wilder. Taking both your legs in the hold of one arm, he lets his other hand go down to your core. His fingers find your clit and rub it to let you have your release as he starts feeling his length swell up.

Soon enough, the damn you feel rising up breaks, leaving you with shuddering legs.

Nanami elongates your orgasm as he feels his length at the edge of the eruption. Soon enough, he finds his high with one guttering growl leaving his lungs.

Sweaty and breathless, the both of you.

Nanami is spent; lying on top of you.

You run your hands through his hair as he rests his head on the nape of your neck to catch his breath.

Getting up on his arms, he looks at you with concern. "Are you okay?"

You can't help but smile as the edge of your eyes water up. Cupping his face in your hands, you bring him closer for a kiss.

Nanami carefully gets his length out of you before going straight for the bathroom. You hear the tap run for a few seconds before he comes out with a wet towel to clean you up.

The condom is disposed and you are directed into the bathroom to take a shower. Nanami joins you a few minutes later, planting soft kisses on your back.

Layered up in his oversized black t-shirt and grey shorts, you come out to find the grey sheets gone and a purple duvet waiting to greet you.

Just as you are looking at the new sheets, a needle of anxiety pricks you in your chest.

Do I stay? Do I dress up and walk out? Is...this...was this a one-night...

The thought makes your heart sink.

"Get in," Nanami orders you as he comes out of the door in a white t-shirt and grey shorts, raising the duvet from the edge for you.

The sinking heart rises up a little from the depths of darkness.

You get under the sheets and watch as he moves- first to the edge of the bed to keep something in the empty partition cubicle, and then- to the other side, switches off the lights and gets under the sheets.

You slide down the sheets while your heart rises a bit further.

You feel his arm looking for you under the sheets, finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

He extends his arm to let you rest your head on it.

The light from the city outside is enough for him to watch your face glow and your eyes search for something in his. He moves your hair away from your face and caresses your cheeks.

"Nanami?" you whisper, still not taking your eyes off him.

"Hm?"

"Do you...like me?"

Silence.

The calm of the apartment is broken by Nanami's chuckle.

"Oh. Y/N-" the depth of his voice reverberates through his home as he exhales your name still titillates your core- "what will I do with you?!"

The maroon crystal rests on the once-empty space in the partition in Nanami Kento's home.

[tired-biscuit]

i think bakugou likes to be babied a little bit.

nothing too drastic, of course, i'm thinking about some simple cuddling behind closed doors after he's had a very long, very tiring day at work. with him pressing you tightly against the mattress of your shared bedroom late at night; your legs comfortably spread just wide enough for him to fit his burly body in-between, and whose hefty weight you can feel resting on your stomach and chest the moment he lands it there.

so all of it is so simply cozy; intimate. your souls are merging without either of you putting in the effort to actually meld them, further strengthening the bond between you. running your fingers through his thick hair that's still slightly damp from the shower he's just finished taking, you stare at the dark ceiling with a sleepy smile ghosting over your lips as you listen to your boyfriend's breathing. it's turned slow, almost languid.

peaceful.

moments pass as the shadows continue to dance on the bedroom walls, and your sleepy smile breaks into a grin when he inhales deeply and sighs in the exact same way most dogs do when they're tired from a long day of playing outside. his skin is completely bare underneath the thin duvet; so warm. he's got nothing else on except for the thin golden chain that you've gifted him as an anniversary present for your fourth year together, and that's now dangling loosely around his neck.

the pretty jewellery is also warm to the touch as you untangle your hand from the ash blonde spikes to stroke down the back of his neck instead. there's no pendant. you didn't want it to be too tacky because you know he prefers to keep things simple, but who knows... maybe he'll add to the gold by hanging a ring on it someday. maybe.

the corners of your mouth twitch at the thought as the heel of your palm glides along the valley of his spine, following along the subtle dip in-between his broad shoulders which you've completely memorized by now. your fingers trace the familiar remnants of his past scars; some thin and barely visible, others so deeply etched into him that they'll surely brand him until the day he dies.

rubbing his bare skin like this fills the room further with his potent scent. he smells fresh; like citrus and something pleasantly sharp that you can't possibly pinpoint for the life of you, but you know it barely matters because it'll all be overtaken by the signaturely sweet smell of caramel at some point anyway.

all that matters is the touch you give. the contact you provide.

so neither of you talks as you hold him like this. you just anchor him; petting him all over, and allowing him to piece himself back together in the dark in his own pace. he's content with just listening to the sound of your heartbeat as it gently lulls him to sleep, is satisfied by feeling your hands stroke him all over his back; coaxing the strained, aching muscles there to finally relax.

he loves you so much, he hopes you know that. you're the only one who gets to see him so vulnerable like this. who still hears him even without a single word uttered into the darkness, who gets to hold him like he's a small kitten in dire need of help, instead of a supposed brute of a man, who's inching towards his thirties and who should apparently serve as his own pillar as far as social norms go.

but fuck social norms, truly. he holds onto you a little bit tighter as sleep begins to creep up on him, calloused fingers sneaking underneath the hem of your dynamight t-shirt just so he can stroke your sides a little bit before he passes out. he does it so that he can pay you back, at least in some way for staying up so late and waiting for him to return home safely. for actually giving him a sense of home to return to in the first place.

and oh, how sweet; your heartbeat quickens at his touch, he can hear it. it kisses his cheek, repeatedly pecking the skin that's been tinted with a shade of soft pink because of the warmth shared between you. it's calming and soothing to him, just like your doting hands are. just like your very existence is.

so bakugou finally allows himself to fall asleep because of the comfort your existence provides, with his consciousness ridden of the many horrors his job brings. nothing matters but you and your touch, and the sound of your heart, and your breathing, your warmth and your scent. all of it together wipes his mind entirely clean.

still, there's only one more fleeting thought that flashes through him before he fully succumbs to his dreams. one that brings a mere hint of a smile upon his lips.

you love him, too. you truly do.

[moondustpugh]

Okey, I just saw your re-post of the music video of expresso by Sabrina Carpenter. And it occurred to me (bc you do a great job basing fics on songs) that you should write a fic of Joe head over heals for reader based on the song of expresso. Just giving you and idea, if you don't want to is totally Okey ❤️

Espresso

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe's thinking about you every night. Is it that sweet? You guess so.

Author's Note: To celebrate 300 followers, here's a little gift. Thank you all for the love! Currently, I have been obsessed with this song and Sabrina. So, I'm so glad that you requested this! Thank you for this! Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: 18+, smut

Wordcount: 2.1K

It was midnight. 

Joe had been tossing and turning for about an hour already, and he couldn’t seem to sleep at all. He took a deep breath and turned his body so that he was laying on his back and gazed up at the ceiling. The light from the lamp post outside slightly reflected through the crack of his window curtains. The night was quiet, and his mind kept pondering about the thought of you. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Joe whispered through your bare skin as he left repeated kisses on your bare back. 

You giggled softly, looking over your shoulder. You were laying on your stomach, and Joe had moved himself closer to you. His fingers gently tugging on the duvet to expose your bare back, his lips finding your soft skin. He planted soft kisses all over your back, his long lashes tickled your skin as his fingers stroked your back softly. 

“I can’t get enough of you, I swear.” Joe murmured. 

Chuckling softly, you turned your body to face him. Joe hovered over you as you pulled the duvet closer to your chest. He grinned happily as he leaned down and kissed you softly. His hands slowly slid the duvet away from your naked body and his hands roamed your sides. A small moan escaped your lips as he parted from the kiss and trailed his lips down and traced the line of your jaw. Then, his lips found your neck as he sucked on the skin lightly, making you moan again in his ear. 

“God, I love that sound.” He murmured through the kiss. 

“Hmm…” Smiling through the kiss, you curled your fingers through his hair and pulled him down close to you. 

Joe pressed his face on your chest, planting a soft kiss on it. If anyone would ask him, he would prefer to stay in your arms forever. He could happily stay here and just indulge in every part of you. However, that was not how life works. So now, he was laying in his bed alone and couldn’t sleep at night because all he could think about was you. All he could think about was your soft skin under his touch. The sounds you would make in his ear, and your soft lips on his skin and his lips. 

God, he was so head over heels. 

He didn’t even realize it until now. You were running in his mind 24/7 and when he tried to push the thought of you away, he only missed you even more. Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he saw that it was 12:30 am already. Pursing his lips, he opened up his messages and stared at the screen for a moment. 

Still awake?

He sent the message and waited. After a few minutes, he saw the three bubbles popping up on the screen. A smile immediately tugged on his lips. 

You were working late because you had some reports that still needed to finish. Your mind has been somewhere else, and you have been trying so hard not to stress too much about your work. Though, here you were up late and finishing up reports for work. When your phone vibrated next to you on your desk, and you saw Joe’s name appear on your screen, you immediately grinned happily. You needed a little distraction after a long day.

Still working. Why are you still awake?

The text message that you sent to Joe sent a warm feeling in his stomach as he smiled at your text. 

Can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. 

Biting your lower lip, you grinned at his message. You couldn’t help but think how the last two months that you have been seeing Joe, you have been so happy. You didn’t even care about the fact that your friends kept telling you to be careful because he was an actor. That he might just immediately change his mind and find someone else. Though, that wasn’t what it was at all. 

From the way he kept calling you every night, you didn’t have the time to feel insecure at all. He kept telling you that he was always thinking about you, and he couldn’t even sleep because he only wanted to be next to you. 

He was too sweet. 

You couldn’t relate to the desperation that your friends would act when it came to their boyfriends. 

Aww! :( Want me to come over? 

You bit your nails, grinning cheekily as you waited for him to answer. Joe, who immediately sat up on his bed, reached over to turn his lamp on. He stared at your text and then shifted his eyes towards his clock on his bedside table. 

Yes, please. 

He stared at the text for a moment before deleting it. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he acting like a 16 year old boy? At his big age too. He couldn’t help but chuckle at himself for acting so stupid over you. Rubbing his forehead softly, he stared at his screen and didn’t know what to reply to your text. He never acted like this before, not even with his exes. He didn’t know what it was that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about you. He couldn’t sleep because of you. He kept thinking about how beautiful you were. He kept thinking how smart you were and such a hard worker. He couldn’t really describe it, but he was just so deep in his feelings for you since you two had started seeing each other. He was feeling so drunk of you like he had drunk ten espresso shots every night before bed. 

It’s okay. It’s late. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?

He typed the text message and sent it to you. He was right though. It was literally past midnight, and he was bothering you because he couldn’t sleep. 

What an idiot. 

Exhaling a sharp breath, he set his phone down on his bedside table and gazed up at the ceiling again. After a few minutes of silence and no reply, he figured you had fallen asleep. His mind wandered back again at the thought of you. 

“Don’t be cheeky.” Joe laughed, pressing his face on your neck.

You had told him a dirty joke, and he couldn’t stop laughing. The way he was literally hooked with your humor all the time. The one little joke made him all flushed and flustered that he was hiding his face from you.

“That’s not fair. Don’t hide your cute face from me.” You grinned, lifting his head and cupping his face between your hands.

Joe’s chocolate button eyes sparkled as he gazed down at you with a loving smile. You loved seeing him like this, and you certainly love the fact that you could make him act like this. 

Sighing, Joe closed his eyes and pushed the memory away. 

He needed to sleep. 

This was getting ridiculous. 

Pulling the duvet closer to him, Joe settled himself comfortably in his bed and closed his eyes. He forced himself to really sleep and as soon as he started drifting off, he felt the mattress of the empty side of his bed dip. For a moment, he thought he was just dreaming. Then, familiar arms wrapped around his torso, and he knew exactly who it was even if his eyes were closed. 

He was thanking his little stars that he gave you that spare key for his flat.

“It’s late.” He murmured, holding in his smile as he pulled you closer to his body. 

You let out a soft approving hum, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. Even in the dark, you could see his beautiful facial features as you softly stroked his cheek with your fingers. 

“You can’t sleep lately.” You whispered. “I’m worried about that.”

“It’s your fault, you know.” Joe teased.

You laughed softly, moving yourself on top of him, straddling his hips. 

“Yea?” You trailed kisses on the line of his jaw and then down his neck. 

Joe had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from moaning. He swore if he was dreaming right now, he would hate his brain in the morning for giving this much of a vivid dream about you. He was already folding for you, and his brain was now betraying him even more? 

This was so foul of his dreams to do to him. 

“Yes.” Joe gasped the word as you ran your hands down his bare chest. “I think I’ve gone mad.”

You smiled through his skin as his fingers curled around the strands of your hair as you kissed his bare chest. You loved that you could wrap him up around your finger, and he would just fold under every kiss you left on his skin. You never had anyone act like this over you, and you were enjoying every minute of it. 

He was adorable like this. 

“Hm…” You smiled, grinding against his hard member that was between your legs. “I can help you lose your mind even more.”

Joe’s fingers immediately curled at the back of your head, pulling you down for a hungry kiss. Smiling, you giggled softly through the kiss as he tugged on your shirt and pulled it over your head. Soon, he was tugging on your pants too and it joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. 

You reached your hand down to grab his member, wrapping your fingers around it and slowly slid himself inside of you. Both of you gasped softly as you helped him thrust inside of you. His lips were sloppily kissing you, his tongue licking your bottom lip. 

“Shit…” Joe groaned softly as he trailed kisses down your neck. 

Your hands found his headboard as your pace quickened, and it only made Joe moan louder as he found his lips on your nipple, sucking on it softly. 

“Ah—Joe.” You arched your back as he moved deeper inside of you. 

He could hear your voice sounding distorted and far away as he continued to suck your nipple and then trailed his lips up on your neck, sucking the skin softly there. He wasn’t the kind of man that loved to leave a love mark, but he couldn’t help but leave one on your neck and then on your chest. You moaned softly as you leaned down and buried your face on his neck, feeling your walls tightened around him. 

“Love, you’re so tight.” He moaned. 

You kissed him hungrily as he thrusted faster inside of you, your legs trembling and feeling the pleasure build up in your stomach. Joe had forgotten everything around him. He had forgotten what time it was. He had forgotten about the fact that this all started because he couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

You were here. 

You were really here. 

You were in his arms, and you were making him forget his name. He could feel the pleasure build up in his stomach as he flipped the both of you over, and he was hovering over you. He thrusted deeper and faster inside of you, your toes were curling and your nails were scratching down his bare back. 

“Come for me.” You whispered in his ear, making Joe tremble from the way your voice sounded in his ear. 

He usually was the one who was able to make his exes feel like this but with you, he was weak. He would do anything for you. He never felt this way about anyone before. With shaky hands, he reeled you in his arms and pressed your body against his flushed one. 

“Right there, baby.” You moaned in his ear. “Don’t stop.”

You gasped, your nails digging into his skin deeper as pleasure crashed over the both of you. Stars exploding at the back of your eyes as you screamed his name. Both of your bodies shuddered, both panting together as Joe collapsed his heavy body against yours. 

“Holy shit.” Joe cursed under his breath, still panting. “You’re literally amazing.” 

You smiled, trying to catch your breath. You stroked his curly hair away from his sweaty forehead and planted a soft kiss there. 

“Now, you could sleep.” You joked, making Joe scoff at your little comment. 

“No.” He whispered, pressing his face on your neck and nibbled on the skin lightly. “We’re gonna be up all night.”

You grinned widely, flipping the both of you over so you were on top of him again. 

“Hmm… Don’t challenge me.” You smiled deviously under the dark. 

“You’re the one who’s been keeping me up all night, so don’t challenge me.” Joe retorted back. 

You laughed softly, kissing him hungrily again and grabbing the duvet from behind you. Covering the both of you with the sheet, Joe tangled his fingers through your hair as you both blissfully enjoyed each other’s flushed bodies against each other. 

Time had frozen, and Joe didn’t care if he needed to be up early tomorrow morning. You were literally the espresso shot that could keep him up all day and night. 

Somehow, that was enough for him. 

********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

[storiesoflilies]

sunday newspapers

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader.

warnings: none, just a lil fluffy piece.

a/n: series link. inspired by @teddybeartoji :3

lazy sunday mornings were the best time of the week.

she’d always wake up gently to smell of coffee, the warm aroma always making her nose crinkle, and it was almost always accompanied by the scent of toji’s newspapers. it was unique, so undeniably him, and she never had to open her eyes to know that her husband had already been up to buy her a fresh cup of steaming coffee from the convenience store around the corner, along with the sunday papers for him to peruse.

the loud rustling of toji turning over a page encouraged her to crack open the lids of her eyes just a sliver, and she croaked out a low, “mornin, baby.”

another loud rustling noise ensued, and she knew that toji was setting down his paper on the nightstand, folding it up neatly to prevent any further creases. she knew he hated whenever a big fat line haphazardly ran through the middle of whatever he was trying to read.

“morning, my love,” he mumbled, his front pressed tightly into her back as he peppered kisses over her bare arm. “how’d you sleep?”

she only hummed in response, turning around to face toji and curling up into him. it didn’t matter how many times they’d do this on a sunday, she would never, ever get sick of their routine. it was warm, soft, and theirs.

“your coffee’s gonna get cold,” toji whispered into the crook of her neck, lips brushing faintly against her skin. she shivered at the loss of his warmth as he moved to settle back onto his side of the bed.

she sat up slowly, pulling up the duvet to cover her bare chest, although she knew toji would whisk it off her in a flash as soon as he noticed. tenderly, she sipped her still-hot coffee from the paper cup and scrolled through her phone. toji huffed softly beside her, closing over his newspaper with a dramatic flare. she looked over to find him pinching the bridge of his nose and tightly squeezing his eyes shut.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, frowning, and set her phone down on her lap.

he groaned, exhaling heavily. “nothin’, sweets. just have a headache is all.”

“oh, do you want some paracetamol?”

“no, i’m good. promise.”

“you don’t look good, toji.”

toji huffed again and rolled over to her, surprising her by uncharacteristically throwing his papers onto the floor. he pulled down the duvet from her chest and settled his head right over her heartbeat. “i’m fine,” he mumbled, his breath tickling her skin.

stubborn.

she ran her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching and massaging his scalp, and toji’s breathing slowed as he relaxed further into her touch. he would crack in just a moment; a sizzling, sputtering egg yolk on a hot, oily pan.

“it hurts me more often now,” toji finally admitted, looking up at her with those big green eyes of his, black lashes framing his orbs.

“what do you mean, more often?” she asked, alarm evident in her voice.

toji shook his head, “my head hurts. not all the time, but enough of the time.”

“wha- how long have you been feeling like this?”

“a month? maybe two.”

“well, is it just random pain?”

“i don’t know, but it’s getting worse, especially on Sundays.”

especially on sundays…

“do your eyes hurt too, by any chance?”

toji nodded silently, burying his face into her chest. “i know what you’re going to say now. that’s why i didn’t tell you sooner.”

“well, toji, maybe you should just listen! you’re always squinting when you read, i’ve told you to get reading glasses ages ago. we’re both not getting any younger, you know?” she chided gently.

so stubborn…

he only grunted in response, as if even acknowledging that statement would be admitting defeat, and toji fushiguro really did not like to lose. but even revealing to her that his head hurt was a crack in his stone foundations, a little opening for her to wiggle her way through and make him see sense.

when he unwillingly got up from the bed to go to the bathroom, she refolded his newspapers for him, went to the kitchen, got him a glass of water and two paracetamol tablets, and patiently bided her time.

exactly a week had passed, and she found herself lazily stretching, like a content cat lounging in the rays of warm sunshine through a window. the familiar smell of coffee and newspapers wafted through her nostrils, and she smiled as her eyelids fluttered open.

“mornin,” toji’s deep baritone greeted from beside her, and she smiled again as she wrapped her arms around his bicep, snuggling into his side.

“morning,” she sighed happily, peeking her eyes open to skim over what he was reading. “what’s happening in the world today?”

“hmm, everything’s shit,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“oh, it can’t be all bad, can i- oh my.”

toji looked down sharply at her, with bright ruby-red, narrow square glasses balanced in the middle of his nose. “ah ah! no.”

she stifled a giggle, biting her lip and rubbing his forearm. “i wasn-”

“ah no, not a single word.”

“bu-”

“shut it.”

a giggle escaped her lips despite her best efforts, and toji glared down at her through his glasses. it was so comical that she couldn’t help but burst into a fit of tinkling wind chime laughter, and toji’s ears turned pink.

“these were the only ones they had at the store,” he mumbled shyly, folding his paper onto his lap and taking off the glasses.

“oh, no, baby!” she cooed, taking the cheap plastic glasses from him and carefully maneuvering them back onto his face. “you’re so cute.”

she squished his cheeks between her hands and smiled sweetly as she gazed deep into her husbands eyes. this was life at its finest, those sweet sunday mornings they spent together. it didn’t matter if their smile lines were deepening or their crow’s feet made beautiful patchworks of wrinkles on their faces, or even if their eyes were starting to struggle to read and there were flecks of grey in their hair.

none of it mattered; it was still life – their life – and it would always be beautiful.

she suddenly attacked him with quick kisses all over his toji’s face, and his nose scrunched up in mock annoyance. “eugh! stop that.”

“no,” she laughed in between kisses. “you’re just too cute, i can’t resist.”

toji huffed, holding his newspaper high above in the air so her onslaught wouldn’t accidentally hurt the delicate pages. “yeah, yeah -hmph!- i love you too, sweets.”

“i love you more, mister fushiguro. especially with your red granny glasses.”

“oh, shut up.”

general taglist (open): @tadabzzzbee

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[softshuji]

𝟎𝟔:𝟏𝟏𝐀𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔

Title: Smile for me

Summary: Rindou knows he's not getting any younger, but old insecurities are hard to fight- luckily for him, you're there to kiss them better. Link for masterlist here!

cw: afab!reader, talks of insecurities, pet names (kitten, princess), Ran being a stellar big brother, Rindou getting embarrassed easily and being a simp lol, some brief kissing and mentions of sex (nothing explicit), he's literally so cute and sexy I can't stand it. Reblogs appreciated!

Rindou is perturbed.

He’s used to waking an hour before you, 7AM with the sun still making a haphazard climb over the windowsill, all the weak and watery light he watches fall over the crest of your sloping shoulder from behind, his cheek pressed to your hair. He hopes you don’t notice, the alarm of his phone buzzing and snoozed, five minutes he thinks he can spare to spend here, you unaware of how his arms tighten around you, the shaky breath that comes from his dry lips and all the love he never mentions that he wishes was easier to talk about to you. 

You stir, slide a hand along his muscled forearm, the slight frown of your scrunched eyebrows loosening, a breath blown between parted lips and you settle again into sleep as Rindou untangles your legs from under the warm covers.

He hates it, this moment right here. It’s a visceral lump that sits in his throat when he pulls the covers back over you, slides your hair to the side to kiss just under your ear, your cheek, a finger that comes up to touch at you, a stray eyelash he pretends he’s lifting, because it’s easier when you can’t see. 

‘Mhm Rin,’ you murmur and stir, turning over to reach to where he should be, the indent of him in the memory foam where you hope your hand can feel the smooth muscle of him, soft hair and warm breath, the ridges of his shoulders where your arms want to come around. 

He watches you, bashfully, hiding a smile and embarrassed somehow, this many years later, knowing all there is to know about you, the wounds you’ve cleaned that even Ran hasn’t seen, the fights and arguments that led to the two of you walking out, coming back, kissing and apologies you’d never doubted were just there, days that started out tense and ended with the two of you with your foreheads pressed together.

He hates shutting the door on you like that, sprawled on your stomach, holding the duvet close to your chest, your face turned towards the sun that slips in through the slat in the window, a gentle breeze that pushes the curtains inwards, the peace he is leaving behind that he’s never sure he’ll live to see again.

When he pads to the bathroom, unceremoniously in fact, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the tufts of his hair sticking up one side, tired eyes lined with shadows that drag down his skin, it is knowing that fact, that it could be the last time, that he’s not lucky enough to maintain what he loves and needs so much in any way that doesn’t mean pain.

He does need you, and he’d spent so long denying that fact, the cold and dark nights made warmer by drinks and drugs and parties that never really meant anything outside of those singular moments in time, when his mind is just so far away from the bottle or the glass or lines on the flat tables.

You like this routine of his though. Coffee made for you that sits in the pot till you wake, despite his absence, warm towels pulled from the dryer, leftover dishes washed and dried, the diligence he hopes is able to communicate what he can’t, a kiss left lingering on your lips, a “see you later kitten” that never feels sufficient enough when he leaves and his car backs out of the driveway. He stops every morning before driving off, a last look at the house, at the window where the blinds sway in the breeze, a secret pang in his heart when he remembers he’s left his heart in your palm.

But something else is on his mind right now and it bothers him with a lance of sharp pain when he sees the crease along his cheek that he swears is a little too new for his liking.

He runs a finger along his cheek, along his chin, golden honeyed skin that stretches taut when he frowns at his reflection in the mirror, a minor razor graze nicking along his jaw and the hard slam of his heart cracking along his ribs when the mark along his cheek doesn’t fade. 

‘Huh?’ he says, leaning forward, towards the mirror that fogs with his breath, a hand braced on the porcelain sink, the purpling strands of his hair pulled back by a baby blue headband. Yours, obviously. He’s long since lost the stubbornness of being insecure and uptight about these things, the fabricated fragilities that became too tiring to have when he realised it made you happy to break down those barriers he was so determined to keep. That being said, Rindou knows he’s not as young as he used to be, that the days and weeks of life have caught up to him, whether he’ll admit it or not. It’s been years since you met and the days and weeks of new love have long gone, leaving a soft and peaceful security in your wake.

His finger trails along the crease, a curve like an eyelash along his cheek, cupped around his mouth, the wisp of shorter hairs kissing at his cheekbones as he frowns, confusion and uncertainty slipping over his skin.

He avoids covering it up despite this, the ample tubes and pots of various skincare that neatly line your medicine cabinet stay untouched, but he gingerly touches his cheek, lets a finger trail along the crease even still, wondering if you’ll notice when you kiss him goodbye, sitting up in bed now, the pastel lilac duvet slipping off your shoulders. When the sun brushes against your skin, he halts at the door, the telltale marks and bites left on your neck and chest that leave a thick and dizzying desire in his throat. 

He is quiet when he meets Ran an hour later, a sullen type of silence that even Sanzu cannot coax from him, all pointed glances and chewing lips and half hidden behind his hair, as if Ran cannot sense the uncertain and tenuous scowling that he hates he’s still doing this many years later. 

Ran slides his chair along, feet propped up on the table, a glass of something dark held between two fingers, deliberate glances from the side of the viridescent violet of his eyes now falling on his Brother who sits back with his arms tightly folded over his chest.

‘So….’ he starts, and leans back in his seat, an eye trained on the way Rindou shuffles further into the leather, haunches and hackles rising on instinct, the turn of his eyes fixed on the mahogany table. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?’

Rindou stiffens, turns his cheek away, the flash of his eyes burning luminous as he sinks into the chair and really, it’s silly, he knows this and he hates that he cycles so often around to this behaviour, with Ran, with you, the same vulnerability that’s too terrifying to show despite all you have seen together, as if he is any less just because he feels.

Ran sighs, blows a forceful gust of minty breath between his lips and raises an eyebrow in deliberation. ‘Maybe I can help, whatever it is,’ he says. ‘Did you have a fight or something?’

Rindou churns the words, grinds them between his teeth, soft whispers that take effort, that take the force of him chewing them out from the lump in his throat, all the insecurity that he loathes, that has him stiffening under his Brother’s weighted stare. ‘No, nothing like that.’

‘So? What was it then?’

‘Nothing, just forget it.’

‘Not going to happen Little Brother.’ And Ran grabs the arm of Rindou’s chair, pulls while his foot hooks under the leg, Rindou moving closer despite his ambivalence, and Ran almost chuckles when he audibly hears him scowl, tut under his breath in defiance, feet planted on the floor and dragging across the plush carpet.

He softens a fraction here, a soft and gentle squeeze of his heart, the lump in his throat that seems to scrape against his thoughts when he realises the resistance is so futile because it’s always been like this, Ran pulling him along, coaxing the words from him in a way he’s never given gratitude for before despite how much he cares. 

He has a memory, a vague flash of an image behind his eyes, the two of them running, huddled together, Ran coaxing Rindou to show him the cuts and bruises from his overzealous moments during fights, a soft and subdued “you’re such an idiot” that was always laced with affection, a plaster and bandage that Ran was always so quick to have on hand for his little Brother, food that he never ate so Rindou always had more.

‘You’re going to laugh,’ he says and hates it, weak and shamed as the sun climbs over the buildings, the whir of the heating that permeates the otherwise silent room, a raucous laugh from Sanzu that resonates through the gap in the door.

‘Yeah you’re right I am.’

‘See, I knew it-’

‘I’m kidding!’ A beat and Ran turns his chair, stretches his long legs under the table, sitting upright now and turning entirely towards his Brother who blows a wisp of wisp of hair from his forehead. ‘I’m not going to laugh.’

A beat, again, Rindou sharing a glance, a narrowing of his eyes through the individual strands of his hair, conflicted thoughts and fears bouncing around in his head before he uncrosses his arms and flexes his lithe fingers on the arms of the chair.

‘Well?’ Ran says and slides the glass along the table, a faint and chiming click as it meets the decanter. 

Rindou knows of course. With Ran, it’s always been a lot harder to tell than it has with him. Ran hides many things well and there’s the assumption that he’s so high above, so far removed, impossibly perfect in all things, that there can never be anything wrong with a man like him who has so much and wants for so little.

But Rindou’s the only one who has been there during those moments between. Gels and creams that Ran diligently applies, as if he can make himself something more than human, nights spent with the three of you sharing confessions by the fireside that the others have no knowledge of, moments in which Ran is not a Haitani, neither of them are, moments in which they are just brothers setting aside their burdens for the promise of light.

He looks at him now, tired eyes that still shine with mirth and exuberance despite himself, despite how exhausted he is and pretends not to be, the weight of all he has seen and shouldered for the both of them, the rock he has carried so that Rindou can stretch his hands a little further, be a little more, worry a little less and his heart fills with something that tastes like gratitude, this many years later when the two of them have grown out of petty jealousies and hurts that never mean anything.

‘Well- it’s just- it’s this okay?’ And Rindou turns, towards the floor to ceiling window, the weak and watery sunlight now dancing over his skin, a hand moving to pull back his hair as he glowers still, chewing haphazardly on his lip in anxiety. He lifts his other hand, touches at the crease in his cheek and points, as if accusatory, at the sharp indent of the skin, a little removed from the dimple in his cheek he’s still so embarrassed by.

Ran frowns, shuffles forward in his chair, eyes narrowing and searching, a slight shake of his head that has his earring tinkling, his rings catching the light as he rests his chin in his palm. ‘I don’t understand, what are you referring to here?’

‘What- what do you mean?’ Rindou points again, a finger zeroing in on the sharp crease, the curve towards his mouth he’s spent the last hour trying to hide behind his permanent scowl. ‘It’s this- this stupid wrinkle right here, I don’t understand how it got here.’

Ran pauses, the light slipping across his eyes, a slow and calculated smirk spreading across his lips as he reaches for the decanter again, deliberate movements that mirror the rise and fall of his eyebrows over the glass. ‘Oh…I think I understand now.’

And he takes a sip, eyes lifting from the glass to Rindou now settling back into a scowl, arms folded again, the crease hidden behind the wisps of hair falling over his forehead.

‘So what is it?’ he asks and purses his lips.

Ran smiles, genuinely, casts a glance towards the window where the sun makes a steady climb over the buildings, a swath of shadow that looms bright over the floor, the sparkle of buttery sunlight falling on his skin as he arches, catlike on the chair and leans back with his eyes closed. ‘Ask your wife when you get home. She’ll know.’

‘What does my Wife have to do with it?’

‘Just ask her, she’ll tell you.’

Rindou slows, as he usually does when you’re mentioned. Erratic heartbeat calmed by the thought of you, a soft and tentative quirk of his mouth that comes unbidden at the image of you, at the mention, at the concept and he finds he can’t help it, that it’s impossible for his body not to betray him like this. So he worries less for a time, touches it tentatively throughout the day, a self conscious glance at the mirror every so often, at his phone screen before it illuminates with the picture of you, his thumb catching on the screen before it fades to black once again. Ran sees, and Ran knows and it’s less subtle when he pats Rindou’s back at the end of the day, a ‘drive safe’ that he leaves pressed to his Brother’s jacket like a charm, and all the worry of being his only family, of knowing he’d die for him at a moment’s notice.

When he returns, a tired and subdued “I’m home Princess” that you hear over the sound of the splash of water slipping down into the bubbly froth of your soak, your chest flutters, as it usually does when you meet the sultry cadence of his voice every day. You wonder if it will ever not be like that, if you’ll ever not feel a better, newer version of yourself with him, a caterpillar shaking off its chrysalis, if there will ever come a point where his hands do not feel safe and strong and perfect on you. 

‘I’m in the bathroom Rin,’ you say as he comes around the corner, his jacket held over one arm, sock-clad feet in a matching pair of fur slippers. You’d say it was cute but you know he did it for you anyway. There’s little he doesn’t and you feel spoiled sometimes, unworthy, undeserving, when you find he’s constantly stepping out, stepping in for you, things he does that he never asks for payment for. 

‘The water’s still warm, come in baby.’ You lift your arms, and he flushes despite himself, when the water makes a beeline for the dip in your breasts where the bubbles rest, wet skin that’s shiny and luminous under the low lighting, a candle that has the shadow of your cleavage splashed on the wall. 

‘You don’t mind?’ And he shrugs his shirt off, his back flexing as he tosses it- and his pants- into the laundry basket, the black swirl of ink swallowing the light, and you press your thighs together on instinct, at the heated flush that crawls along your spine every time. 

It’s rather unceremonious when he sits in front of you, his back to your chest, breasts pressing against his shoulder blades, a drawn out sigh spilling past his lips when he leans into you, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, light scratches against his scalp, lips ghosting over the swell of his muscled shoulder. And you don’t mind at all, the weight of him against your body, the need for support that he’ll never ask for, the give and take that has you drawing out his fatigue with your kisses pressed to his skin.

‘How was your day?’ You lather shampoo in your hands, fingers wrinkly from being submerged for so long, and run them through his hair, down to the tips, a gentle massage of his scalp that has him biting back a groan as he settles against your chest. 

��It was okay, the usual.’ He keeps it clipped, firm, enough, because he likes hearing you more, the soft and sweet lilt of your voice he keeps close to his chest, in his heart for safekeeping, tucked away behind the guns and blood, the countless deaths he’s seen and caused. 

‘Just okay?’

‘Just okay.’ A beat, a long and pregnant pause. And then- ‘Actually…’

‘Yeah?’ You pause, your hands braced on the showerhead, warm water slipping over the soft and bronzed swell of his shoulders. ‘Close your eyes- I need to rinse.’

His eyes flutter shut, a warm sigh, a flush on his skin that isn’t just the water. He lifts his hands, massages your thighs splayed on either side of him, calloused fingers inching dangerously close to that patch of sensitive skin and it feels…nice to be touched like that for the both of you. He thinks of how easy it is to be taken care of by you, how the need is never shameful, never something he feels guilty for wanting, how he’s taken care of and loved so perfectly and maybe it has changed him in some way, down to the fibre of his bones, a lighter, softer version of him that he reserves just for you. 

‘Mhm, yeah, Ran wanted me to ask you something- said you’d know the answer,’ he says, over the splash of water, bubbles receding now to where they cling at the sides of the tub. 

‘Go on.’

There is water splashing over his eyes and he lifts his hands momentarily to push his bangs back, his forehead glistening with soap, the suds clinging to the soft and inviting swell of his shoulders and you resist the urge to kiss- to bite- to sink your lips against the toned muscle. 

'Mhm, you know…lots of things don't you princess?' he says, a hand now splayed across your thigh on the right side again, thumb grazing the soft inside, shiny skin now covered with a wet and tantalising sheen. 

You suck in a breath, your hand juddering, stuttering against the roots on his scalp, a soft massage and rake of your nails along the fine wet hairs. 'Y-Yeah? I know some things baby, what is it you need exactly?' And his thoughts are far away, long and lithe fingers grazing the back of your thighs as he lifts them to squeeze at, the imprint of his hands leaving a rosy red on your skin and you shudder, your arms brushing his as you run your hands through his hair and squeeze the ends. 

And then he turns his head, a hand braced over the lip of the bathtub, wet hair now splayed across his shoulder and points to his cheek, where the offending crease now curls at the side of his mouth. ‘Can you tell me what this is? It’s been bothering me all day, and Ran said I should ask you and that you’d know and I hate seeing it and-’

‘Rindou.’

‘Yeah?’

You soften, a hand moving from the water to cup his cheek, water slipping down your forearm, off the crook of your elbow where the soap suds gather and cling before dropping with a plink. He sinks, unbidden against your palm, eyelashes kissing at his cheek from where you run your thumb across his cheekbone, eyes flitting and fluttering closed as a soft sigh spills past his reddened lips. 

‘You are very cute, do you know that?’ you say and your fingers drift to the back of his neck, a light trail of soft touches, the water-roughened pads of your fingers skimming across his neck, the spill of ink on the dip of his throat, Adam's apple sliding and shifting under your touch and he makes a choked sound, something between a gasp and a cough, clearing his throat in a way that does little to hide the creeping embarrassment in his chest.

‘If- if you’re just going to make fun I’m going to-’

‘Shhhh,’ you say, a slight lean forward that has your nose bumping his, a slight pull of your hand to bring him closer, your breath now ghosting over the soft cupid’s bow of his shell pink lips, glistening and pearly under the light. ‘I’m not making fun of you, but you really are quite special aren’t you? I’m so lucky to have you.’

He swallows, presses a chaste peck to your lips that he knows will lead to more, as if often does, and his hand comes to hold your chin, fingers that grip your jaw just right, your hair falling over his knuckles and clinging, as you do, to the fibre of him. He wonders if the charged moments like this will ever feel less electric and he dreads that one day it might feel like a chore to kiss you like this, to hold you in his hands with the rough fingers grazing a line along your sensitive neck and it aches inside when he thinks of ever not having you, of ever not seeing you again.

‘I don’t understand what you mean, don’t you think it’s serious? It means I’m ageing doesn’t it? I’m getting old.’ He hates that there’s a waver in his voice then, a tremble that seems to reverberate with the lump in his throat, a horrible and terrifying insecurity that now lays itself bare before you.

You click your tongue, a soft smile that tugs at your lips and you stroke his cheek, thumb moving over the crease back and forth. ‘It’s a smile line silly. That’s why Ran wanted you to ask me. It’s what happens when you’re happy a lot.’

‘A smile line? I don’t understand, don’t most people hate them?’

‘Well I don’t. I’d rather you be happy, and to know you’re happy, makes me happy too. To know that you like your life with me, makes me feel very lucky.’

‘Oh. But it makes me look older doesn’t it?’

You tilt your head to the side, a slide of your hair against your skin, your chest now close enough to brush his, the goosebumps prickling across your arms. ‘No, it doesn’t. And y’know what Rin, so what if it did? You are all the more handsome and sexy and gorgeous to me, and that won’t change if you get older. I’m not getting any younger either.’

It grates on him that it hurts inside, that it makes sense. But it does, really does. When he thinks of how many smiles he fights watching you sleep, watching you dream, kisses pressed to your forehead, to your cheeks and the back of your hands where he grins when you flush and look away and the concept of running home to you hasn’t changed in all these years. He thinks, after this long, the excitement might have worn off if you’d been anyone else, if he’d been any less in love and any less willing.

‘But you’ll always be pretty to me,’ he says, matter of factly, and unaware of how the heat rises to your cheeks so overtly, as if it’s the simplest thing to believe, as if it’s an irrefutable fact. Because it is to him. 

‘And you’ll always be the most handsome, sexy, beautiful man ever to me too.’ And damn him, for how your voice wobbles now, how the tears gather on your lashes so easily, pulled so freely, how it aches and stings your chest with so much love to see him so earnest, the flecked hue of his eyes where your reflection shimmers under the candlelight. You press a soft kiss to the crease and his eyes widen, an almost apprehensive stiff frown that bleeds into love when your lips touch his cheek again on the other side. 

He pulls you first then, your chin still in his hand, a heated press of his lips to yours, slotting so softly, a perfect fit that has you eliciting a small gasp, and his tongue touches yours tentatively, shyly even, a bare and wispy brush that has you leaning further into him. And when you break, the thin line of saliva does too, a string that falls onto your chin. 

It’s an hour later when the two of you are back in bed, glowing with the aftermath of sex and now huddled under the covers, you on his chest and him winding the ends of the duvet around his fingers. There is much talking in those moments, a little after, when he glows and giggles and laughs and pulls you close enough to feel the warmth of you on him, when time is everlasting and waiting in the palms of his hands, when the two of you are infinite.

You get a call from Ran a day later, a quick and quiet ‘thank you, for everything you do for him,’ and you bask in the unspoken love and understanding the three of you share, the golden thread that ties you all together. You know they’re long past it now, days of green and simmering jealousy that always permeated every sarcastic word. You know that’s part of growing up, and they have and it’s easier now, when they are old enough to appreciate each other and hold tighter to the memories they share. 

Maybe you are right, Rindou thinks as he dresses for work in the morning, leaving the sleeping you in the warm confines of your soft and perfumed bed.  Maybe it’s not so bad. 

Does it bother him that he’s shrugged off this old version of himself for you? The old him that found fault often, that ran headfirst into cynicism because it’s what he knew, what he was used to, that was gruff and aggressive and awkward because it hurt to be anything otherwise. Does it bother him that you’ve changed him enough for it to be so visceral?

It should, and yet it doesn’t. He likes it in fact and maybe, just maybe, he finds himself not biting back the smile when he kisses you before setting off, a lingering press of his lips to yours, that tells you everything he can’t.

a/n: hi, this was actually a present for my dear @tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang (i am so sorry it came so late but I hope you like it anyways) between writing and trying to find a new job, it's been tough to find the time and motivation, but I enjoyed writing this, I kinda cried like a few times y'know, as you do lol. Enjoy everyone!

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment @deskaisers @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[bloompompom]

Drive-In Distraction

Tonight's horror movie double-feature won't be the only thing that has you wanting to scream

✩ content: ~5.6k word count. eren jaeger x female reader. modern au, established relationship, porn without plot, fluff, teasing, oral sex (m!receiving), PIV sex, public sex, quiet sex, exhibitionism, slight overstimulation, come fucking, dirty talk, praise, spit, explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. 18+ only

“Eren!”

The scold left you in a harsh whisper, only after you realized where his hand was venturing. Once innocently on your thigh, giving you sweet intermittent squeezes, now traveling higher and higher. 

This was not the place to start fooling around with each other.

Earlier that day, Eren tossed you the idea of going to the drive-in theater, said it was the perfect activity for the season since they were showing a late-night horror movie double-feature. 

‘Those still exist?’ you asked him. He gave you some sarcastic answer—‘No, I just made it up for fun’—before the two of you were throwing all the pillows and blankets you could find into the trunk of his hatchback. 

Eren had pushed the backseats down until they were flat, and you made a makeshift bed, laying out an old duvet first then layering on the rest. It ended up being comfy, at least enough to cuddle up and watch back-to-back movies together.

But you hadn’t even gotten halfway through the first one before Eren started getting antsy, which in hindsight, you probably should have seen coming. 

“What? I’m not doing anything,” your boyfriend lilted, that familiar chime of amusement ringing through his voice. It was the tell-tale sign he was trying to fluster you, and he knew he was succeeding.

But he couldn’t help himself; you were too easy to play with. 

Despite your warning glare, Eren’s fingers settled in the crease of your thigh. He traced over it, feeling the band of your underwear beneath your leggings. 

“C’mon, I’m bored.”

“We’ve been here, like, thirty minutes. How could you possibly be bored already?”

He hummed, straightening out in his seat to snake an arm between your back and the pillows. He hooked his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re distracting me.”

This was his plan from the start, wasn’t it? You wanted to say it was unbelievable, but it was anything but. Either way, you didn’t stop the giggle that left you; a little one, and only because you thought his flagrant attempts at flattery were endearing. 

“How?” you challenged, knowing damn well you haven’t done anything besides watch the movie and debate if you were up for the hike to the concession stand on the opposite side of the lot. 

“Because you’re so cute—” Eren cajoled.

His breath warmed the side of your neck as he inched even closer. The tip of his nose fit into the dip beneath your ear as he nuzzled into you.

“—And pretty.”

His lips met your skin and a spark skipped down your spine. You shivered, unable to hold it back. Eren gave a wry chuckle as he smoothed over your thigh reassuringly. It was teasing but gentle, irritatingly soft. After another kiss, you finally allowed your eyes to flutter shut. 

His lips—then his tongue—were hot as he left lazy kisses, as many as if he were dotting the night sky, taking as much time as he pleased despite being in the open trunk of his car. Not a single inch of you, from the lobe of your ear to your collarbone, went neglected.

You dug a palm into the billows of blankets to keep upright. You had tunnel vision to Eren and only Eren. The movie playing through the radio was white noise, buzzing beneath the drumming of your heart. Your tiny breaths sharpened as you tried to wrangle in the oxygen to bring your head back to Earth.

“Eren.” When you said his name this time, it wasn’t a hiss. It was flimsy on your exhale, nearly dying on your tongue. He shushed you with soft coos murmured into the crook of your neck. 

As your head tipped to one side, Eren caught your jaw, holding you there as he licked and sucked and nipped. He was only kissing you, not even on your mouth, and already you felt helpless to him. He had wrapped you up in that sensual minute, or ten, or maybe an entire hour—you didn’t know. You were lost in the tangle of pillows and blankets, twisting the fabric between your fist as if it would ground you. The inky night had swaddled you, with only the old projector ahead illuminating your ever-trembling body. 

Eren’s eager hand continued surveying you, exploring down the hollow of your collarbone to your chest, as if he hadn’t touched these parts of you countless times before. His hand followed the curve of your breast tentatively, waiting to see what reaction it’d elicit from you.

When he expected a swatted hand, he was only gifted a wordless sound, almost like a purr. His smirk seared into the thin skin of your neck as he teased your breast. He reveled in how your body reacted to him, sensitive to his touch even through your top; your nipple perking between his fingers and the patter of your heart against his palm. He craved nothing more than to strip you of it, free you of it so he could feel your softness with nothing in between. This would have to do for now. 

He decided to push his luck anyway, his hand straying further, lower. Your sternum, your stomach…

Your shoulder scrunched to your ear in a flinch. “I don’t know, Eren. Maybe we should wait until we’re home.”

“I don’t wanna wait that long,” he breathed against you. He couldn’t wait that long, not now. Not with the way his cock was already straining against his sweatpants, aching to feel you, any way you’d let him. 

Every word was laced with desire, burning hot against your ear. They pooled in the low part of your stomach and dripped down to your toes. With every raspy syllable, Eren’s voice faded as his need overtook him. Despite your nervous squirming—and your better judgment—your legs began to spread, making room for his hand to cup between your legs.

He only touched you through your leggings at first, but he could still feel your heat, the shake in your thighs when he pressed down, right on your clit. Already, you had sucked in your lip, muffling whatever sound wanted to escape. It was so cute, how easily you folded for him. 

Once he stuck his hand beneath, bypassing your underwear entirely, you shuddered when his fingers met your bare skin. Not because they were cold; you expected cold. They were warm, his skin already ablaze with arousal as he brushed the tips of his fingers over you, through you, but never daring to dip further. It would be easy, if he wanted to, what with how wet you were after just a few strategic neck bites. But he wanted to tease you. Just a little. 

Eren pinched your chin, angling you for another kiss. There was a certain stiffness about you, only in your lips; the rest of you couldn’t stay still. Between kisses and your little gasps, you whispered, “We’re going to get caught.”

“That’s what makes it fun.”

On sheer coincidence (or the universe’s knack for impeccable timing), a blood-curdling shriek blared through the radio and tore straight through the tension in the car. You lurched forward, sitting up as tall as if a teacher had smacked your desk while nodding off—or if someone had caught you with your boyfriend’s hand down your pants. 

“Someone’s jumpy,” Eren poked. You dropped your hand from your chest, ready to shove him away, when he held your face again. He brought you back to him in an attempt to quell your rampant anxiety. “Seriously, no one’s gonna come this way. Don’t worry.”

Your eyes flitted from his face, to the screen, then back to him. Through squished cheeks, you asked, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

He punctuated it with a kiss on the tip of your nose, then one on your lips. He tilted into you with his hand curving around the back of your head. Immediately, you were his, opening your mouth and tempting his tongue to find yours. 

His fingers effortlessly return to your clit. He began to rub circles, slow at first, feeling how soft you were, how your swollen, needy pussy gave beneath. You started to pant harder against him, your moving lips growing erratic. He tightened his circles, quickening them and playing your body as though it were an instrument he’d mastered, knowing which touches had you quivering and which had you whining—most importantly, which would make you come the quickest. 

Your hips wiggled against his hand, angling and trying to get more out of him. You wanted him inside you, and you wanted it badly.

As you expected, you felt his breathy laugh against your mouth. “See? Not so scary now, is it?”

Even if you were to humor the question, you wouldn’t have had the chance to before he parted you and pushed a finger inside. A small sound left you, again when he began to drag his finger in and out of you, curling it just the right way. You had to stay quiet. Your throat tightened, desperate to keep your tiny whines from turning into bleats bursting from your chest. You were only capable of a whisper of, “More,” mumbly and wet against his mouth. 

Eren maintained his composure, smartly asking, “Feels good, huh?”

He already knew the answer; he didn’t need to ask. He only did it for his own benefit, pining to hear it come from you. To take in the sounds of your croons and cries as you plead for him again and tuck them away for later. 

He didn’t wait for your answer; he didn’t have the restraint for it. Eren inserted a second finger, always willing to please his girlfriend, giving her whatever she wanted, even when she was an incoherent mess—especially when she was an incoherent mess. 

Once he did, he could practically taste the lust on your tongue, delving deeper and spilling into his mouth. The kiss, if one could call it that, turned shameless clumsy, his fingers pumping until he reached the pace that had you fluttering around his knuckles. 

You were lost in a swirl of heady breaths, the air of the trunk growing thick and coiling around you with your lower half sweltering under the blankets. Still, you managed to lift them and reach a hand beneath, caressing over the top of Eren’s thigh. The muscle tensed as you went, grazing up his leg just as he had with you.

You palmed over the front of his sweats, again when you realized how hard he had been for you. His abdomen flexed and relaxed. There was a delicious relief in your touch, even if plenty of layers still separated you. Too many for Eren’s liking. 

Riled up beyond belief, it only took a few chaste strokes before Eren was lifting his hips to meet you, instinctively working his cock against your hand in search of more pressure—more anything. 

Of course, the heavy petting was fun, but think of how much more fun you could have. Not fooling and fumbling like teenagers who snuck into an R-rated movie, but upping the ante, seeing truly how far you could go without getting caught. 

A little risk never scared him off before.

Eren pulled away to catch his breath, smiling at you all big with this wicked look on his face; the look of a winner. He had taken you by both wrists and dragged you along with him, following wherever he led you. In his hands, you were like putty or dough or clay—you were no more than something waiting to be warmed and molded in whichever way he desired, crafted to fit him and only him. 

But you were more than willing. And luckily for you, Eren was just as malleable in your delicate hands. Neither of you could turn back now, even if you wanted to. 

The flashing screen cast a cool light on the side of your face, catching the sheen of your bottom lip. What was left of your kiss was wiped away by Eren as he thumbed over it.

“You wanna do this?” he asked, still with that same sideways grin. 

You nodded excitedly, emphasized it by tugging down his waistband. His hands only left you to help, one shuffling his sweatpants lower while the other expertly held the blanket over your laps. 

The blanket was fleecy and thick, opaque enough to block out any lights. You could barely see a thing, but you do make out the way his cock slapped against his lower abs once you had his boxers down. You reached for him, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes flickered to the screen, then downward once more. Not a soul in sight—or at least, you weren’t in their sights. 

You took him in your hand and even that, the feeling of your fingertips grazing him, made his breathing stutter. When you wrapped your fingers around him, slightly tightening your grip, you only had to pump a few slow times before you thought you could feel his heartbeat in his cock. 

Eren lifted the blanket high enough to steal a peek at your hand on him. He watched the fluid movement of your wrist, up and down, quickening after you thumbed over his tip, slick with precome. 

He couldn’t think of a time he’d been this turned on by a hand job, probably not since his first one. Each time his eyelids lidded, he’d have to force them back open to scan the surroundings, just in case. You were a bit preoccupied to care, his hand back where it belonged as he fucked you with his fingers. It made it hard for you to focus on much else, your jaw already falling ever so slack. 

Even Eren had to admit the inherent risk had his heart thumping faster. But unlike you, it didn’t frighten him. It exhilarated him. He found himself already fighting back the urge to come from the thrill alone. All the while, you had this nervous tremble in your hand, as if you were this innocent little thing; he knew better than to believe that. Still, he found you extremely endearing, only making it harder for him to not pin you down and ruin you right there. Imagine how cute you would look if you were to really get caught.

Each time he stuffed his fingers inside you fully, your steady hand would stagger. Your effort was put towards jerking him off, but your concentration faltered so effortlessly; you were never one for multitasking. Especially when Eren’s huffs through his nose turned ragged each time you paid extra attention to the tip of his cock, palming and squeezing gently. 

“God, I wanna taste you so badly right now,” Eren exhaled. His cock throbbed at the thought.

You tried to respond, but his fingers were unrelenting, thick and dragging against your walls in a way you could only describe as lewd. The pace, the sound—the fact that the crotch of your leggings was soaked through. 

“Ah-hah.” You swallowed hard. “A-absolutely not. People will see.”

You didn’t know how it would even work in such a tight space—with plenty of head bumps and leg cramps, you supposed. 

“Hm,” Eren muttered, seemingly unhappy with your answer. His fingers slipped from you, collected some of your wetness, then began flicking over your clit. It yanked another sound from you, absolutely pathetic and ripped from the very depths of your throat. 

His fingers were drenched in your arousal, smooth and slick, trained on your undoing. He stopped short of it, slithering his hand from your leggings and bringing them to your mouth. 

“Guess this will have to do,” he told you just before sucking them, savoring your sweetness on his tongue, “until we get home.”

Eren’s brazen ways never ceased to ruffle you. Your cheeks flared hot, even more once he wrapped his wetted fingers around his length, jerking himself off. Making a show of it, too. The slippery sound of him coating his cock with you, darkened eyes locked onto yours. Little groans fell from him, lips slightly parted like he was high off you. 

Ripples of electricity pulsed through you, encouraged you, while your thighs could only clench at the sight. He didn’t even need to touch you for you to fall apart. But just because he couldn’t touch you the way he wanted—couldn’t taste you—didn’t mean you couldn’t. 

You perched to your knees and dove under the blanket. Before he could even blink, you had his cock upright in your hand, lapping up the length of it.

“Shit,” he hissed, way louder than he should have. 

You poked your head out, still playing with him in your hand. “This is why I didn’t want to do this.”

“I—sorry.” Eren’s voice was off-kilter, his hips twitching unwittingly with your lips mere centimeters from the tip of his cock. “I’ll shut up. Just—keep going. Please.”

You saw the needy look in his eye, and a smile crossed your face. You decided to steal from his bag of tricks, lightly pestering, “Gonna be quiet for me?”

You licked your lips before darting your tongue along his head. He groaned, first in annoyance, but it tapered into a fervorous sound, sultry to your ears. You gazed up at him with big eyes, lashes batting, and waited for him to say anything.

The sight of your pretty face, his cock against your pretty, pink tongue, had him muttering, “Fuck me.”

“Maybe later.” You winked and finally started to take him into your mouth. You heard the thud his head gave as it hit the back of the car seat. 

With every bob of your head, you swallowed more of him down your throat. It made your mouth water, had saliva dripping down the length of him and over your fist as you worked the base of his cock. 

You had your eyes shut and your attention fixed on Eren and nothing but Eren. Everything else might as well have faded to black. Your ears thrummed with the husky sound of his voice, whispering curses each time you wrapped your lips around him and hollowed your cheeks. You only felt his hand on you, fingertips tickling from between your shoulder blades to your tailbone. He palmed over your ass, groping the fat of it, and had you moaning around his cock. He must have felt it, the vibrating hum of your throat, because the blunt of his nails dug into your skin as if your leggings weren’t even there. 

You only popped up when you heard laughter. It was distant, but still enough to make your stomach drop.

“No one can see us right?” you asked through scarce breaths. You turned to look out, crooked your head from side to side, searching for any lurking eyes, but you only saw the cars parked in front of you, entirely unchanged. 

Eren leered down at you. Your eyes were wet; the corners of them caught what little light there was. Each time you blinked, a tear threatened to break your waterline as though it were a dam. There was spit on your chin, your lips were cock and kiss-swollen and slick, and dear God did he want to take a picture. 

He gulped, only mumbling a dazy, “You’re good.”

You decided to trust him. Before he knew it, you had him back in your mouth, right where you had left off. You focused on breathing through your nose to hold back a gag as you took as much of his length as you could. You swallowed and sucked, and each time he nudged the back of your throat, it’d tighten around him and make his stomach clench. And when your nose finally brushed against his pelvis, you felt him shiver, his hand balling the fabric of your shirt in his hand. 

This was when Eren would normally talk you through it. Sugar-coated praises sprinkled between all the dirty things he wanted you to do. Gag on it, choke on it, grunting while he fucked your mouth and babbling about you how beautiful you look while taking him, only him. Obscenities you shouldn’t love but did, each one always warming your chest with that fuzzy-duckling feeling, even though you were in the wolf’s clutches. You missed hearing him, but if you gagged now, it would be too loud, and Eren had already promised you he’d shut up. 

Honestly, you were impressed he could bite his tongue even this long. This was the most you’d ever seen him hold back; he was more so the give-it-his-all type, lacking any sort of restraint. You wouldn't think he’d ever heard of the word ‘self-control’ before—which was exactly why you never did anything like this in the past. Never fucking when his previous roommate was home or when you’d visit his parents, even if he begged for it. You knew you’d never be able to look them in the eyes afterward.

You were sure he was only quiet now, besides small groans and tight breaths, because the consequence was that his cock would lose the wet heat of your mouth. No, he couldn’t let himself go right now, not entirely, and it probably felt like a cruel trick he played on himself. 

But Eren didn’t need to say a single thing for you to know exactly what he was thinking. You could feel it in the way you held his eyes, like you were too captivating to look away. And whenever your hair fell and blocked his view—a view wouldn’t dare go a second without—he’d dotingly pet it away from your face. 

And you certainly didn’t need to question it when he breathed, “God, I fucking love you,” with his head thrown back in ecstasy, your name like a shiver surging through him. 

Then, the Eren you knew, and loved, returned. 

“Fuck, I need you.”

He said it as though he was submitting, like his carnal impulses had finally bested him—as if they already hadn’t from the moment he got handsy with you, kissing your neck.

He pulled you off his cock, and you choked for air in surprise. His hands immediately went for your leggings, removing them, along with your underwear, in one quick tug.

You squealed—for a lot of reasons, actually. The crisp night air against your bare skin. The lack of consideration he had for your whereabouts. You snatched the blanket to shield yourself, your eyes darting every which way to see if anyone noticed. 

Eren’s hands were heavy against the grooves of your skin, weighed down with hunger as he repositioned you to his liking. He had you straddling his lap in reverse, like he thought you wanted to watch the movie while he fucked you. 

“That way you can keep watch,” You could hear the cheeky grin in his voice, “so you don’t have to be so nervous.”

You half-laughed because it wasn’t much better at all. It only made you feel dirtier for what you were about to do. That wasn’t about to stop you, though. You could feel his cock, hot and glazed in your spit, against your thigh, and you could only think about how much you wanted it inside you. 

“What if the car starts to shake?” you asked.

His hands smoothed down your back until he pinched your ass. When you startled, he only chuckled, “Damn, how hard were you planning on going?”

Eren shoved a hand between your legs. He glided his fingers along your slit, relishing the little wiggle you gave in response. By the time the pads of his fingers met your clit, they were slick, rubbing and slipping against you. 

“Eren, please. We don’t have time for this,” you said, but it was hardly a warning. Your voice warbled, the end of it getting pitchy with pleasure. You could pretend all you wanted, but you loved it, every drawn-out second of it. 

He could imagine the look of anticipation on your face. You were probably gnawing on your bottom lip, your nose scrunching cutely every time he dared to dip inside you, but only because you were hoping it’d be his cock instead of his fingers. 

You had the blanket clutched to you, your grip tightening as he continued to toy with you. Shame heatedly prickled down your neck—shame for how utterly shameless you felt about the situation. 

Eren grabbed your ass with both hands, spreading you as he debated thrusting inside you then. He wanted nothing more than to give your cheek a resounding slap with an open palm. He opted for his cock instead, slapping the head of it against you a few times.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, almost as if he didn’t know if he was talking to you or himself. 

Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, so hard that you thought it wanted to break free. You were running on nothing but adrenaline, an intoxicating concoction of danger and being unbelievably turned on by said danger.

Eren always enjoyed the reaction he’d pull from you whenever he’d first slide his cock into you; it hadn’t changed since the first time you had sex. A sharp inhale through your nose, your mouth dropping into a tiny ‘O.’  Your eyes would squeeze close only to flutter back open, but he couldn’t see that part now. And if you could manage it, you’d grab onto him wherever you could. Tonight, you dug your nails into his left thigh. He hardly felt it, more transfixed on the way you tightened around the head of his cock. 

He waited for your clench to relax before sinking you down onto him, lower. Choppy moans left the both of you right when your ass was smushed against his pelvis, when he was buried inside you fully. And again, only from Eren, when you started to move before he could. 

You took him with long strokes, every inch of him dragging in and out of you with his tip nearly kissing your entrance before you’d repeat it, again and again. Your movements were far from smooth, your legs straining, and your breath still caught up in your throat. But once you realized nothing had changed—the movie was still playing, and not so much as a headlight flicked on—you began to bounce on your knees. 

It wasn’t long before the sound of sex began to reverberate off the walls and fill the cramped trunk. The salacious smacking of skin on skin, all those little pants spilling from you, ones you couldn’t stifle no matter how tightly you sealed your lips. So long as everyone still had their radios on, there was no way they could hear you. That was what you told yourself, repeating it with every roll of your hips. Even if they could, you couldn’t find it within you to stop now. 

Eren splayed a hand against your lower back, slipping it until it flattened against your stomach. He held you upright as you continued taking his cock; it looked less conspicuous that way, if that were even possible. 

The new angle stole a gasp from you, your release already building, a rapturous bloom you could feel in every part of your body. Your toes threatening to curl, thighs shaking like you had just run a marathon. Your shirt clung to you, your sweat like a film across your skin. Inside, you were on the verge of bursting into flames, but on the outside, goosebumps scattered your skin, your sweat like ice in the autumn air. It was almost too much. Too much, but so good. The only thing you could do was keep going with your hand sealed over your mouth. 

Of course it went to Eren’s head. He loved it, seeing you physically have to restrain yourself from crying out. But there would be time for that later, when you’d really need it while coming on his cock. Right now, he still wanted to hear you, see just how far he could bend you before you broke. 

He kept his voice low while he demanded, “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” 

Your hand remained firmly over your mouth.

Eren wrapped his hand around your elbow and forced your arm to your side. You gave a short ‘ah,’ finally able to get a full breath. 

He asked again, “It’s all mine, right?”

“Yours,” you whispered, quiet, but Eren could still make out the whine in it. “Yours. It’s all yours.”

If you could see it, you would have smacked that lopsided smirk right off his face. Thankfully for him, you couldn’t. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to look at you.

“I—shit,” he hissed, interrupted by another rock of your hips. He couldn’t bring himself to stop you, practically hypnotized by every jiggle of your ass, but after a couple of seconds passed, he continued, “Need to see you. C’mere.”

Eren lifted you off him, turning you as you swung your leg around to straddle him. You draped the blanket over your back, pinning one of its corners to your chest. 

He guided you back down on his cock with hands on your hipbones, thumbing small circles against you. 

When your eyes met, a smile warmed his face. “There’s my girl.”

He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, with you nuzzling into him like a kitten. 

Eren led this time, holding you there for him to fuck into. He was slow at first, taking you with languid thrusts, letting himself readjust to you before he started pounding into you with hips rising off the floor. From there, well, it quickly spiraled into frenzied fucking, a mad dash in which you were both racing towards your releases. 

He shoved your shirt over your tits, placed the hem of it in your mouth not only to keep it out of his way but also to stop you from moaning any more than you already were. His large hands massaged over your breasts, cupping and bringing them to his mouth. He buried his face in your chest, kissing and licking over your sensitive skin, lipping over your nipples and flicking them with his tongue. And when his teeth gently grazed over them, you bit down on your shirt to suppress your whines. 

Eren released your tits only to see you hopelessly grind against him. He began to thumb over your clit, trying to tip you over the edge. You were close, your head already thrown back with your pussy throbbing around him. 

He admired you then. Your bouncing tits, the slight sheen across your stomach. He watched his cock disappear inside of you, in and out, in and out. 

“What did I say before? So damn pretty.”

“Close,” you choked. “I’m close.”

Your head flung forward, chin tucked to your chest as your entire body tightened. Eren’s hand found the nape of your neck, bringing you close enough that your foreheads pressed together. 

You were staring straight into each other’s eyes as his hand came between you to clamp down on your mouth. “You gonna come for me?”

You nodded frantically, and that was all it took for you to reach your peak. It bubbled in your core until euphoria engulfed you in its flames. It set your nerves on fire, every fiber of every one, sparking in your chest and scorching through your lower back. 

Once your balmy breaths against his palm had steadied, your irises glossing over like you were lost in a rose-tinted haze, Eren knew he wouldn’t last much longer. With that in mind, he didn’t feel so bad for losing control of himself. He only needed a minute. 

Eren pushed you onto your back, your head landing toward the end of the trunk. He yanked the blanket with him, over him, as he mounted you, plunging into you to the hilt in one snap of his hips. He watched your eyes widen in shock, but the moment he was fucking you again, you went dumb to everything else. 

The car had to be rocking now. There was no way it wasn’t. 

You didn’t have the time to worry about it before Eren’s hips became reckless—correction: more reckless than they were already.  

“I’m gonna come—fuck,” he groaned, drawing out the curse at the end.

His head dropped into the nook of your shoulder as he thrust into you fully one last time, rutting against you as if your bodies weren’t already flush.

When you were sure he’d spent himself, the tilts of his pelvis growing shallower until they settled, you started to sit up on your elbows. 

His voice was gravelly as he grunted, “I’m not done,” right against your ear as he kept you there, fucking his come into you. 

Borderline overstimulated, Eren couldn’t stop himself. He wanted you to take everything he gave you, and it still wasn’t enough. When he should be softening inside you, he was still hard, thinking about all the ways he’d have you once you were back at home. 

He collapsed on top of you, collected himself, then pushed himself up. You followed, tucking the blanket under your armpits even though your entire body was in a sticky swelter. You wiped your forehead as you watched Eren slip his sweatpants back on before tossing his blanket aside. 

He looked from the giant screen and back to you. He no longer recognized the movie, so he assumed, “Look, we even have some of the second movie left.”

You gave him those ‘you can’t be serious’ eyes. “You’re joking, right?”

Of course he was. But he held his silence as long as he could before his smile cracked through. Then he reached to close the trunk. 

“That desperate for round two?” he taunted.

Eren started to climb between seats, like he wasn’t too big for it, to reach the front. It was better than facing everyone in the immediate vicinity after what he’d done.

He plopped into the driver’s seat and looked back at you. “If you insist.”

thanks for reading ♡

[alwayscorvus]

"Too grumpy to handle" - How your relathioship with Gallagher began

"Too grumpy to handle" - How your relathioship with Gallagher began

malereader x older!Gallagher, fluff; warning! doing 18+/21+ acts hinted;

It's obvious that when you saw such a handsome man sitting alone at the bar, you just had to join him. You weren't saint. His look itself made you want to persue him. Seeing that pile of muscles peeking through unbuttoned shirt- his masculine, slightly bearded face- and what's more- this gentle eyes-... You felt something deep inside.

You, casualy took a seat next to the man. And he only threw you a quick glance.

Nevertheless, you didn't retreat from battlefield so easily. As every "typical player", you ordered two whiskeys with Cokes. For yourself and for him.

Old roadside bar was practically empty. Warm candlelight gently smoldered in a wooden room. No one was paying attention to you. Even bartender stayed back in his break room and left it only from time to time to serve some orders.

Gallagher accepted your drink without a word. Since he was already sitting there anyway, he could listen to you. Especially for free whiskey.

Besides, as you found out later, he was used to it. As a mixologist, he had listened to more than one drunk person in his life. And he often enjoyed taking their places. Especially after having a hard time in work.

It was one of those days when everything accumulated and he just had enough. Today's stowaway chase… Completely drained him out. Everyone demanded something from him. Superiors wanted him to solve cases as quickly as possible, without complaining. Subordinates hoped to find in him a support, role model and even better, someone who would do everything for them. Family waited for promotions and an ideal son who should have started his own household a long time ago and give them grandchildren.

That's why it's no wonder that all he wanted to do at that moment, was to give himself to you. Sink into your embrace. You were so warm, so affectionate-

This vibe of responsibility, masculinity, security, all the way urged him to let you take control.

Trying to act casual, he allowed you to lead the way, with intertwined hands. Up the shadowed stairs, to one of a rooms for rent. This for worn-out wanderers.

He wasn't sure why it happened. Such situations weren't common for him. Or at least never in such position. Everyone, seeing him, felt intimidated and took for granted his willingness to lead. And he just didn't protest. Just like now. He was so unbothered. When you sobered up, you even had some moral doubt. If for sure, you hadn't taken advantage of his weakness. He assured you, however, that if he really didn't feel like it, he would have kicked you in balls, handcuffed, arrested and lead you to the nearest police station.

Apparently this had happened to him more than once. Hearing that, a sudden shiver of terror went through you. You were so close to suffering a drastic consequences.

When it was all over, and you regained your strength, you turned your attention back to Gallagher.

He was sitting with his legs straight, leaning against the headboard of large bed. His lower body was covered by a white, soft duvet. You, on the other hand, were lying sideways, on a bent arm, almost snuggled into a cozy pillow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Gallagher. Glow of street lamps, crept into the bedroom through half-exposed window and tickled his slowly cooling body.

Gallagher carefully lit a cigarette, with a lighter he had earlier fished out of his pants, that had been tossed onto a floor. Orange, playful flame let you see his face in new colors.

He fixed strands of hair that were sticky from sweat and hid them behind his ear. Allowing you by that to get a closer look at his other features.

With each passing second, you began to like him more and more.

He threw a closed lighter to the edge of a bed and took a decent drag of nicotine.

At the same time, Gallagher stared at the wall in front of him. He was was thinking hard about something. Instead of paying attention to your presence.

When he let out a puff of smoke something tickled your nostrils.

He didn't even offer you a cigarette.

Perhaps you didn't look like a person who smoked too often. Or maybe your needs didn't really matter to him.

You weren't taken aback. You raised your free hand and gently began to draw a small circles on his firm chest. While doing so, you asked how was he feeling. If he was all right, if he wasn't in pain. Gallagher only hummed to you reassuringly, while still staring blankly into a space.

After a minute, however, perhaps pushed by your sudden affection, which he didn't expect, he stubbed his cigarette. Crushed it against a glass bottom of an ashtray and turned suddenly toward you. Like a large but harmless bear, he snuggled into your embrace. Surprising you quite a bit in the process. He hid his head in crook of your neck and decided to take advantage of his last moments with you.

After all, they were so nice. It was the first time in so long when he could really relax and feel so comfortable and safe. No one judged him.

Gallagher couldn't expect that you took him seriously and that you didn't plan to just leave him. Especially since you felt something more for him after that night.

You have permanently added yourself into his schedule. You visited him during work, brought food, and chatted. Gallagher wasn't very talkative, but your funny stories or anecdotes were able to provide him with an entertainment. He wouldn't admit it, but every workday, he looked forward to the hour when you would finally visit him. Most often it happened at a lunchtime. Sometimes completely out of the blue. And when you decided to come at the end of his shift Gallagher began to grind his teeth. Apparently, he was becoming even more grumpy than usual, and his co-workers couldn't stand his gloomy mood.

By the way, Gallagher liked to complain about them. This provided him with a great pleasure. An opportunity to speak out. Especially when his subordinates, as usual, did something wrong. Sure, they were young and inexperienced, but had they really not been taught anything at school?

You were the only way to soothe his nerver, other than a bottle of whiskey.

Gallagher, however, couldn't allow himself to think about anything else. You were too young for him.

Of course, you were already an adult, you had a job, your own apartment. You were also responsible and had enough experience in life to not treat it like a game. And your age difference at this phase wasn't really a problem anymore, since neither of you had been teenagers for a long time.

But Gallagher insisted that you deserved someone better, younger. With whom you could still enjoy and experience a lot. Go through stages that Gallagher had long since passed.

You repeatedly tried to knock this silly thinking out of his head. You assured him that all this didn't matter to you, as long as you could be with him. That he is the perfect one for you, exactly the way he is. That you are not looking for anyone younger, because no one will provide what he does. And that he is the one with whom you want to experience all these beautiful moments together.

When Gallagher understood that you weren't planning to surrender, he gave up. He hoped that maybe after some time you would get bored. Especially, after living together. He thought that after experiencing his "non-ideal" form in a daily domestic routine, you will decide to look for someone else. Oh, how wrong he was.

Now? Now you are a happy couple and make an almost perfect match. At least that's what your friends say. Sure, you have small quarrels occasionally. About his not closed shoe polish or your coffee grounds left in a cup. But despite this, nothing gives you as much pleasure as spending time together, in your four walls.

… Only sometimes you're maybe a little too jealous. About how many buttons Gallagher wears undone and how loosely his tie is. But at such moments, man assures you that he is only yours and lets you snuggle into his chest. In the afternoons, when he comes home and you have a sulky face and don't greet him with usual "welcome home".

Over the next few days, he obeys your suggestions and buttons up to almost every last thing. Besides, he has no other choice. You mark him too much at such occasions. And Gallagher doesn't really want his co-workers to see your bites and tease him about that.

🌸

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Twelve

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben.

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, smidge of angst,

W/C: 1,623

You closed the bedroom door as quietly as you could. It clicked softly. Ben’s form shifted, duvet rustling.

“Where’d you go?”

His voice rasped, full of sleep.

“Restroom.”

He grunted.

You pulled one side of the sheets back and slipped into bed. Ben didn’t wait for you to get comfy. His heavy arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. He slipped his hand under your pyjama top, seeking skin, fingers splaying across the side of your body. He nuzzled your hair, beard lightly scraping across your scalp, lips moving as he murmured by your ear.

“Preferred it before you changed.”

You felt his lips spread into a smile before kissing you and settling back down.

You didn’t reciprocate. Just laid there, facing the ceiling, a million thoughts running around in your head.

He had the potential to impregnate you. Possibly more than any other male on the damn planet. You sure as Hell weren’t dumb enough to think he wanted more. No, it was just a bit of fun. And for you? You were already attached but weren’t dumb enough to believe he’d fall for you.

“We forgot to use a condom.”

Ben hmmed into your hair.

“So?”

He didn’t care.

How could you explain it? The differences between you both. He wouldn’t understand.

“It’s kinda a big deal…”

Ben huffed. He had been happy. Content, even. Now, he was annoyed. And that was down to you.

“Didn’t hear you complainin’ bout it earlier.”

No. You hadn’t, had you.

“ ’sides, thought you wanted to get knocked up anyway.”

It wasn’t like that. Yeah, you wanted a baby. But you wanted more.

“I want a family.”

He scoffed.

“Family fucks you up.”

His words left you feeling deflated. Empty. Alone. Hell, it wasn’t like you were proposing to him or even telling him you wanted to be with him. Then why did it feel like a rejection? Did you want him? To be with him?

Don’t be absurd.

But he was right. Family did fuck you up. You could attest to that. Just look at the fraught relationship you had with your mother. But you wanted to be better. You wanted to create happy memories with a husband and a kid.

“Go to sleep, sweetcheeks.”

Yeah. You should. But the thought of getting pregnant occupied your mind.

Ben said he was on the way to Vought Tower when he suddenly appeared at your home. And in Walmart he’d already mentioned Homelander being his kid. Both Homelander and Ryan were born biologically as Supes, not injected like the rest. It meant that if you did get pregnant, the kid would be the first Supe to enter the real world.

Fear slammed into you, taking the breath from your chest. You’d be all alone, with no idea how to raise a child with powers. How would you explain it to authority figures? Would they take the child away? A child you’d so desperately wanted. Gone. And probably used as a weapon by the government. No, you’d have to keep the child a secret.

*

When you managed to sleep, dreams of Ben’s kid coming into his powers and destroying the house, the town, and you plagued you all night.

You jerked awake after a particularly nasty dream where Ben’s kid erupted in a ball of flames in your arms. Cold sweat covered you, strands of hair stuck to your forehead, and your mouth felt like you’d eaten cotton balls.

The warm, calloused hand on your breast pulled you from your reverie.

“You kick. Whatcha dreamin’ bout?”

Yeah, you’d woken up a few times that night. You didn’t answer him. Couldn’t. You were unsure what to tell him. Guilt settled in your chest as Ben nuzzled closer. He was feeling extremely touchy-feely after last night. But you weren’t. Because if you weren’t careful, he would end up between your legs again.

Regretfully, you pushed his hand off your breast. The cool morning air caused your skin to break out in goosebumps. You missed the warmth of his touch on your skin as you moved away.

He huffed. “What’s gotcha ass so wound up?”

“Just tired.” Was your monotone response.

It wasn’t a lie. You were tired. But dear God, you couldn’t cope with another one of those dreams.

“Was hopin’ for some mornin’ nookie.”

His fingers slipped over your thigh, seeking the apex.

“ ’m not in the mood.”

Ben shrugged and removed his hand. “Suit yaself.”

Behind you, the sheet rustled, and you felt the mattress lift.

“I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but I’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

You turned, ready to remedy the situation. Ben stood gloriously naked, sporting a semi. He looked like a Greek god, sculpted to perfection.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m freaking out.”

Ben walked around the bed, moving to the built-in wardrobe.

“About what?”

You stayed silent for a beat. You stared down at your fingernails.

“What if I get pregnant?” It came out in a whisper.

Ben sighed. You looked back up and watched as he stepped into underwear, pulling them up his legs and tucking himself away.

“Then you deal with it.”

“I don’t know anything about raising a Supe.”

Ben turned to you, lifting an undershirt on.

”Who said you’d be on your own.”

Your brows furrowed, then. “You would stay if I did?”

“I’m saying I’d do the right thing. I wouldn’t let you drown.”

He kicked yesterday’s sweatpants back on and left you to ponder his words as he headed into the bathroom.

*

Downstairs, Beau and Dean were clucking away like hens in the kitchen. Your name cropped up on more than one occasion.

“You talking about me.”

Ben had decided to shower while in the bathroom, so instead of sitting there, you decided to grab a coffee and at least try to wake up.

Beau passed you a fresh steaming mug.

“Just natural concern is all.”

“You need to be careful—”

You eased yourself into a seat and held up a hand to Dean. You took your first sip of coffee and savoured the fresh taste. Fuck. There was no way you could go back to shitty instant. Dean had ruined you.

“Y/N.”

God. You didn’t want to hear it right now.

“Can I please have some peace for five minutes? Is that too hard to ask for?”

“He’s gonna break your heart, and you’re too dumb to realise that.”

You turned to him, mouth falling open, offended. And hurt. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“Woah, okay. Dean’s just looking out for you. We both are.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Ain’t no one calling you one, darlin’,” Beau reassured. “We were just discussing if Ben’s intentions were the same as yours.”

Intentions? What the Hell was this? Some kind of weird intervention?

You scrubbed a hand down your face. It was far too early to be doing this.

“I don’t know what last night was. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. I’m not stupid, okay. I know that it’s not anything to him. Just a bit of fun.”

Dean stood, leaning against a counter with his arms crossed over his chest. He quirked his brows at it being a bit of fun, and for some reason, you felt your neck and cheeks flame from embarrassment.

You gulped down some coffee, scalding your throat. Both Dean and Beau were quiet. Water dripped from the tap, and your stomach gurgled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.

“Maybe…maybe…and It’s a crazy thought. Maybe you shouldn’t sleep beside Ben.”

You blinked in surprise. Excuse me? What? Had you heard that right?

“You picked straws. Ben pulled the shortest. You know that.”

“Yes. I know that. I’m just lookin’ out for ya. And I know Beau agrees with me.”

You looked from Dean to Beau. He opened his mouth, looked at Dean, and then back at you.

“We’re concerned, that’s all. He ain’t a good guy, and what Dean’s proposing is not a bad idea. We’re lookin’ out fer ya.”

You couldn’t believe it.

“Your noses ain’t so clean either. You thought it was funny to take the piss outta Ben in the store. And you’ve left him out of whatever bromance this has become. You guys are the mean guys here. At least Ben’s just being himself.”

You didn’t want to hear any more. You pushed back the chair and left the kitchen with your coffee mug before they could say something else.

You hoped Ben was out of the shower. Hell, at this point, you were thinking of getting back at them by indulging Ben with some morning nookie, as he put it. But you knew you’d just feel guilty after, and you didn’t want to use Ben to get back at Dean and Beau.

You stormed into your room and plonked your mug on the dresser. Ben stood in the middle of the room, drying himself, smirking and shaking his head.

“What?”

“He likes you. Why’d you think he’s ridin’ yer ass so hard? Sweetcheeks, he prolly heard me fucking you so hard. And d’ya wanna know something? I bet it turned him on something real good. Hearing your screams. I bet he jerked himself off. I would’ve.”

You blinked.

“Stop being so crude.”

You barged into the ensuite, leaving Ben to chuckle to himself.

But Ben had got to you. Images of Dean flashed inside your mind. Images of him sitting in bed, head leant back, eyes closed, with his hand wrapped around his cock, fist surging up and down. Heat washed down your body, along with the familiar prickling of arousal. And you wondered. Were they the same size?

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts, @realityshifter111, @p33tamallark, @hobby27, @grxyveins

[trulyumai]

Oh, Mr. Mosses (Series!) IV

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret  of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Now, his Mimic has taken a liking to you too.

Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? Only time will tell.

Author Note: Thank you everyone for enjoying the story, its honestly so fun to write I wish i could update even quicker! If it wasn't for uni i most likely would be. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Warnings: Blood, Obsessive behavior, Stalking, Talk about Death

Also available on AO3!

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy @skully-skeleton-bone0106 @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-tiger-lover78 (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Oh, Mr. Mosses IV

She felt awful, guilt struck through her bones like a heavy fog. The rain hadn’t stopped since the night before, the weather matched her dreary mood and she couldn't help but wither away in bed for most of the day, staring blankly at the popcorn-like ceiling. It would be her fault if someone were to die. She let him in, purposefully let the man walk in without a second thought or action. Frustrated, she grabbed the pillow beside her, throwing it across the room with a defeated huff. 

Her shift started tomorrow night, 5:00 on the dot. Grabbing the sides of her head she glanced toward the window, gray skies filled her vision before she threw herself back onto the duvet.

She saw him when she closed her eyes. That egotistical grin, those sharp teeth- the hands, how they planted themselves around her face like they belonged there. 

That day she uttered nothing to management, passed her employee with only a glance and hadn't been down since the incident. Had she even eaten? She couldn't remember, only lingering tastes of the metallic blood entered her taste buds, as if that monster's finger was still being forced down her throat. 

Holding back a gag she reached toward her nightstand, pulling out a pink and white pill case. Squinting at it she found two clear sleeping pills. 

“This should do the trick,” she mumbled, carelessly popping them in her mouth before hastily reaching for a bottle of water by her bedside. There was no way she could sleep on her own, at least not for tonight 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Pillows were kicked and strewn about the floor, blankets were haphazardly beside her and hanging limply on the mattress. She didn't seem to notice the mess, with her arms by her sides and hair splayed out on the pillow, she snored lightly, blocking out the rain that beated across her window, blocking out the man who stood just above her side of the bed. Wide, black eyes stared down at her. Unblinking they shuffled closer, stepping over a pair of pink slippers thrown haphazardly on the floor. His grin took over most of his face, sharp teeth on display with red stains on his lips. He'd been busy since his arrival, picking apart her neighbor while she slept so soundly. So heavenly. He groaned, letting his blood covered fingers linger on her neck, before descending up towards her face. Pressing his fingers harder until little red dots were smudged across her cheeks. Mr. Capriannis’s blood. 

Cackling quietly to himself he bent down, just so his nose grazed hers. Lightly his warm breath dusted across her face, and even in her sleep she moved away from the man, groaning lightly as she turned her head to face the window. 

“I'll see you tonight, pretty girl,” if he wasn't so hungry, he would have decided to stay, maybe try to get in a few more touches. A few bites. But his urge to kill was getting overwhelming, he had to grind his teeth to stay focused. Light drops of blood began to seep from his mouth, his teeth had seemed to jabbed his lips from the harsh movements and it dribbled down, falling onto the unconscious girl below. The liquid plopped down on her neck, where it smeared and marked the area with its contrasting color. Deciding to leave it there he laughed once more. 

Maybe he’ll pay another neighbor a visit. 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Francis slept terribly. This weather was downright awful, made his life a complete hell and who orders milk on days like this? Mumbling to himself he looked for his hat, it wasn't on its usual hook by the door, which he thought was quite strange. 

Sure, he came home later than usual, his bike route hindered by the many puddles in his path, but he always managed to stay tidy, stay neat. He looked everywhere! The hook, the closet, his bed, the little bathroom and even his poor excuse of a kitchen. It was completely gone and out of sight. Starting to panic he brushed his hair back with one hand, letting it linger while he tried to backtrack. Getting in the prior night he noticed the receptionist was off  of work already, he sighed at the other co worker before delving into the elevator. He knew he had his hat with him, and remembered bunching it up in worry over the little pretty receptionist. 

Frustrated enough, he grabbed his dress shoes. He supposed he would have to look once more after his route. 

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

“There you are 29! Right on time, listen, the boss wants a double shift on schedule, I know it's a little sudden but who are we to say no, right?” The other coworker smiled, it was big, a fake facade made to comfort the already exhausted girl. 

She stood there, arms bunched at her sides as she picked at the sweater littering around her hands. 

“Yeah, I got the message about that this morning.” 

Walking past she slid her ID down the door, checking in for another shift. Waving at the fleeting man she closed the door, rubbing her hands after. It was obvious she was nervous, the backroom didn't feel safe anymore with that thing wandering around. Just before she clocked in she had scanned the building, looking, waiting to see if she saw anything out of the ordinary. 

She didn't. 

Saw nothing, heard nothing. The only thing she noticed was this god awful smell coming from the second floor. Mr. Capriannis must be attempting to make fish again. 

She decided to make a coffee and settle her nerves. Walking quickly she grabbed her favorite mug; a green ceramic cup with frogs all over the handle. 

It was then she noticed she didn't feel quite alone. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, she felt heavy and sweaty, and she could have sworn she kept seeing shadows move from the corner of her eyes. Tapping her fingers against her now filled mug she walked carefully to the desk, where the newly laid schedule stared back at her. 

Only Two people left to check in tonight 

She missed Francis.

  ───────── ౨ৎ ───────── 

Reading through the forms she was sure to check it over at least three times each. Writing down the numbers just in case to ensure everyone's safety. 

Robertsky Peachman 114652289730 Checked in 7:23

-

Dr. W. Afton 250489656214 Checked in 7:45

-

Calling both lines, they were indeed not at the residency, so without pause she handled them separately, allowing them one at a time to step into the premise. 

Before Mr. Peachman left however, he eyed the woman as he bundled up his forms. 

“Oh my, what happened!” He exclaimed, pointing to the column of his throat.

“Your neck, dear, it's bleeding!” Reaching up she touched the base of her throat, her hands met a dry, patchy blotch along her skin. Removing her fingers, she realized he was right; dried blood laid on the tip of her index. 

Throat dry she attempted to lick her lips, thinking about what she did this morning to protrude such an injury.

“Here, here, use my napkin, it looks to be dried over,” With a helping hand he laid his handkerchief through the slot, giving the woman a smile. 

“I- thank you, Mr. Peachman. I don't even remember getting this,” Scratching it against the soft fiber it came off, however something looked… different. 

The blood was thick, almost a reddish black against the cotton. 

“You can keep it, just in case it reopens, I'll see you tomorrow evening little lady!”

With a toothy smile he was off, already pushing the third button on the elevator. 

Yawning, the receptionist began to organize the files around her; everything laid strewn about with her double and triple checking everyone’s forms. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock. 

Halting her movements she tore her eyes away from the cabinet, to the window across. 

It was the employee, the one who had the shift right before her. His eyes were wide, full of anger and his movements were quick. He banged his fist beside the glass, letting out ragged, desperate breaths. 

“What the fuck, 29?!” 

Standing up she shuffled back, grazing her shoulders on the cabinets behind her. 

“I know what you did, you dumb bitch! I saw the footage!”

“28, Please I- I didn't know! I was just trying to-”

He banged his fist once more, “Im calling the D.D.D, They’ll dispose of both of your fucking asses!” Gripping the ID dangling from his neck he ripped it off, walking towards the door that separated them both. 

With quick and desperate movements she ran to the door, pushing the chain lock just across the wood  to halt the man. 

It slammed against the metal, she could see part of him through the slit left open. 

“Let me in! Don't mess this up 29, people will die!”“So I should just let you expose me? So can I be another body thrown in a bag?!” Beating harshly on the door she could see the chain was weakening. One more strong shove and he'd be through. And then what? She’d not only be out of a job, but a place to stay, and who knows if they would let her live after the mistake she made?

That's when she heard it, the slow, dramatic clapping of someone's hands. 

Craning her neck back as best as she could while still maintaining a grip on the door, she gasped audibly. 

There he was; the cause of all her problems. The milkman in disguise. 

“This has been quite entertaining sweetheart, but how much longer are you gonna keep this man around, huh?” Tilting his head to the side he let out a breath of air. 

“I could take care of him, you know. Save you the trouble,” Squinting his eyes he picked at his teeth, the sharp nails dug out chunks of flesh he flicked to the side. 

“No!” She seethed. 

“No one has to die.” Pushing her back against the door once more, she used as much strength she could possibly gather. 

“Aw,” He teased, shaking his head side to side, dragging his dried bloody finger on the wall. 

“You actually believe that, don't you sweet thing?”

Sweat began to build up on her forehead, running down in clear, sticky beads. 

She was going to die. If not by the thing in front of her, then the man busting through the door she was trying so hard to guard. 

Would it be so bad if she had his help? 

What on earth was she saying?! Of course it would be! 

The mimic stepped closer, just until his feet were planted in front of hers, looking straight down at her worried filled orbs. 

“Let me kill for you,” he begged.

Bending his knees he put his hands together, in a praying-like stance. 

“Please, let me help you.”

His eyes were warm somehow, his pupils seemed to be dilated, staring right up at the desperate woman. 

Feeling not only weak from holding the door, but to have this… creature beg to help her, she softened her hold. 

“Okay,” She whispered, staring right back at him as he slowly leaned his arm forward to grab her jaw.

He looked ecstatic, truly happy with her answer and- mesmerized? 

“Don't you worry bout a thing pretty girl,  I'll handle big bad 28 for you,”

Leaning closer once more, he let his face get merely inches from hers. The smell of iron hit her, it wafted across her face contaminating each breath she let in. 

“But you'll owe me one, got it?”

Dumbly nodding her head she relaxed her eyes, she was feeling awfully tired from everything. A wave of exhaustion hit her bones, numbing her mind as her vision began to blur. 

Before the darkness spread over her eyelids she thought of one thing.

A tired raven haired man with his little smile.