Miguel Probably Laughs At You Lowly While You’re Crying On His Cock, Begging To Come. Maybe He Makes

OSCAR ISAAC 2023 | SAG-AFTRA and WGA Strike Picket Line, New York City (September 14)

i would like to talk about the miguel concept art

bonus:

(@cteec on insta)

YOU SLEEP IN THE GUEST BEDROOM AFTER AN ARGUMENT — JUJUTSU KAISEN

feat : gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, geto suguru + nanami kento

ღ warnings — the aftermath of an argument but it’s all fluff, gojo being gojo >.<

ღ note — a lil bit of comfort for you guys with my favourite babies <3

・✶ ｡ﾟGOJO SATORU

you groan when you feel yourself being shaken awake, squinting to allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room—only to be met with a very sleepy satoru looking back at you. his crystalline eyes are a little darker underneath than usual, his hair messier from the endless tossing and turning it feels like he’s done, but his palm is still warm when it rests against your cheek. “morning, how ‘bout you come back to bed, angel, yeah? sleeping so pretty without me, you’re breaking my heart here.” satoru murmurs, his voice raspy and low with sleep and you can’t help but nod at his request when you feel his thumb graze along your cheek soothingly. feeling his arms wrap around you as he gathers you in his arms and guides you back to your shared bed, pressing you tightly against his chest while leaving a few soft kisses against your temple. satoru’s still gentle when he places you down, but there’s a lazy grin on his lips when he’s climbing in next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, his voice smooth as his lips move against the skin of your neck “i know you’re gonna say i’m annoying, but you put up with me so well, baby—and you’re kinda hot when you’re mad.”

・✶ ｡ﾟITADORI YUUJI

itadori blinks at you from his place stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom, his pillow held tightly against his chest as he sniffles, tiptoeing over to your sleeping figure. there’s a wobbly smile on his lips as he gazes down at your peacefully sleeping expression, and he doesn’t hesitate to lift the blanket over you in favour of sliding in next to you. the sudden but familiar warmth causes you to shake wake when you feel his arms pull you against his chest. “yuuji?” you murmur, rubbing your eyes to look at your boyfriend and you watch him pout down at you. “i-i’m sorry, i love you so much.” yuuji breathes, his words a little broken as he exhales shakily, his cheeks still a little damp with tears—he hated arguing with you. but your touch alone soothes him when your hand rests against his broad chest, a comforting silence settling in the room before he speaks again, voice a little steadier this time “we’ll be okay right?” he asks and you soften before you reply “always.”

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi lay awake as he let his words from earlier swim through his head, still expecting you to join him in bed after everything, giving him an opportunity to apologise—but when you don’t, he can’t help but look for you. he knows where you’ll be, but he doesn’t expect to find you in the guest bedroom with damp cheeks and slightly swollen features—the sight weighing heavily on his heart as he blinks down at you, smoothing his thumb along your cheek soothingly. megumi’s touch is chaste but enough to wake you and he exhales shakily when you blink up at him, your eyes still puffy. “gumi?” you whimper and the familiar nickname has hope warming his chest as he kneels down beside you. “i, i just didn’t want you getting cold. do you wanna come back to bed?” megumi breathes, his features soft while a pout sits subtly on his lips and you can’t help but melt when he sends you a gentle smile, his sleepy face framed by his messy dark hair. his hand resting over your own. “we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ GETO SUGURU

you were still awake when you heard a noise from beside the guest bed, nuzzling deeper into the pillow as you squeeze your eyes closed—already missing the familiar warmth of your boyfriend around you. you jolt when you suddenly feel something smooth over your arm, turning to be met with a very sleepy looking suguru as he pouts down at you, his eyes narrowed and heavy with sleep as he crawls in next to you. “relax, pretty. you really think i’d let you go to sleep upset?” he drawls, turning on his side to blink at you before his hand rests against your waist—cautiously, not wanting to make you uncomfortable incase you were still mad. you shuffle closer, giving suguru a nod before he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist and its tighter than usual, hearing him sigh against your skin when he finally relaxes, until he’s pulling back to pull you in for a quick kiss. “hate seeing you sad, baby. turns out i can’t sleep without you either.. we’ll talk tomorrow, alright?”

・✶ ｡ﾟNANAMI KENTO

you’d been trying to sleep for so long so you were already frustrated when you felt yourself being shaken awake gently, blinking the haziness of sleep from your eyes to be met with an equally tired looking nanami as he leans over you. he’d never wanted to let you leave the room but he knew you needed the time alone before he looked for you. “what’re you doing?” you murmur, sitting up slightly and you hear your boyfriend grumble in response, his voice deep as the sound rumbles through his chest “i wont stay if you don’t want me to, sweetheart. just making sure you’re alright is all.” nanami mumbles, returning to tucking the extra blankets he brought from your bedroom around you until you’re securely wrapped, already feeling a lot cosier when he blinks down at you—the lack of sleep visible on his features even in the dim lighting of the room. but despite everything you don’t hesitate to reach for him when he turns to leave, watching him turn with the ghost of a frown on his features “stay” and then you watch it soften before a soft, relieved smile twitches at the corner of his lips.

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

  𝓈ℴ𝒻𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝒹 .ᐟ

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 6.3k word count , fem reader , soff’ dom nanami , bimbo / hyperfeminine reader , sex in a tent ( semi - public ) , meanie gojo , you and nanami are engaged , reader’s twenty four ( 24 ) + nanami’s twenty six ( 26 ) , pet name usage ( ex. baby, little one ) , thigh fucking , fingering , tummy bulgin , cervix kissing , daddy kink , squirting .

maisie’s note to you .ᐟ . . . hai hai haiiii :p i wrote dis like over a year ago so ,, take it easy on lil ol mi<3 i noticed dat my writing style has changed a bit ! minors do not interact !

“do you have everything?”

the sharp clicks of your five inch, baby pink, platformed jimmy choo heels are rhythmic as they tap quickly against the curved, grey cemented footpath in front of your home that leads towards the driveway as you saunter towards your fiancé’s big bodied mercedes-benz gls class truck. you can hear the shuffles and shifts of duffel bags and the wheels of your pink, vintage, dior suitcases and carry ons rolling that nanami had been lugging behind you.

retorting through a gentle coo, you give a, “i have everything nanami,” watching him haul all of your luggage towards the trunk of the car. his muscles flex and constrict underneath the silk, cranberry red button up shirt he wore as he stacks them all atop his two duffel bags like a complex game of tetris and you tilt your head in interest when a piece of blond hair falls across his forehead within his moil and effort.

you can’t help but notice it. he’s so handsome.

releasing a weighty huff from his chest before slamming the trunk closed, nanami dusts off his hands and fixes you with a calm, albeit subtly knowing, honey-brown eyed stare that makes you nibble on the tip of your tapered square acrylic and give him a delicate, innocent smile.

“do you have everything?” he repeats more slowly.

your smile lessens into puffed cheeks and a pout, “yes, i have everything. i think i’d know if i missed something, ‘m not dumb kento—“

“—the minute this car,” he points to it. “leaves this driveway,” his finger flicks downward to the cement, “i’m not turning back. so,” his steps are idle and steady once he starts to walk closer to you. he brings with him an air of effortless authority and sway that makes your knees almost buckle. he smells delicious, too — like, a tinge of burnt vanilla and woodsy tobacco. your eyes are hazy and unfocused when you have to lift them to look up to his tall, six foot height.

nanami notices this and it doesn’t take him by surprise. it’s often more than not that he has to snap his fingers or grip you by the chin with two fingers to center you back down to earth’s gravity. you’re a mess. “do . . . you . . . have . . . everything?” he asks you softly with his index’s knuckle holding your chin up to demand your full, undivided attention. your soft nod is more than enough for him. but you’re his mess.

his voice is still gentle when he mutters, “okay.”

he should probably let you go and open the door so that you two can head out on the road, nevertheless, still, nanami can’t exactly help it. with you this close, he gets a good look at your pretty, no, fucking enchanting face — from your plush lips glittering with your favorite, piña colada scented gloss and the pearls studded along your eyelids that fall into half lids into your irises. “why are you so perfect, hm?”

you grow flustered. you give a tiny squeak and giggle, throwing your arms over his strong shoulders and kick a leg up as you do. the kiss you press against his lips has a bright smack of lipgloss transferring onto them which, oddly, nanami is used to by now. he doesn’t bother to wipe it off, just opens the passenger side’s door so that you can hop up and slide inside the fine, leather interior, then shuts it so that he can round the car and slip into the driver’s.

“i’m so excited,” you’re babbling to him while fluffing your hair and gazing at your reflection through the sun visor’s mirror. “we’re gonna eat s’mores and sing songs and . . .” your words trail off.

nanami thinks it’s because you don’t know what else there is to do. this was your first time going camping — it’s to be expected. “uh,” he rotates the wheel with the heel of his palm while turning onto the freeway’s ramp entrance. “i think you’ll like catching fireflies . . we can go out on a midnight swim in the lake, stargaze—“

“—no,” you whine and fold your arms. “baby, w-wait, i forgot my phone — oh, god, and my lipgloss . . .”

nanami should’ve known. no matter how many times he asked did you have everything, and no matter how many times you answered yes, he should have gone, combed through the house and checked himself. he shakes his head, eyes steady and focused on the road. “i’m not going back,” is all he tells you.

“but nanami—“

“—what did i tell you?” he spares a quick glance at you, not shocked to see a precious, little face full of dejection staring back at him. “i asked you did you have everything, three times. no,” his head shakes again and leans back to start to steer the wheel from atop with one hand while the other arm leans on his door’s armrest. “i’m not going back.”

“. . . kentoooo.”

nanami tells himself that he needs to put his foot down with this one. he won’t give in. he won’t. he won’t.

but you’re something else.

there’s something about you that makes the man bend and succumb to your every desire and wish, no matter how far out or bizarre. he’s aware that not much of anything resides within that pretty head of yours. you weren’t the smartest, or if you could have put it, ‘the sharpest light bulb in the shed’ ( point proven ) but you were his and nanami adored you even so. it’s why he slid a twelve carat diamond ring on that little finger of yours only two years after meeting you for the very, first time.

you had came from a very affluent and well-fixed family — father was the chief financial advisor of a banking corporation and your self-acclaimed hippie of a mother owned a line of essential oils that both housewives and single men alike adored. you had grown up with a golden spoon in your mouth to put straightforwardly, and upon first encounters at a charity gala, nanami had only spoke two sentences to you before he was calling you a spoiled brat with a vacant, impassive expression steamed upon the sharp lines and ridges of his gorgeous face.

you threw a little tantrum, of course — told your daddy on him which, let’s face it, was the most ridiculous and yet, amusing, thing he’s ever seen in all of his, then, twenty four years on earth. ditzy you. you hadn’t known that nanami had met your father before, albeit a few times, and the two of them had formerly established a nice and civil relationship between one another. your face dropping into one of dumbfoundment when you had saw the two shake hands and pick up a conversation on stocks and rising taxes still replays in nanami’s head from time to time.

“you’re the best!” you’re leaning over the middle console to smack a soft kiss into the light scruff of ashen blond hair making home along his jawline when nanami’s climbing back into the car thirty minutes later with your pink iphone and three tubes of lipgloss in hand. “thank you, my love.”

he gives you a simple sigh, “this is the first and last time i’m turning back, do you hear me?”

the hour and a half drive up to the state’s forest is spent with the two of you listening to your customized, ariana grande playlist and you pointing your finger against the window and gasping with glee when you happen to pass a field of cows or horses — tiny, “nanami, nanami! look, look!”s pushing past your lips and him humming and giving you a nod with a slight, “i see, baby.”

having nanami’s big hand clutch your thigh and getting to sit pretty beside him are the only reasons why you enjoy car rides. usually, you’re insufferable. it’s hard for you to keep still sometimes. at home you’re always in the kitchen whipping up new recipes you found on pinterest, irregardless of the fact that you have to run back and forth between it and nanami’s home office to ask him what two thirds of a cup was and what was the point of following the recipe step by step. it had indicated for you to bake the cake at two hundred degrees but you wouldn’t be anything if you weren’t impatient. cranking the heat up to four hundred wouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? it’ll speed up the process.

safe to say, there’s been more than a few instances where all of the windows within your home had to stay opened all night to allow the smell of burnt batter to air out, and nanami keeps a fire extinguisher on hand underneath the sink.

you get to stare at him, too — get to sit and admire his flawless side profile and how his favorite, bronzed rolex wrapped around his wrist gleamed a bright flare into your eyes each occasion the sun’s rays hit it when he happened to turn the wheel. and within the smattery cosmic of your mind upon staring at him for too long, you’re always reminded that you hadn’t known what love had felt like until you met nanami kento.

the words he whispers to you underneath the silent comfort of your bed sheets gives sweet, candied fruit and glacé sorbet a run for their money. the way he kisses your temple when he gathers you within the opulence of his arms is incapable of comparison, nonetheless still, the feeling that blooms within the gates of your heart when he does reminds you of a steaming hot trill of jasmine tea sliding down your throat during a cold day in december. he’s simply everything to you and he makes sure you know that you’re everything to him and more.

“oi! nanami, you’re almost two hours fuckin’ late.”

the sound of shoes scraping against loose pebbles and gravel doesn’t mix well with your whines and aggravated huffs. you’re struggling to walk up the short hill that surfaces out into an open, even plane of dirt that spreads out about five yards length and width — surrounding your campsite is nothing but tall trees of cedar and pine.

gojo had lifted open the flap of the dome tent that had been assembled near the entrance of the trail. he lets out a long, low whistle upon the view of nanami lugging up three duffel bags and two carry ones over his back and arms and places his hands on his hips. gojo gives a bright smile. “that’s what i like to see. you’re working the hell out of him — ah, nanami would you like some help?”

before nanami can cut his eyes at him in annoyance, gojo’s blatantly ignoring him and offering you a hand to help you not twist an ankle on a random stone. he’s laughing when he asks you, “any higher heels and you could’ve broke your neck.”

your eyes are full of fear when they look up into his at the simple thought of that happening, “you think so? should i . . should i have not worn these? but all i brought were heels.”

“you’re fine,” nanami lets the baggage fall to the ground with dull thuds and scowls at gojo. “i’ll carry you on my back if we happen to walk a long distance.”

utahime’s exiting the pop up tent that had been constructed a few feet away from gojo’s and she’s smiling upon the view of you two and immediately pulling you in for a warm hug, “it’s always so nice to see you,” she sighs. “oh!“ her eyes widen upon her first view of an influx of pink suitcases and bags while nanami crouches low to unzip a duffel to start constructing the tent. “you brought a lot.”

“i had to,” you bite your bottom lip over a pretty grin. “you didn’t? but . . — nanami am i the only one who brought so many things?” your eyes are cutely wide with the new revelation.

gojo nods, “yes.”

though at the same time nanami tells you, “no,” he even looks up at you from what he’s doing to assure you that. “you brought just enough, angel.”

and his word is always right. your pretty face brightens again and you clap your hands quickly, “okay, good,” you giggle. “can i help you build the tent?”

nanami’s giving you the go ahead, allowing you to walk over and grab the pamphlet of instructions. upon first opening it, you’re greeted with black and white pictures of what was supposed to be in the kit and there’s arrows pointing to where and how you’re supposed to assemble poles and hooks. your brain quickly goes haywire. “hm,” you bite your bottom lip.

gojo’s calling out, “ah, don’t stress yourself out too much, sweetheart.”

you huff a pout and nanami’s letting a small smile lift his lips as he gently pries the pamphlet from your manicured fingers. truthfully, he just wanted to see how you’d react to them, see if you’d try to stick it out and try to understand them or not. he knows that you will, you always try to, however, “i got it,” he takes one of your hands and pulls it close to stow a sweet kiss upon your knuckles. “why don’t you go rest your pretty feet in utahime’s tent while i get finished with ours, huh?”

the sugarcoated pout that takes over your lips has nanami’s heart in a vise. “but . . i want to help. i’m not dumb, kento—“

“—i know you aren’t but, still this is hard and i don’t want you fussing over this, beautiful. gotta save all that intellect for later on in our trip.”

he always knows what to say. your pout starts to lift into a smile which you try to fight but he sees right through it. as much as you know you can be a little dense headed, you try just as hard to power through it. nanami thinks it’s cute. his eyes glow akin to seas of liquid gold when he smiles and kisses your knuckles again. “go on.”

you sigh a little, “fine.”

the minute you’re inside the tent with utahime, nanami’s smile is falling upon first look at gojo. “one more slick comment and your head’s going to be floating in that fucking lake.”

there’s a big, gum-showing smile stretching his cheeks as the man leisurely walks over to nanami who starts to separate the materials into separate piles. “two years, man . . and you’re engaged to her,” he sucks his teeth and crouches down beside him. “gotta give you your props, nanami.”

“just admit it, satoru,” nanami doesn’t need the instructions. he flicks them away with a finger and starts to assemble the tent as if he had done it dozens times before. “you’re mean to my fiancé because you want to fuck her.”

the splutters that follow nanami’s words are loud however, both men know that they are true. gojo acknowledges that there’s no point in lying. once nanami kento has his mind made up about something, there’s no point in trying to change it. “so what?” is all he says while childishly flinging a pebble nanami’s way so that it hits his arm. “she’s pretty . . and she’s dumb. what more can you ask f—“

gojo prides himself on having quick reflexes . . and nanami does the same.

the second the blond reaches out to snatch his neck up and around so that his arm is wrapped around it and gojo’s in a headlock, the other man is tilting his body weight back so that nanami falls flat on his back and he has his arms wrapped around his legs to keep him from kicking.

“let me go.”

“you let go first.”

gojo digs his fingernails into nanami’s forearm but his grip is only tightening. he’s hardly able to breathe, let alone talk. “. . f-fuck, alright! sorry, sorry!”

“for what?”

gojo holds his tongue and nanami pulls his arm tighter around his neck by tugging at it with his free hand. “s-shit!” gojo hisses. “damnit, nanami! your girl—“

“—wife,—“

“—alright, your fucking wife! i won’t act like a dick anymore.”

both men release each one another simultaneously. gojo rubs his neck with a slight smirk on his face while nanami goes back to assembling the tent calmly. “what kind of pussy does she own?”

the sharp, thunderous crack of nanami’s knuckles colliding into the bridge of gojo’s nose is loud enough for a flock of birds perched a few trees away to squawk and quickly soar away with heavy wings flapping against their bodies.

you had thought that camping would be like how it was portrayed in movies and television shows; with everyone in the group circling around the fire singing songs, eating hotdogs, just having a grand time.

you hadn’t expected this.

it’s only day two of the trip and you’ve been bitten at the ankle and collarbone of all places by pesky mosquitos, your hair’s been frizzing up due to the humidity of being so high up in the forest, and you’ve barely been sleeping the past two nights because all you hear are cicadas and the constant, piercing shrill of crickets. sometimes, you think they’re going to slither underneath the protective flaps and layering of the tent and crawl inside of your mouth.

you’re sobbing to nanami come evening of day three, “baby . . baby, look at me! i’m a mess!”

nanami’s clicking his tongue fondly and pulling you by the waist so that you stand between his legs. he’s seated on the full sized cot inside of your tent that you had cutely decorated with plush throw blankets and fluffy pillows layering the flooring. you’ve never missed your california king sized bed more than you did now. “no, you don’t—“

“—these bites are itchy,” you reach up to scratch at the stupid nip focused right near the edge of your left collarbone that seemed to be growing and becoming more irritated by the hour. “and . . and as much as i like showering in the pretty waterfall, i miss bubble baths and eating steak and steamed lobster and caviar with crackers.”

nanami’s looking up at your pout and he tries to fight it, he does, but he can’t help but break out into a smile which he quickly hides by bowing his head and clearing his throat. unfortunately, you still catch it. you smack his shoulder, “can you stop laughing at me?”

“i’m not, i’m not. look at me,” he’s gathering your attention and grabs you by the waist to pull you in again and kiss your tummy softly. “i told you to stop scratching them. you’re only going to make them bleed.”

you watch him reach for the first aid kit he had placed underneath the cot to unfasten and grab a small tube of benadryl which he opens and dots a good amount on his finger. “c’mere.”

you have to take a seat on the thigh of one of his legs so that he’s able to rub the cooling gel over the bite and massage it in. it’s so comforting — the feeling of the sharp sting slowly dwindling and ebbing away into nothing, as well as nanami’s palm, slightly calloused from past years of sorcery work rubbing into your skin. unknowingly, you melt into him and nanami notices. “feels good?” he asks you delicately, watching you pout and nod and lay the side of your face against his shoulder. “i think you just had a long day, sweet girl,” he sighs.

you have a feeling that he’s right . . nanami always is.

“how about you get some rest, hm?” he kisses your temple after he rubs the medication into the bite on your ankle. you don’t bother to fight.

you slip into your pajamas on your own and climb underneath the comforter to lay your head on a pillow. it has been a long day. usually you fight your sleep however tonight, it washes over you without a blink missed. even so, you don’t overlook the soft kiss your fiancé presses against your cheek as you let the dark cloaks of slumber enfold you.

with you going to sleep so early, the end of your last rem cycle wakes you up at approximately 4.17 am, giving you a good nine hours of sleep you hadn’t even known you needed — furthermore proving that nanami knows best.

the man lays beside you, fast asleep, facing you with a bare arm thrown over your torso, keeping you close against his own chest. in the quiet of the early morning, you’re able to lay and stare at him without shying away from his eyes that always seemed to bore holes into your own.

you’re able to carefully lift your hand and trace invisible lines around the natural, soft arch of his brow, the strong, straight, downward slope of his nose, and across the plush dip of his cupidsbow with your small fingers. he’s so . . . pretty, so . . . strong. he always manages to make you feel protected, even so with just one arm wrapped around you. the joy that sprouted in your heart when he had proposed to you stays unmatched to this day.

him? he wanted you to be his wife? to love, to cherish, to hold past the end of time, to grow old with, to go on crazy, little adventures with, to have kids with? you?

the one who had always been the butt of jokes as a little girl, the one who had countless of men wanting to bed but not wed since the age of eighteen. you didn’t understand. in a way, you still don’t, albeit, you’ve learned to push those thoughts aside and focus on the now. you have him and he has you.

with a smile, you kiss his lips.

you keep kissing him until he starts to kiss you back, and though he’s making little grunts and grumbles at having his sleep disturbed, you ignore them because you just can’t help it. sometimes the happiness just hits you in your chest with a big surge and you have to let it out.

you drag your left leg up his hip to hold and tilt your body weight so that you flip him over onto his back and end up straddling him. nanami’s looking up at you through foggy eyes and you’re staring down at him with a big grin. “it’s . .” he reaches for his phone on the floor, powers it on then squints at the screen. “four in the morning, little one. what’s goin’ on?”

“nothin’,” you sing softly and slide your hands slowly up the rocky plane of his abs to his pectorals. “i just . . i missed you.”

nanami’s confusion is written all over his face. he’s not much of a morning person, you know this. “. . i’m right here.”

he is. all blond haired, brown eyed, six feet of him.

you sigh and lean down to capture his lips with yours once more, cupping the side of his face with one of your palms, feeling the scruff of his five o’clock shadow underneath it. you hope he’s able to feel the love you have for him pouring out of you with each click of your lips separating, and at the way you sigh out sweetly through your nose in content, and when your hips start to rock against his firm morning wood, hidden underneath his sweats. for what you’re unable to describe through words, you make sure he’s able to feel it.

“oh, i get it now,” he says. his voice is hushed.

surrounding your tent is nothing but silence, save for the slight rush of water from the waterfall a couple yards away. it’s deadly quiet.

nanami can see that his baby wants, though. can see it in the way your eyes go half lidded and you pull your thumb up to nibble on the nail when he grabs you by the hips, lifts his thigh up and starts to make you rub your needy, little cunt over it.

“a-awh!”

nanami covers your entire mouth with his palm. your eyes are big. “shh, shshsh,” he whispers. there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “i know it’s hard for you to understand words when you get like this. isn’t that right?”

you nod shakily.

“but you have to be quiet, you hear me?”

you nod once more. nanami trusts you. he drops his hand to have it grab your hips again to work you steadily back and forth, back and forth. his pace is unhurried . . he works you as if there’s a slow tune playing in the background that only he hears and knows. it feels good. the much needed friction of the lace of your panties and the cotton of his sweats rubbing up against your clit already has your eyes going bleary and unfocused as you look down at him.

“keep lookin’ at me — that’s right,” nanami still feels the tinctures of sleep passing through his veins. it has his own eyes growing heavy and his limbs feel like they weigh a ton, however if anything, the drowsiness makes this feel better. he’s able to slowly lower his thigh to instead shift you over his cock and you, already so dumb, simply sit on it, waiting for him to buck you back and forth again. “can you take this off for me?” he tugs at the button down you wore that belonged to him. it’s oversized — hangs off of your body like a duvet, stopping near the beginning of your knees and continuously slipping off of the hill of your shoulder.

your little fingers work hurriedly and your acrylic nails tap and click against each other as you do. with each strip of skin that’s shown, he feels his brain spiraling deeper and deeper into a portion full of nothing but you.

nanami prides himself on being an intelligent man. having gone to one of the top universities in the country, secured a job as a stockbroker, and he’s still on call for the occasional curse job here and there; he’s aware that he’s very well rounded.

but around you . . . sometimes, he’ll admit, he goes a little dumb, too.

“fuck.” it shows when he makes his hand fall down upon your ass with a loud smack that makes you yelp and he’s positive gojo and utahime must’ve heard it. “mmm.”

he groans, lifts up and plants a kiss right over your heart before he’s stamping a path to one of your nipples and collecting it inside of his mouth. you’re whimpering quietly, holding onto his shoulders and now beginning to swirl your hips over his cock to feel more. “daddy.”

nanami rolls the small bud over his tongue and lightly pulls it with his teeth until it’s hard, standing upright, and laminated with his spit. only then, does he turn to the other to give it the same attention.

you’re hiccuping now, bucking a little harder which makes the cot start to creak.

“mm — be still,” nanami’s voice comes out in a low gruff that makes you obey, even if you really, really didn’t want to. his tongue is clever and his teeth are sharp . . they nip and bite all over your tits and neck until bruises the tone of maroon and wine bloom all over the canvas of your skin. nanami can’t help but smack one, just to watch the flesh jiggle before he’s laying back down, pulling you with him, and rolling you over until you both are laying on your sides.

you don’t need him to ask, or rather, you’re too eager to do it yourself, but you push down his sweats just enough for his cock to spring up and out into the open air. it hits his lower tummy with a slap . . long, thick, and drooly; you scoot closer to nanami to grab it and carefully slide it between the small opening of your thighs, watching his eyes close at the feel.

“oh, shit,” he groans and carefully starts to thrust his hips while holding yours to keep you still. the tightness the smooth, soft skin of your thighs provide him with is heavenly. “already doin’ so good for me. just . . k-keep still, let daddy use you for a little while, huh?”

you’re letting out these little pants because with each thrust, your clit’s still getting stimulated by the roof of his cock and it’s just enough for your eyes to roll back into your skull as your mouth falls open. “feels . .” you swallow the glob of saliva pooling on your tongue. “f-feels s’good, daddy.”

hazy, lust filled eyes usually the tone of honey darken into a more muddy gold. they dart over your blissed out face, your bruised tits jiggling and squishing down into the bed with each movement of your arms, and the lewd image of his cock pressing in between the doughy skin of your thick thighs. nanami can cum from the sight alone.

“nanami . .” you’re gasping when he picks up a quicker rhythm, eyes lifting to look up into his.

“so fucking loud.”

his next movements are quick. he pulls his cock from between your thighs, snatches down your panties which don’t even make it past one of your calves; just stays wrapped and tangled around it, then he’s flipping you over and pulling your back into his chest. you’re panting, needy body wriggling and squirming against him. you want him . . . you need him. nanami kento to you is what pollen is to a bee, flame to a moth, gravity is to everything on fucking earth. “please,” you’re sobbing. “please, daddy. p-please.”

“fuck are you whining for, huh?”

his words are mean but his voice is gentle and sweet. he licks his fingers and carefully directs them between your legs, not surprised to feel you absolutely dripping. you’re a mess. two of his fingers are sliding inside your sticky cunt with a loud squelch when they bottom out and he watches your body shiver all over as you push your ass further back to somehow feel more. “so greedy,” he whispers, fucking them in and out to hear those toe-curling, mouth-watering squelches echo inside of his ears. “so, so good for me.”

his praise makes you simultaneously melt against his body yet tighten around his fingers as a new rush of slick gushes out of you.

you can’t describe the joy you feel when he pushes his arm underneath your head to give you some leverage, lifts your leg up with the other and starts to rub his throbbing dick between your puffy lips, giving you both some well needed friction. he’s overwhelming every single one of your senses.

you smell his cologne, feel his body all over yours, taste him underneath the musk of you when he carefully slides his fingers past your lips, hear him coo’ing underneath his breath at how pretty you look.

when he finally pushes inside of you, it’s like breaking down a dam. you’re crying at the ungodly pleasure it brings, no, he brings. your dumb, little mind can’t handle it. “thank you,” you’re babbling and hiccuping. “d-daddy . . daddy—“

“—i know, baby. i know,” nanami tilts his face closer to align his lips atop of yours to swallow each little gasp and whine once he suddenly slams in. “daddy knows.” he doesn’t want to torture you any longer. you’ve been so good for him these past couple days, so good to him. you deserve this. you deserve everything your airy little brain and big, lovable heart desires.

he fucks you slow . . . and deep. carefully pulls his hips back and alternates between driving them back forward leisurely and swirling his hips to angle up into that one, gummy bundle of nerves that has a pool of drool forming underneath your chubby cheek. “that’s my good girl,” he’s whispering, holding your shaky leg up by the back of your knee so that you both can watch his fat and heavy balls smack against your swollen clit with a sticky tap each time he bottoms out. “takin’ it so good . . does it feel good?”

your nods are slow as if they’re trying to catch up with your quivering body. you’ve gone non-vocal and now nanami knows that you feel especially good. it makes him smile atop your lips before he’s pressing one last peck against them and pulling his face back to get a good look at you once his pace and strength quickens.

your mouth drops, eyebrows furrow, and cute nose scrunches up.

“there it is.”

the smacking of skin is loud and distinct, and he knows that it’s evident what you two are doing by now and he knows that you two are a little loud but nanami can’t bring himself to care about that anymore. you just feel so good. you’re tight and you’re wet and having you so close makes him feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest and swell bigger than a balloon at the same while.

“oh god,” you’re hiccuping and holding onto the ledge of the creaking cot. “oh my . . god, kento.”

the diamond encrusted anklet around your ankle dangles the letters K&N. believe it or not, you had actually been the one to surprise nanami with it eight months ago when you came home from one of your day-long shopping sprees. seeing his initials dangling off a piece of jewelry so dainty and pretty on you had woken something inside of nanami that he hadn’t even known was dormant. each time he sees it, he wants to break you, and coincidentally, you never take it off.

nanami bends your leg almost all the way back until your thigh nears your shoulder just to hear the way the letters jingle as they hit each other. “fuck,” he curses, eyes cycling back into his head. “f-fuck.”

your moans are so pretty — high pitched, breathy, and broken. you have his hips stuttering prior to him starting to fuck you harder. you hadn’t even known he could but he’s proving you wrong at the way you can feel your ass clapping back off of his slim hips with each push of them against it. you’re babbling shaky ‘daddy’s’ and ‘t-too much’ while he just keeps you still.

his voice is trembly and quiet when he says, “a-almost there, sweet thing. you’re almost there.”

you’re going to make a mess — you feel it in the way your pedicured toes curl and how your clit seems to pulsate harder by the second. “hhnnng,” your brain is driven so empty that you can’t even say it.

your cum gushes out of you in fast, long spurts that manages to hit the floor past the edge of the bed. the rest dribbles out in ripples and tides, getting all over nanami’s balls and both of your thighs. he powers you through it; never stops nor decreases his pace, he keeps you right where he wants you, forcing you into overstimulation. you’re squeaking, “ ‘nami — daddy . . w-wait — oh, stars!”

nanami feels his own edge getting closer. he slips himself over you so that he’s on top yet he keeps your one leg up and stretched and soon grabs the other to do the same and folds you into a perfect mating press.

you have a love hate relationship with the position. you love it because you get the perfect view of your fiancés fat, long cock dropping into and pulling out of your sloppy pussy. you get to see his tummy fold as he bends to keep his neck from straining and you especially love how you can see the print of his cock pushing against the skin of your stomach, further showing you just how big he truly is.

but, still, you’re always so easily overwhelmed because with this position he digs in deep. his tender tip bumps against your cervix, rubbing up against it and your g-spot. it’s a weird feeling. sometimes, all you can sob is, “h-hurts so good.” thankfully, he understands.

“doin’ so good for me.” pieces of blond hair fall across his forehead and jump in time against it with his thrusts. the way he’s staring down at you makes you shake. “can you give me another one?” he licks his thumb before pressing it against your clit and dragging tiny, quick circles on it. “give daddy one more, princess. please, baby. just . . one more.”

you’re so weak. you can only nod wordlessly and let your body give into his. you let him fuck you until his name is the only thing that rings in your brain, until your pussy’s aching with the stretch of him battering it sore, until you’re squirting again for the second time . . getting nanami’s lower torso and your own dirty with your fluids.

you make him smile. “there we fuckin’ go.”

his own orgasm creeps up on him slow. it starts from his feet, makes him curl his toes once he feels the thick flames licking at the base of his gut before it surges up to his calves — they tense, along with his thighs. and his jaw’s clenching tighter come the swelling of his balls filling with cum. he’s gripping your thighs until they start to bruise. “fuck . . fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he’s grunting, making his hips slam into your ass at the pace of his words before ultimately, it’s hitting him with a grand slam.

his balls draw tight before the first shot of thick, opaque white is bursting inside of your womb. nanami goes scarily still and throws his head back with the muscles in his neck straining as he fucks his cum as deep as it can go with jerky little tilts of his hips.

you mewl.

you feel warm inside . . and exceptionally full.

he’s pumping you swollen, filling you up with his thick seed until he can no longer fill you anymore. “fuck,” he’s breathing hard, dropping his head and looking down at you.

you’re so fucking cute. you just . . lay there with a stupid, little smile of content on your face and hazy eyes as you massage his thighs with your small fingers as if you weren’t the one, one move away from being folded into a fucking pretzel. nanami chuckles. oddly enough, he’s thinking back to gojo’s question from earlier in the trip . . . what kind of pussy do you own? for him to feel on top of the moon like this, he’s convinced you’re just a figment of his imagination.

however, upon leaning down, kissing your lips, and intertwining his fingers between the spaces of yours, nanami knows that you’re one hundred percent true.

❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © poutsiez !

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

llewyn davis x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: face sitting

warnings: piv sex, obvious face sitting, oral (f receiving)

word count: 1.4k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

(a/n; there's a part inspired by this post, hi @my-secret-shame <3)

Today was one of those days. Not especially a tiring one, but a long one, one that seemed to drag out forever, that felt like was never gonna end. 

You had understood this the second Llewyn joined you at your table at the Gaslight. 

He didn’t tell you much; didn’t need to. He had an expressive face, but you liked the idea that you had somehow come to know it all by just looking at his eyes.

He had quietly settled beside you, capturing your lips in a kiss before lighting himself a cigarette and watching the act in front of him until the time would come for him to play. 

The day only seemed to get painfully longer as he got on stage, having to witness Pappi taking advantage of the situation to hit on you despite knowing damn well that Llewyn was your boyfriend; he would punch him in the face if Pappi wasn’t the one to let him play at the Gaslight, if he wasn’t contributing to the rare occasions for him to make some money.

The moment you got home is the moment you truly realized how done he was, how exhausting carrying the weight of his day over his shoulders had been.

You watched as he hastily and messily kicked off his shoes, throwing his coat over the nearest surface, and you followed closely as he quickly beelined to the bedroom to then sprawl onto your bed, tapping his lap to invite you to straddle him. 

So you did, knees as either side of him, his hands gently rubbing up and down your thighs as he told you about his never ending day.

It was endearing, the way he was looking up at you and smiling lovingly, as if it was the only thing he still had the strength for. You ran your hand through his hair as you listened to him talk, your fingers grasping his chin to kiss him once he was done.

Both of his hands grabbed the back of your neck to bring you closer and deepen the kiss, shifting to roam down your body once his tongue slipped inside your mouth. 

His fingers toyed and fiddled with the waistband of your trousers, and it didn’t take long for you to decide to remedy that, stripping out of your clothes as he mirrored your actions, sighing as you eventually lowered yourself down onto his cock while he lit a cigarette.

There is something so deeply arousing about this, about him nonchalantly smoking his cigarette while you are riding him.

It is a slow pace, almost lazy; a focused frown has grown over Llewyn’s face, cigarette tucked between his lips, one hand settled at your hips, guiding you up and down, his other hand trapping the stick between his fingers, momentarily pulling it away from his mouth to mindlessly blow the smoke to the side, eventually putting it out once it is done consuming. 

You lean to kiss him now that his mouth is accessible, his tongue mingling with yours, the familiar taste of nicotine in his warm breath.

His hand sets at your cheek while you kiss, shifting to tangle in your hair, setting over your waist when you pull away once it becomes necessary.

“Stop riding me” his voice is sudden, a bit rough, and you oblige. You stop, immediately interrupt the rolling of your hips, afraid something is wrong, but his thumb is gently rubbing circles over your skin so you’re even more confused. 

“I wanna try something” he declares as he shifts to adjust his position, tucking the pillow comfortably under his head. 

Your curiosity is piqued, you’re always eager to try new things with him. You raise an eyebrow and your mouth starts to gape to ask for what he has in mind, but he speaks before you get the chance to.

“Ride my face” he suggests as his hands settle back to your hips, and he feels you clench around him as he pronounces the words.

Oh.

You had experience in riding him, but not that way.

Llewyn had also eaten you out plenty of times before, but always in ways where he could control what he was doing, and where there were no actual risks for you to harm him.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you” you mutter just loud enough for him to hear, your hand coming to wrap around his forearm.

“Dove, if I suffocate in your pussy I’ll be the happiest man on earth.” he jokes, a playful, reassuring smile over his face as he squeezes your sides, a laugh slipping from your mouth. “You’re not gonna hurt me angel” 

You nod, the simultaneous feelings of apprehension and excitement pooling in your belly.

You lift a leg up to lift yourself up from his cock, a small whine leaving your mouth at the loss, shifting to then crawl and place yourself so you could straddle his chest.

“You’re sure about this?” you ask, looking down at him.

“A hundred percent. C'mon, get that pretty thing over my face"

You get yourself onto your knees, either of them caging his face, and he licks his lips as he takes in the sight above him, staring at the slick starting to drip down onto the insides of your thighs.

“If something’s wrong, slap my thigh real hard” you suggest. 

He scoffs, gripping onto your hips. “Sure thing, c’mon baby.”

You bite down onto your bottom lip, cautiously lowering yourself down onto his face, holding tight onto the headboard of the bed, careful not to put your whole weight down on him.

You can’t help the moan that slips from your lips; the first contact of his tongue over your folds feels heavenly, and a small gasp quickly follows when he pulls down onto your hips to bring you closer to his face, almost smothering himself in you.

“Shit, Llewyn” you keen, your head dropping as you bite down onto your lip.

His hand quickly comes to fist his cock, missing the feeling of your tight cunt around it though really, the taste of it and your sounds alone could work him to an orgasm.

Words can barely escape from your mouth, you're only able to deliver parts of them when he’s mouthing at your cunt like a starved man, licking into you like it was the last time he was ever going to.

“O-ooh yeah– just like that” you whine as the abrasive feeling of his beard against your sensitive skin brings an extra sensation, starting to really roll your hips onto his face, truly fucking yourself on his tongue, way less cautious about your movements now that pleasure has taken over your other senses.

“Baby, I’m close,” you breathe out after some time, – quicker than usual, frankly – struggling to get the words out between moans, the task so challenging when his nose starts rubbing against your clit.

He hums into you in response, the hand at your hip squeezing harder onto your flesh, the hand at his cock pumping it more firmly to make sure you would both cum at the same time.

Your eyes squeeze tight, nails almost digging in the wooden headboard when the feeling grows inside of you and makes your mouth fall agape, a long, broken, noise-complaint-worthy moan escaping as you cum over his tongue.

Llewyn’s low, deep grunt resonates against your sensitive pussy as he fists his cock and pulses into his own hand, the vibrations of the moans and grunts leaving his mouth prolonging your climax as you come together.

You climb off of him once it’s over for the both of you, placing yourself beside him, still standing onto your numb, shaking knees, your forehead resting against the brim of the headboard while you try to catch your breath and regulate the beating of your heart. 

“Good?” he asks, and you can hear the slight rasp in his voice after being deprived of air for some time.

“Are you kidding me” you chuckle, breathless. “That mouth of yours has other talents than just singing.” you turn and really sit on the bed, giving your quivering legs a rest.

You look down at him as he chuckles, his mouth and bearded chin glistening with your juices, the sight making your stomach turn in the best way possible.

Then it hits you, the delayed worry, the possibility that it might have not been enjoyable for him, or maybe even uncomfortable.

“Was it alright for you? Did I hurt you?”

“Did you feel me slap your thigh real hard?”

—

inside llewyn davis taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @spxctorsslxt

+ @flightlessangelwings

I love hobie brown. I wish british people were real..

love you like the sun came out

ˣ pairing: steven grant x reader

ˣ summary: steven spends an evening with two of his absolute favorites— the egyptian exhibit at the museum and you.

ˣ warnings: purely fluff + cheesy love declarations but we need it ;_;

ˣ a/n: this is just a ficlet i whipped up after bawling my eyes out at the end of episode 5. marvel better watch out bc i’m sending them a bill for my therapy this week lololol. hope you enjoy!

Keep reading

hey love!

i was wonderin' if you can do a soft poe hc? your last request got me all soft. i just wanna see him & reader pining for one another, all fluff! thank you ᥫ᭡ 

hi dear! you got it :]

⭑ before he leaves for a fight/mission, he'll kiss your head and whisper reassurances that he'll be okay and that things will be alright. he'll also remind you of how much he loves you. when he's truly about to go, he gives you the tightest most loving hugs ever. he loves you more than anything in the galaxy.

⭑ he leaves sweet notes around where you guys are currently staying (you guys move around a lot due to the fight with the first order) for you to see when he's gone. you've found them on the bathroom mirror, on your blaster, in your shoes, really just everywhere. he wants to do what he can to make sure you feel loved while he's away.

⭑ he carved your guys' initials into your blaster before he gave it to you. he felt better knowing he was the one who gave it to you and that you'll be safe.

⭑ he's very possessive and loves kissing you when someone is eyeing you. you're his and he wants people to know that. he always holds your hand when you guys are out, he wants everyone to know you're taken, taken by him.

⭑ he loves cooking together, he's always down for trying new recipes when you guys have the time. he likes to come up behind you and tickle your sides (as long as you're not holding something sharp or hot) when you're not expecting it. he enjoys messing with you but it's never anything too serious.

⭑ he brings you up to finn and rey a lot, he will talk people's ears off going on about you. he's so proud that you're his.

⭑ if he hears that there's something you want, he'll do whatever he can to try to get you that thing. he loves seeing you happy and surprising you with thoughtful gifts.

⭑ big spoon alert! he's so protective over you and loves spooning you, he feels secure knowing you're safe in his arms.

⭑ when he's home, he cannot keep his hands off of you. he's constantly pulling you in for hugs, kissing you, massaging you, all of it. he's big on physical touch.

And I’m going to kiss you, Mr. O'Connell. Call me Rick.

Between Your Thighs

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // Miguel loves you with his entire heart and you love taking care of Miguel.

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Inspired by “505” by Arctic Monkeys. Can’t stop, won’t stop writing for Miguel, I just can’t. REQUESTS ARE FINALLY OPEN!!

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 890

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Gender neutral reader, mentions/description of intercourse, sexual content, receiving (male), pet names (Mi amor), swearing, dacryphilia, deep throating…

If there was one thing about Miguel that everyone knew, it would be that he was never vulnerable around anyone. Especially to those who he just met, but there was something off with you. Your kind nature towards him made him want to tear his walls down almost immediately. Even if it was going to end up as a single night, nothing more.

But he loved the way your hands trailed down his chest, the way your nails dug into his back, the way you gave every ounce of your love towards him, to a man you barely knew. It wasn’t until he popped the question while in bed that he knew he chose the right one.

And when Miguel isn’t working all day and night, he’s the embodiment of a house husband. He knows how difficult he is at times and he’s happy that you’re so patient.

He especially loves those nights where you let him relax under your touch.

Miguel’s back hit the bed, his head hitting the soft material. His lower half of his body hangs off the edge of the bed.

You watch him carefully, your hand wraps around his hard length, applying pressure from the base to his tip where your thumb pressed against lightly. Teasing and massaging his tip.

Before you could take him into your mouth, you hear him let out a groan, and his hands immediately dig into the bed sheets.

Few pumps with your hand and he moans louder when he feels your warm mouth. You bob your head slowly, swirling your tongue around his length. There were even times where you pulled away to place kisses on his thighs.

You pay attention to Miguel’s moans, hollowing your cheeks which makes him thrusts his hips.

“Amor!” Miguel hisses.

You look up to find his head thrown back, his breathing ragged and quick, you could guess that his eyes are squeezed shut.

Suddenly, you felt a hand come and grasp the back on your head, forcing you to take him deeper. He seems to forget the fact of his claws, how careful he was whenever the two of you did something like this.

But you always reassured him that you placed your trust in him.

“Please!” He begged, lifting his head and his eyes meeting yours, “Please.” He repeated, eyes watering.

The sight of him made you smile around his length. You closed your eyes, letting him control your movements and allow him to fuck your face.

Miguel lets out heavy moans as he thrusts his hips faster. You didn’t know when he sat up and both hands were holding your head.

But you enjoyed the sight of his eyes squinting, his face flushed a bright red, and he looked so beautiful in the moment that you forgot that you were gagging around his cock.

But your eyes began to water as well. As much as you tried to control it, you couldn’t stop it from falling.

Luckily he didn’t catch on or else he’d stop.

He continued until he came into your mouth. He pushed you down all the way to his base.

As you swallowed, you rose to your feet and watched Miguel catch his breath.

“Are you alright?” You ask.

His head hands low, “I should be asking you the same question.” He pants, looking up and I see his watery eyes, “I’m so-”

“I’m alright, Miguel. You didn’t hurt me.”

Then it hits him, “I could’ve-”

“But you didn’t. That proves how much control you have over them.”

Miguel lays back, “…That was amazing though.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He opens his arms and you lay in them, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Placing a kiss on his forehead, falling asleep in his arms.

Your eyes flutter open, the smell of coffee hitting your nose immediately. And at the foot of the bed, Miguel is hunched over.

“Morning.”

He smiles, leaning over to hand you a mug, “Morning.”

“You’re up early.”

“Yeah, I’ve suddenly got another project. Which means-”

“Another all-nighter.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head as you sip your coffee, “It’s not your fault.”

Miguel comes over to you, hugging you tightly, “I’ll make it up to you.”

You smile, “You don’t gotta, being with you is enough for me.”

You watch him get up from the bed and leave the bedroom. It wasn’t like he was leaving for work, he preferred to work at home so he had his own office. So, it was easier to check up on him.

Once you finished your coffee, you got ready for the day, showered, dressed in comfortable clothes and started fixing the bed first. Next came laundry, and the housework.

Hours later, you knocked on the door to his office, “Miguel, I brought you your food.” You heard him hum loudly, letting you enter his office.

With a plate in hand, you set it next to his hand, “Thank you, mi amor.”

“How’s the project going on so far?”

“Going great, might be done in a couple of hours.” He hums as he feels your fingers run through his hair, “Come m’ere.”

You set yourself on his lap, both of your hands in his hair, “May I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” He mumbles, relaxing into your touch.

“How long have you been hard?”

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.