sexting —s. hitoshi
✦ tw / cw: (18+) characters aged up ! pro hero au / male masturbation, established relationship (marriage mentioned), idk
──────── ⌯⌲ (1) new message!
shinso was so lazy.
he propped his phone on the desk with his lavender locks just out of view, shifting the device to focus the camera on how hard he was— straining the thin material of his black boxers. behind him is what you can vaguely make to be his office at the agency, after hours.
spreading his muscular thighs crafted from years of underground hero work, he lets you fully see his pretty cock suction to the imprisonment of his boxers. knowing your husband, hitoshi couldn't even be bothered to take his twitching dick out of the delicate confinement, visually teasing you.
from the screen, you can see the clear shape of his length. corpulent head outlined perfectly, every vein and curve on display. his fat cock leans against the thin fabric, protruding out and leaking sticky pre.
he huffed a few breaths as he carelessly kneaded his leaky tip, growing damp spot swiftly forming at his swollen head.
deep groans could be heard as he transitioned to stroking his base, wrapping his slender fingers amongst the clothed cock. needy twitches jolt his confined member against the cotton, adding the most euphoric friction to his vulgar movements.
the weary man shivered while picking up his rhythm, abs tensing behind the thin material of his t-shirt. each spasm inched him on, sloppy thrusts into his big palm override any sense of teasing.
his speed quickens as he reached an early climax— too overwhelmed with the idea of you opening this dirty message to keep edging himself further. fat beads of precum leak through his boxers, drenching the dark garment. teasing grunts become uncontrollable mewls, the perverted man too consumed in his own pleasure.
when he cums its messy and rugged— hips jerking mindlessly into his hand as he tries to secure any friction with the barrier between his assets. thick ropes of cum spill onto his boxers, staining a silver patch onto the crotch, white droplets seeping through the delicate fabric.
hitoshi ends the video by slouching just enough to flash the camera a sly smile, snickering as calloused hands brush through his disheveled hair. he squeezes his softening member one more time for the audience while catching his breath, before reaching for his phone and stopping the recording.
the violet eyed man immediately sends you the video, paired with a nonchalant, "hey baby miss u :p" text.
❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: i listen to a lot of audio porn…18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.
eijirō kirishima swears like a sailor. he starts out sweet, but it gets to a point—usually when he’s watching his cock bury inside you, any hole will do—where he gets a little selfish, greedy, chasing his own high, even (especially) if it’s through you. and by the time he’s fingered you through a third orgasm, his eyes wrecked and lips bitten pink, he’s rambling about how much of a filthy fucking whore you are, leaking all over the bed for him like this.
hanta sero is the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. he’s never silent, but he doesn’t let himself go until you’re begging use me, daddy, rounding your cute little eyes and hurting you’re bottom lip in a pout like he’s not doing enough. he always, genuinely, tries to resist, but his willpower quickly corrodes the moment you wrap his hands around your throat, and suddenly, all fears of hurting you dissipate. he just wants to cum, dammit.
denki kaminari is a performer. he likes being watched—likes the look on your face when he licks his cum off your stomach, the look when he bottoms out and shows you how good you feel. but, he can short-circuit just as easily, turning into a whiny, pathetic mess when you fuck him to a second orgasm.
izuku midoriya is a babbler. it’s not long before he’s stammering about how pretty you are, how lucky he is, how good you feel. but don’t mistake that babbling for submission, because, yes, he may be drooling on your shoulder—but he’s also got your face shoved into the pillow with one hand, using the other to prop your hips to find that spot that makes you scream.
hitoshi shinsō is typically pretty quiet, until he gets drunk. (or high, though its usually some combination both.) then, he can’t help but buck his hips to make you gag on his cock, because as hard as he tries, he’s not a nice guy. but you’re always so sweet to him, and he tries so hard to return the favor, feeling perpetually guilty for every single immoral thought—but once he’s drunk, all he wants is to see you cry.
katsuki bakugō sounds just like his music taste—hot and loud. he won’t talk about it, and if you tell anyone, you’re dead, but even when he’s alone, he has to keep a hand over his mouth to keep the unwanted noises at bay. the issue is you feel good, too good, and every time he finds himself scrambling to bite at anything to shut himself up—a hand, the pillow, your shoulder, something.
you and shinsou reconnect before your wedding. things do not go as planned.
cws: fem!reader, cheating, angst, some religious guilt, use of mind-control quirk in bed, degradation/humiliation, dubcon, use of she/her, reader referred to as woman, frequent pov changes sorry if that ain't your thing but i like to highlight how pathetically in love each party is
"would you ever try it with me?"
shinsou nearly drops his beer, his pants tightening to the point of pain.
"that's not the kind of thing you ask your best friend," he replies, even though his brain is already whirring through the fantasy like a movie reel. how long has he thought about you at his mercy? of you trusting him enough to make you cum so many times you begged him to stop?
you arch an eyebrow. "why not?"
"because i don't do that kind of thing in bed." he's surprised you don't faint right then and there, you look so stricken. but honestly, what were you thinking? springing this on him the first time he's seen you in months? "that's why you're asking, right? don't look so shocked—monoma already blabbed. i know you're getting married."
he leans in close, leering. he has no idea why he's so furious. (he does.) "you probably want to know what it's like with a freak before you settle down with mr. vanilla, huh?"
he should have expected the crack of your palm across his cheek. hurts like hell all the same.
your hands shake around your purse. "don't know why i bothered with this. you're right, okay? it sounds disgusting when you say it like that—but i've got elderly parents to take care of. my job barely keeps me alive. i know it's medieval, i know it's shit, but he's a good man who will support me. you can't keep people alive on dreams." you clatter out of the booth on shaky legs. "and monoma blabbed to me, too, you know. he told me why you're not satisfied with those women you bring home."
this time it's your turn to threaten his space. he drinks in your scent like water, his heart beating hard in his throat.
"because they're not me."
.
coward.
coward coward coward.
that's what you are, at the end of the day. you talk big, but you ran out of that pub as fast as you could, tears streaming down your face like a middle schooler.
it was crass, both what you said and how you said it. he had every right to turn you down.
you've thought about telling him you loved him perhaps a thousand times. from the first minute you saw him in your first year of college, sleepy eyes, messy hair, hoodie obscuring what you'd later discover to be hardened muscle and sinew.
the timing was never right, though, and before you knew it, settling down no longer felt like an option. it became a strategic play at survival in a flagging economy.
but it's shinsou that you think of when you touch yourself. it's shinsou who makes you slippery and warm, who makes your whole body feel like it could float into air at a simple touch.
not your fiancé.
you slow down to catch your breath, plopping down on a park bench. you've become the woman your mother always warned about, too distracted by what-ifs.
you nearly jump out of your skin when your phone rings.
"meet me at my place before i change my mind."
.
the deal was one night.
he's lost track of how many nights it's been since the first.
"it's okay, baby." he peppers small kisses to the inside of your thighs, breathing in your scent. "i'm right here." his tongue grazes over your clit and you jerk in his hold, hips bucking into his face.
"no more, 'toshi—"
"color?" he always commands it out of you, just in case.
"yellow," you admit dreamily, hands winding in his hair.
"good job, sweetheart." he pulls away, winding his way up your body and placing kisses to your tummy, your breasts. he licks a nipple between his teeth, listening to your breathing even out. "god job telling me what you need."
he still hasn't fucked you on his cock. he's used his fingers, his mouth, dildos. he's lost track of how many hours have passed by in bliss, how many times he's watched your sweet little mouth part in ecstasy.
your thighs are warm and soft in his hands. he tucks your legs around his waist, runs his clothed cock along the valley of your sopping wet cunt. your breath stutters; the animal in him howls in triumph.
"want it that badly, do you?" shallow strokes of his cock along your pussy—he feels her beating against his shaft, eager and ready. "like a good little whore. just waiting to be filled."
"toshi—" even now, you admonish him. he can't help but smile. "don't, don't say that—"
"why?" he scoops you into his lap. "because of how much you like it?"
you flush, burying your face into his neck.
you'll need more to cum again. he's already pulled three from you, and this next one -
"make me cum now, toshi. the way we both want you to."
.
to be loved is to be known. you've always thought that, and here hitoshi is, proving you right.
you know other people would find the two of you immoral. sinners, even, if your mind ran to damnation.
but when hitoshi touches you, the only thing you think of is how this is the happiest you've ever been.
"please, toshi." his thighs tense under yours, the only indication of his unease. "you know how much i trust you."
he chuckles, tipping your chin up and capturing your mouth with his. "i know, doll. that's part of the problem. i'm not sure i could walk away from you if we do this."
he smiles, a little sadly, eyes trained on yours. "but i'm hopeless when it comes to you. you sure about this?"
your heart thunders in your ears.
"never been more sure."
.
"good." his hand slides up the back of your neck, grip tight on either side. "tell me whose cock you need."
your gaze goes out of focus; your mouth goes slack.
he's never been harder in his life.
"yours," you say without hesitation, winding your arms tighter around his neck. your lips ghost over his pulse point. he draws you closer, adoration spiking his blood. god, how he'll ruin you. "yours, toshi."
"that's my girl," he coos.
he loses track of the commands, how many times he suspends both of your orgasms to the point of pain. he praises you the entire time, hoping it penetrates through the fog of his quirk.
"you sound so pretty, baby. letting out all those pretty noises just for me." he lets go of the quirk for a moment. holds his forehead to yours. the dip of your waist fits so perfectly in the palm of his hand that it nearly stops his breath. "ready, sweetheart?"
he teases you, weeping tip sliding into your warm heat by one inch. he has to physically restrain you from sliding down.
"why'd you stop?"
"you know why." he lets you sink down another inch or so. it's the most pleasurable agony he's ever experienced. "wanted you here when i made you mine."
"oh." your smile lights up your entire face. "that's a really good reason."
he takes hold of your mind again, gently, before bottoming out inside of you.
kita shinsuke is a dreamboat. kita shinsuke also wants to fuck miya osamu's wife–you, his greatest, most obscene what if.
it doesn't help that you still call him senpai even though more than a decade has passed, or that you touch him so casually, slipping a finger under the sleeve of his shirt to inspect how much he has tanned. your perfume still lingers on him after your hugs, and on the days you're not wearing a bra kita doesn't even make it back home before he unzips himself and fists his cock violently to the thought of you in his parked truck.
occasionally kita invites osamu and you to his farm for the weekend; tells you it's good for you get out from time to time, especially when money is tight. you always have a room with him, you're like family, merely paperthin walls separating you. it's cute how you try and muffle your moans (are you biting down on a pillow or does osamu have his hand clasped over your mouth while he pounds into you?), even though kita wishes you wouldn't. when he closes his eyes he can imagine you in his lap, calling him senpai while he buries every inch of his cock in you. he has seen osamu, he knows how much you can take.
kita loves when your needy whines and moans next door slowly die down and he can hear your feet pat across the hallway towards the bathroom. he imagines you full and dripping with cum, aching, leaking (it should have been him). if he gets lucky he'll find your worn panties on the bathroom floor in the mornings.
he doesn't want to be the third to osamu and you; he wants the fantasy of what he can't have, the blurred lines, the dirty secrets. kita shinsuke wants to fuck you so badly, it makes him come undone in his pants. he wouldn't want it any other way.
thank you to my kofi member for your support! please enjoy 1.5k of kenma dry humping content :))))
tags: best friends to lovers, roomates to lovers, mutual pining, wet dreams, explicit consent, dry humping and very much NOT dry humping
[commission honee here!]
[become a member here!]
When Kenma pokes his head into your room, it's almost three o'clock in the morning. He's just finished his Friday night stream, but the quiet he'd expected when slipping his headphones off is not there. Instead, there's a whimpering noise he can hear through the wall, muffled enough that his mic hadn't caught it but loud enough that he's immediately concerned.
He'd knocked twice, quietly murmuring your name, but you'd only let out more whimpers, almost pained. You must be having a nightmare, he reasons, letting himself into your room and trying not to feel guilty.
The blankets have been kicked to the floor, your pajamas riding up in places that he won't let himself notice, because he's worked very hard over the last three years to ignore any hint of anything that isn't roommate-friendly. Not for your sake, because you're not shy at all about boundaries or personal space or anything. Why would you be? You're his best friend.
No… It's entirely for his sake. For his sanity. If he lets himself want to see you in this way — be near you in this way — he won't ever recover.
So he pretends he doesn't see you like this and moves to your side, one hand on your shoulder. You're sweating, your skin sticky and your breath coming out in uneven pants. Your eyebrows are screwed up tight, like you're hurting.
"Hey," he whispers, mumbling your name. He shakes you when you don't stir. "Y/n. C'mon. You gotta get up."
Your body jerks with sudden consciousness, and your eyes fly open. When your gaze finds his, Kenma's spine tightens.
Your pupils are dilated, and your eyes are glazed over with something heated.
"Koz?"
A shiver runs down the length of his body, starting from the crown of his head.
He brushes it off. "Yeah. You were having a nightmare." When you just blink up at him, hazy and lost, he presses his palm against your forehead. "You good?"
Your breath hitches, and you lift your hands to your face, groaning. "Yeah. All good."
He gets the sense that you're lying. "Was it bad?"
"Mhm," you breathe. "Bad."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Nope," you laugh, shaking your head and reaching for the blankets with trembling fingers. "Definitely not."
Kenma shakes his head, resolved to never hearing about this mystery nightmare. And then, as you're tugging the blankets over your legs, he watches your thighs clench together tight.
His mouth is suddenly quite dry. "Oh."
You pause, glancing at his face. When you see what he's looking at, you yank the blankets up to your chin. "Koz-"
"Sorry," Kenma laughs, a little delirious. He looks around, standing from your bed with an urgency that he's never felt before. "My bad. I'll go."
"Wait-" Your fingers snag on his wrist. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dream about you-"
"About-" Kenma blinks down at you, his eyes wide. "About who? About-What?"
You stare, your hand covering your mouth. "Oh, god."
He echoes you. "Oh, god." When you sink under your blankets, murmuring 'please go away', he's quick to listen. "Yep. Got it."
"Wait!" you call out, just as he's rushing through the doorway. He stops, staring out into the hallway while you stay silent. "Come back…" Kenma doesn't move, trying to decide if this is real or if you're about to stab him for even knowing about this dream, which was entirely out of your control and which he's totally okay pretending never happened.
But then your voice changes. Thickens with nerves, with something stronger. "Koz… Come back?"
He's at the foot of your bed before he can think of any logical reason not to be, staring down at the blankets and doing his very best not to look into that heated gaze he knows you've got.
Your breath is stuttered, nervous. "Can I ask for something?"
He'd give you anything, even the thing he knows is coming. "Yeah. Yes."
"Will you-" Your voice going quiet, whispered and uncertain. "Will you help me?"
Kenma's eyes flit about the dark of your room. He's coming concerningly close to the end of his rope of self-control. "With?"
"Kenma-"
He shudders visibly, even in the moonlight. You only call him by his name when you're about to say something real. Something heavy.
"Please help me." When he doesn't answer, just shifting his weight and curling his fists into his pockets, you visibly shrink in your bed. "Or-Unless you don't-"
"I want to," he blurts, carding his fingers through his hair and tugging hard. "I definitely want to. I just-" He doesn't finish his sentence, just sitting next to you, within arms' reach. When you tug on his hoodie, he lets you drag him down over you, his sigh heated against your skin. "Are you sure?" he asks. "You just had a dream. It's okay if it's just that. You can't control them."
Your hand trails up his chest and curls around the hair at the base of his neck, playing with it softly. He shivers, a hand brushing across your waist and planting into the mattress at your side, caging you in.
"I don't have dreams about any of my other friends, Koz," you whisper. "But I've lost track of how many have been about you."
His eyes find yours, close and wide and shocked. "Wha-"
"Please, Kenma. I want this."
There's only a moment of silence, and then Kenma is dropping his lips to yours.
Your breath hitches against his mouth, your lips parting, and he's desperate enough to just push his tongue past them right away, all pretense and hesitation leaving his body in a moment of pure weakness. His fingers slide against your waist, dipping under the hem of your shirt and pressing firmly against the warmth of your tummy.
He shuffles nervously over you, following the lead you set. Following the arch of your back with a press of his fingertips against your spine. Following the moan of his name with the moan of yours. Following the spread of your thighs with the slot of his hips between them.
When he rolls his hips, you bury your fingers in his hair and whine, the sound high-pitched and needy. He can feel your heartbeat between your thighs, pulsing against him rapidly and picking up every time he does something new.
His fingers hook under one knee, tugging you around his waist as he starts to roll against you with an unsteady rhythm. His breath is getting heavy, but so is yours. Every push of himself against you is accompanied by the harsh shove his breath past his lips, dizzying and hot and slick with saliva. He feels you start to tug on his hair, little grunts of need getting caught in his throat.
"More," you whisper, your hips clumsy and rough whenever you reciprocate his eager desperation. "More, Koz, please." He presses down harder, his rolls lasting longer and pushing particulary close at the peak. He can feel his pants slipping down his waist, and he knows they're going to be gone soon. Especially with the way your pretty hips keep shimmying up against him, like you're trying to stamp the imprint of his cock against your soaked panties.
"More-Kenma-"
Kenma groans into your mouth, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth. "You sure?"
"Please," you whine, shifting back and forth. "Take them off-"
He doesn't need to hear anything else, his sweats and underwear shoved down to his thighs in an instant. The slot of his cock against your panties is torture, soaking wet torture. The noises coming from between your thighs is obscene. He chases it, curious about what it would sound like without the fabric. If it's just skin on skin, wet and warm and desperate-
"More-"
"Oh, god," he moans, slipping two trembling fingers under the gusset of your panties. "Please tell me you're sure-"
"'m sure, Koz, please, god-"
The fabric tears slightly when he yanks it aside, but neither of you hear it over the moans that echo around you when Kenma slides his cock between your folds.
It's as messy as he'd hoped, loud and lewd and sticky and everything he's ever dreamed of. He hopes it's what you've dreamed of, too.
"Is this what you wanted?" he grunts, hips slapping against your skin as he ruts desperately against you. "Is this what you were dreaming about tonight?"
Your breath stutters, chest rising and falling unevenly. "N-No-"
Kenma's heart nearly stops. But it picks up again when you reach between your legs and find his cock, your fingers making his thighs shake.
"No," you repeat, panting. And then you line up the tip of him against your entrance, leaving it there for him to take the final step when he's ready. "More, Kenma. Please."
Hii! This is my first time sending an ask to you, I've recently discovered your yandere hsr works and I'm loving them! I saw that you also do yandere genshin asks so I thought of sending something for yan Lohen (he got me in a choke hold). I was thinking of a willing but shy reader who has been gifted a collar of ownership from Lohen! It can be fluffy or smutty, whatever you'd prefer :3
tw/cw: typical yandere behavior; unhealthy relationship dynamics - being manhandled and choked out; brief NFSW mentions; reader is gn
a/n: my genshin debut! also i know you asked for a willing reader, but i don’t typically write for “willing” darlings, especially for more sadistic yanderes, so i changed it a bit! being collared by lohen though 🤤 i had to immediately write this once i first saw it come in!
“I’m not wearing that.” You immediately shove it back at him, throwing it against his chest. It happened too suddenly that Lohen was taken aback, but he quickly composed himself and went back to cracking that stupid smile of his, sharp canines glinting.
“Awe, puppy’s all embarrassed—”
“I’m not your fucking dog, Lohen!” You cut him off because you knew whatever he was going to say next would be twice as humiliating as the notion of you actually wearing a collar with the words Property of Lohen.
It was an unassuming black leather collar with silver detailing at the buckle, meant to go with any of your outfits, as Lohen explains the deliberate choice to fashion it that way. Apparently, he paid a pretty penny to have it custom-made. Even more so because he also had your birthstone embedded in it.
You feel yourself growing hot in the face that Lohen would even have the audacity to ask someone to make it for him, knowing the context of such a collar, and the fact that it’s Lohen of all people, the sadistic nutcase of Mondstadt. Whoever it was that was commissioned was forced to endure making Lohen’s sick fantasy come to reality just to put food on the table—this man’s shame knows no bounds, truly. You’re left aghast.
“But you are,” Lohen continues to argue with you, “You’re just all bark no bite, sweetie pie.”
He speaks in that grating voice, higher pitched than usual because he gets off at bringing you to ruin with him, dancing in humiliation because he loves it more to see you squirm and genuinely lose your cool. Sick fuck, you think. What a depraved, sick fuck.
“Leave me alone,” you swat your hand at his face, pushing him away from you the moment he starts to inch slightly closer.
“C’mere,” he goes to grab your hand with a tight grip, pulls you towards his chest, and wraps his arms around you. So suffocating.
“Let go of me—Lohen—control yourself!”
“Can’t, not when I’m with you—“ Lohen presses a quick kiss to your face as he continues to rough you around; squeezing your shoulders into yourself with his own arms, so you wouldn’t be able to extend your arms out to try and push him back. You’ve begun thrashing around in hopes of flinging him off you, his chest glued to your back as he continued to tighten himself around you like barbed wire. But Lohen’s stronger, has both feet planted firmly on the ground as he merely pushes his entire body into you, more and more, until you seriously feel like he’s crushing you.
“Go on, keep pushing, see what happens,” he’s giggling in your ears. It makes you want to push harder, but it’s no use. You’ve given out, knees grown worn, you fall to the ground as he lies flat on top of you, still unwilling to let go of you.
“Lo—Lohen, enough. Get off of me,” you beg. You try your best to sound as sincere as possible.
“Nah, nah. I won't. Why would I? I get to hold you like this?”
“Lohen—”
Before you could even blink, he brought up the collar again; you heard the metal crinkle as he unfastened the lock. Then he swiftly secured it around your neck; you felt it graze the back of your neck, coldness kissing your spine, making you shiver. Lohen felt it, made him dig himself a little more into your behind in the action.
“You know, the more you deny me, the more turned on I get,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.
And just as he was about to shut the collar on you, you were quick to start shaking him off again. Using your arms to try and elbow him in the sides, but he merely places both his knees to each side, straddling you, and one hand pressed against the flat of your back, pushing you face down onto the ground.
“Ah, ah, not yet. I didn’t get to lock it yet—”
“Fuck off!”
You use every last bit of energy you could muster and manage to wiggle out of his grasp, kicking him with your legs in the process. He stumbles off of you, falls on his back, as you pick up your bearings and go to stand up. But Lohen immediately locks in on you, gets up faster than you could comprehend, and wraps a hand around your ankle, drags you back down on the ground with him. You hit the floor with a loud thud; you wince in the pain blossoming through your body.
Lohen quickly goes back to straddle you, picks himself up, and plops himself on top of you, as you were far more distracted that you had fallen so hard, that you were so sure you had a bruise somewhere on your back.
“Did it hurt?” Lohen asks, his eyes peering at you with such a wide, intense look; you see your face reflected in them. You don’t even know what to say to him, other than the fact that you already know; he’s probably ready to continue making it hurt even more if provoked enough.
You keep your mouth shut, words stolen out of your lips as your breathing grows rapidly. But it makes Lohen boil over as he’s met with your silence; then he finds himself snapping his hand towards your face, fingers tightly coiling around your jaw, pushing your face closer to his, “Use your words, darling. Tell me if it hurts.”
“Ye—yes,” you struggle to properly speak as his fingers positioned themselves in a tight hold on the hinges of your jaw. It was uncomfortable to talk, but no doubt, Lohen would prefer you this way.
“Lohen, it—it h-hurts.”
He doesn’t speak, but he lets go of your face, leaving you frozen in shock. And as you lay limply beneath him, he fishes out a key from his pocket and goes to lock your collar shut. It feels like something heavy just fell on top of you, something overconsuming.
“I told the guy to add a lock. What’s the point of a collar if it’ll just fall off? I want to make sure it sticks.”
As the lock clicks shut, he smirks, pats your head, and compliments you on how cute you look. Then he flings the tiny key into the distance, somewhere, lost to the wider world, and you feel your heart leap out of your chest.
“Why’d you throw it away?! I won’t be able to get this off!” You reach for your collar, fingers attempting to pry it off. Your fingers knock against the metal lock, but it stays glued to you, not budging.
“Because I don’t want you taking it off, duh. That wasn’t in my plans.”
“Well, having this around me forever isn’t in mine either!”
“Sorry, I don’t really care what you say in this matter.” He waves you off, shaking his head in retort. You keep trying to haul the collar off you, growing increasingly angry as it becomes permanent. The words, Property of Lohen, searing into your brain like scalding, hot flames, slowly turning you to ash.
“Lohen, please, you can’t do this—”
He ignores your pleas, waving it off as if trivial. Lohen picks himself off you, but he drags you up by the collar, so your breathing tightens, and you feel pressure in your eyes as you feel yourself lift off the ground slightly, head jutted out above your shoulders at an unnatural angle.
Your hands grasp at his wrists to try and make it stop, but it doesn’t really stop until he makes you fall in his arms. You’re coughing up a storm, while he gently pats your back.
“Wow, that was seriously cute how your face went from angry and serious to being all scared. As I said, all bark, no bite.” Lohen caresses your face. “Did you think I was trying to choke you there? Huh? Honey, I would never—at least, not fully, hehehe.”
You continue to cough, your hand attaching itself around your throat as your eyes accumulate tears.
“Get up, let’s go take a walk outside. I want everyone to see this new collar on you.”
You don’t get to say no because you never had a choice to begin with.
lohen seeing reader. stare at his collarbone in his adventurer outfit. lohen smirks knowingly. grabs reader by the back of their head, gripping their hair roughly and pulling them towards his chest. “if you wanna lick it, i’ll let you.” SEND TWEET.
REPOST REPOST REPOST IMMEDIATELY REPOSTING hi anon i love you for this. oouggh... lohen adventurer's outfit... drool..........
knocking on the door to lohen's office, you waited a moment before it opened, and you were met with a sight you wish to forever ingrain into your mind. fuck, you never knew lohen would have this kind of outfit, nor did you ever think he'd even wear something like this.
the collar of his white top was unbuttoned enough to expose some of his chest, and he had on a black vest which accentuated his oh so delicious waist which you wanted to grab right there and then without a care in the world. your eyes trailed back up to his neck, and his sexy ass collarbone you wanted to leave marks on was practically displayed for the entirety of teyvat to see, egging you on and—
"shamelessly ogling now, aren't you?" he asked knowingly, feeling your eyes staring straight at his practically bare chest. you quickly looked away with an awkward smile while you coughed into your hand. "c-captain! you requested—" interrupted mid speech, you were suddenly dragged into his office by the wrist as you heard his door slam and click shut behind you. oh fuck. "hey, wait—" you let out a whine as he grabbed you by the hair to shove your face towards his chest.
"go on, you slut. i know you wanna lick it, suck it, or whatever. i'm even being kind enough to give you the opportunity," he said with a mocking grin, tightening his grip on your hair. "mmh- lohen-" fuck, he smelled heavenly. it was enough to almost make you salivate—he had to have done this on purpose right? it's not like there was really anything special going on today, but of course he did this to rile you up.
glancing up at him through your lashes, you reluctantly stuck your tongue out, giving small kitten licks to the exposed skin on his chest. "oh come on, i know you can do better than that."
"shut the hell up," you huffed, rolling your eyes as you reached a hand out, dragging it up his waist and snaking it into his shirt to squeeze his chest, eliciting a groan from him which drove you absolutely insane. "haah- fuck, that's it, bunny—keep- nngh- going," oh, he was really doing this on purpose now.
you bit down hard, nearly drawing blood as he whimpered, breathing shakily and rutting his hardened cock against you. you tugged lightly at his nipple, moving your mouth up to leave quite a few hickeys along his neck and collarbone.
you winced as lohen yanked your head back, staring up at the complete mess you left him in. he was breathing heavily, face flushed with a furrowed brow, and a small line of drool coming from his mouth. fuck, he looked so hot.
"hey, don't think you're even close to done yet. on your knees, now."
holy shit im going insane ouu shii im uaughuhug 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤
Boyfriend! Kenma who genuinely set aside a whole week just to spend time with you before you left for America.
Boyfriend! Kenma who nearly got on his knees and begged you to stay when you finally got to the airport. The only reason he didn't was because he knew how much you wanted to go to college there, and because a million eyes watching him embaress himself in public would haunt him in every nightmare for the rest of eternity.
Boyfriend! Kenma who made you pinky promise to call him everyday before you left.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma who had somehow underestimated how much he would miss you, who didn't know what to do without you.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma who actually did get on his knees and beg, at somepoint during the first month of being apart, for you to turn your camera on during facetimes--despite your protests of looking bad.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma whose attendance to his own college went down without him looking forward to seeing you there, he would much rather stay on call with you as you slept though, paying attention to each little breath.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma whose diet had devolved back into some sad form of instant noodles and takeout.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma who had stolen a hoodie of yours before you left, taking it everywhere for "emotional support".
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma who had kept a bottle of your perfume or deoderant too, spraying it on his wrists and pillow whenever he missed you a little more than usual.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma who avidly looked through airline sites to see which flight would be cheapest and if there were ever and discounts, who was already saving up.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma who genuinely stalked your socials and was the first to like any post you made. Always making sure to respond with something sweet.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma who was indefinitely jealous of your guy friends, simply because they got to be near you and he couldn't.
Long distance boyfriend! Kenma who had already started looking into ring designs.
Boyfriend! Kenma who tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to you when your voice rang through his apartment with a simple 'I'm home".
matsukawa likes an audience, you like being listened to, and iwaizumi really should have hung up. (or— matsukawa answers the phone mid-shift at the pussy eating factory. iwaizumi stays on the line.)
MATSUKAWA ISSEI X FEM!READER ft. IWAIZUMI HAJIME | timeskip, friends with benefits (mattsun and reader use each purely for their bodies), smut, exhibitionism/voyeurism, phone sex, dubious consent in the beginning, third party listening, oral sex f receiving, fingering, vaginal sex, dirty talk, size kink, multiple orgasms, creampie, implied masturbation
word count: 3.7k
hi from marcel: my demons. MY DEMONS. @swordsteel picked iwa so he is here...... title from an mcr lyric (can you guess which ill give you a kiss)
it starts stupidly, like most good things do.
because everything with matsukawa issei starts stupidly.
he is between your thighs, hair mussed from your hands, mouth warm and lazy against you like he’s got nowhere else to be for the rest of his life. which is a lie. he had somewhere to be. he had told the boys he might meet up later, maybe, if he “felt like being social.”
you had known exactly what that meant.
so did he.
so did makki, probably, given the string of texts sitting unread on his lock screen.
you’re already half-melted into the mattress, one knee hooked over his shoulder, fingers twisted in the sheets because issei is being unfair about it. not rushed. not even particularly mean yet. just focused in that loose, maddening way he has, like he’s barely trying and still knows exactly how to make your spine turn to warm water.
his phone starts buzzing on the bed.
you glance over.
iwaizumi.
your stomach flips before issei even lifts his head.
he feels it.
of course he feels it.
his eyes flick up to yours from between your thighs, dark and amused.
“no,” you whisper, already smiling because you are a liar and a freak.
his mouth curves.
the phone keeps buzzing.
issei wipes his thumb slowly over the inside of your thigh, watching your face like he’s waiting for the part where you tell him not to.
you don’t.
so he reaches for his phone.
“issei,” you hiss, but there’s no heat in it. no real warning.
he answers with his mouth still shiny.
“yo.”
you slap both hands over your face.
because unlike makki, iwaizumi doesn’t immediately start laughing.
there’s just... a pause.
then hajime’s voice, low and normal and totally unaware of the crime scene he has stepped into. “you busy?”
issei looks directly at you.
you shake your head at him in horror and delight.
he licks his lips.
“little bit.”
“then why’d you answer?”
“’cause you called. i’m polite, iwa.”
“you sound weird.”
issei hums, and his thumb slides back over you, slow enough to make your legs tense.
you bite down on your knuckle.
“do i?”
another pause.
oh, hajime knows now.
you can hear the exact second he knows. the silence changes shape. gets heavier. more aware.
“... matsukawa.”
“yeah?”
“are you fucking around right now?”
issei’s smile is lazy and lethal.
“technically, my mouth’s occupied.”
you make the worst sound into your hand.
hajime goes dead silent.
not scandalised loud like oikawa. not delighted loud like makki.
silent.
issei’s brows lift like he’s fascinated.
then, with the calm of a man setting down a drink, he taps speaker and lays the phone flat on your stomach.
the cool edge of it makes you twitch.
you choke on a laugh, which turns into a gasp when he slides two fingers back into you, slow and deliberate.
“oh my god,” you breathe.
the phone is right there. resting on your stomach, speaker up, close enough that every little broken sound you make has nowhere to hide.
issei looks too pleased with himself.
“iwa,” he says casually, as if he is not knuckle-deep and watching your hips start to lift. “you still there?”
no answer.
issei’s fingers curl.
your back arches.
“hajime,” issei sings, awful and soft. “don’t be rude.”
“i’m here,” iwaizumi says, voice tight.
there it is.
not hanging up. not telling him to stop. not even pretending hard enough to hate this.
issei’s grin goes slow.
“yeah?” he murmurs. “you wanna be?”
the silence after that is fucking insane.
you stare at issei, wide-eyed, breath catching in little pieces as he keeps touching you. he’s not even going down on you anymore. he’s just watching. sitting between your legs with his cheek against your thigh, fingers moving steadily, gaze flicking between your face and the phone on your stomach like this is some kind of casual group activity.
“i asked you something,” issei says.
hajime exhales through his nose.
“... if she’s okay with it.”
your whole body tenses.
issei’s fingers pause.
not stop, exactly. just slow.
his eyes come to yours, humour gone thin for half a second. the real question underneath it.
you nod.
he waits.
“yeah,” you whisper. “i’m okay with it.”
issei’s smile comes back, softer first.
then worse.
“you hear that?”
“i heard,” hajime says.
his voice sounds different now. lower. rougher around the edges.
god help you.
issei kisses the inside of your knee. “good. then stay quiet if you’re gonna be shy about it.”
“fuck off,” hajime says, but it has no bite.
“mm. that isn’t very nice, hajime.”
you laugh, breathless, and issei rewards it by dragging his fingers just right.
your laugh snaps into a moan.
hajime makes a sound.
tiny. barely there.
but it is a sound.
issei hears it.
of course he does.
“oh?” he says.
“don’t.”
“didn’t say anything.”
“you were about to.”
“i was just thinking.”
“do that privately.”
issei’s fingers slow, and you whine before you can stop yourself.
he looks down at you with mock pity.
“see what you did? distracted me.”
“issei,” you complain.
“yeah, baby?”
he says it so casually. so warm. like he isn’t turning you into a trembling mess with his best friend listening.
“don’t stop.”
iwaizumi’s breath catches audibly.
issei’s eyes darken.
“bossy.”
“you’re being annoying.”
“i’m being generous.” his gaze flicks to the phone. “aren’t i, iwa?”
hajime says nothing.
issei laughs quietly.
“still there?”
“yeah.”
“quiet.”
“yeah.”
“you jerking off, boy scout?”
the silence is immediate and catastrophic.
your eyes go huge.
“issei.”
“what?” he asks, innocent as a knife. “it’s a question.”
hajime’s voice comes back strangled. “you’re a fucking asshole.”
“that wasn’t a no.”
“jesus christ.”
“that wasn’t either.”
you are going to die.
you are actually going to die in this bed because matsukawa issei cannot behave for five consecutive minutes and iwaizumi hajime apparently has a closet pervert streak big enough to qualify as a second apartment.
issei leans down and kisses you, right above where his fingers are still moving.
soft. terrible.
then he speaks, not to you this time.
“she’s so wet,” he says, conversationally. “you should feel this.”
your face burns so hot you think you might pass out.
hajime swears under his breath.
issei watches your reaction like he loves it.
“she likes when i talk about her,” he continues, still lazy, still cruelly calm. “acts embarrassed, but she gets tighter every time.”
you shake your head.
his fingers curl again.
your hips jerk.
“liar,” he murmurs to you.
“i hate you.”
“no, you don’t.”
“i might.”
“you’d miss me.”
“i’d miss your dick.”
“same thing.”
hajime makes another sound then, partly a laugh, half a curse. like he can’t believe he is hearing this. like he cannot believe he is not hanging up.
issei’s smile sharpens.
“there you go,” he says. “knew you were alive.”
“shut up.”
“nah. iwa, she’s trying so hard not to make noise.”
“don’t drag me into it.”
“you’re on speaker on her stomach. you dragged yourself in.”
“that was you.”
“you could hang up.”
nothing.
issei hums.
“thought so.”
then he lowers his mouth back to you.
and if the fingering was bad, this is worse.
because now he is showing off.
not in a clumsy way. not obvious and exaggerated. issei is too smooth for that, too confident in the exact way that makes him irritating. he just settles back between your thighs and eats you out like he knows hajime is listening to every wet sound, every shaky breath, every broken little syllable of his name you fail to swallow.
your hand flies into his hair.
the phone shifts on your stomach as you arch.
“careful,” issei murmurs against you, and the vibration makes your legs tremble. “don’t drop him.”
“i’m going to kill you,” you gasp.
“after?”
“maybe.”
he laughs into you.
hajime says nothing.
but he is breathing.
that’s the thing that gets you. the quiet on the other end isn’t empty anymore. it’s full of him. tense and controlled and too present. you can imagine him sitting somewhere with his jaw clenched, phone in one hand, the other maybe—
you whimper.
issei’s eyes flick up.
“oh, what was that?”
“shut up.”
“you thinking about him?”
you try to close your thighs, which is a mistake because his shoulders are there and he just spreads you open again.
“don’t hide now.”
“issei.”
“answer.”
your pulse is in your throat. “maybe.”
hajime curses.
issei grins against you.
“cute.”
then he stops talking and gets serious.
which is how you know you’re fucked.
he knows exactly how to pull you apart when he wants to. knows when to tease and when to shut up, when to give you pressure, when to back off just enough that your body chases him. his hands lock around your thighs, his mouth gets precise, and everything narrows down to heat and breath and the weight of the phone rising and falling with your stomach.
you come with hajime listening.
it’s not graceful.
it never is with issei when he’s showing off.
your back arches, one hand in his hair, the other clutching at the sheets, and the sound that leaves you is loud enough that you hear hajime inhale sharply through the speaker. issei doesn’t let up until you’re squirming, thighs trembling against his cheeks, voice breaking around a too-much little sob.
then he lifts his head.
slowly.
mouth wet.
eyes dark.
“good?” he asks.
you nod weakly.
“words.”
“i’m good.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
he pats your thigh once.
“great.”
then he grabs your hips and yanks you down the bed.
you squeal.
actually squeal.
because you’re overstimulated and boneless and he moves you like you weigh nothing, dragging you to the edge so suddenly that the phone nearly slides off your stomach. you catch it with one clumsy hand, laughing breathlessly even while your whole body is still shaking.
on speaker, hajime makes the craziest fucking sound.
not a full moan.
not a word.
just this punched-out, involuntary thing that tells on him so badly the room goes still for half a second.
issei freezes.
then looks at the phone.
then at you.
his smile becomes a war crime.
“iwa.”
“don’t.”
“that was cute.”
“don’t.”
“you liked that?”
“fuck you.”
“i’ll pencil you in.”
you laugh again, helpless, and hajime sounds like he might be suffering psychic damage.
issei stands at the end of the bed.
and yeah.
yeah, you forget how to speak for a second.
because he is tall. tall in that loose, lanky way that hides the sheer size of him until he is standing over you with your hips in his hands and his hair falling into his eyes. he drags you to the very edge, lifts your ass like it’s nothing, adjusts you until your legs are hooked just right.
the angle alone makes your stomach flip.
then he lays his cock over your lower stomach.
just rests there.
heavy and hard and obscene against your skin.
you stare down.
he does too.
“issei,” you breathe.
“i know.”
he loves this.
loves seeing it. loves the visual of how deep he’ll reach, how far up your body he can mark the promise of it before he even gets inside. it makes him smug in the worst way, quiet and satisfied and absolutely aware of what it does to you.
his thumb strokes your hip.
“look at that,” he murmurs.
hajime is dead silent.
issei tilts his head toward the phone.
“wish you were looking, iwa?”
“don’t be mean,” you manage.
“shame. i’m so good at it.”
hajime’s voice is rough when he says, “you’re evil.”
“little bit.”
“more than a little.”
“you’re still here.”
another pause.
then hajime says, very low, “yeah.”
oh.
oh, that gets everyone.
even issei’s expression flickers for a second, amusement giving way to something hotter. he looks down at you, brows raised like, you hearing this?
you nod, dazed.
“yeah,” issei says softly. “he is.”
then he slides into you.
you lose your breath.
fully.
it’s so deep at that angle that your hands fly to his wrists, nails digging in as he holds you up to meet him. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. just a stunned little gasp that cracks at the edges when he bottoms out.
issei’s jaw tightens.
“fuck.”
hajime mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch.
issei catches it.
“what was that?”
“nothing.”
“liar.”
“keep going.”
the words are clipped. controlled. almost angry.
they make you clench so hard issei groans.
“oh, she liked that.”
“stop narrating everything,” hajime says.
“no.”
then he starts moving.
slow at first, because the angle is insane and because you are still sensitive from his mouth. deep, measured thrusts that push the air out of you every time, his hands firm under your ass, lifting you to meet him like he’s using your body exactly how he wants and making sure it ruins you properly.
the phone is still on you, slid down now to stick to the sweaty skin just below your tits.
you can feel the vibration of hajime’s breathing through the case.
it is obscene.
it is ridiculous.
it is so hot you almost can’t stand it.
issei talks through everything.
of course he does.
he tells you how good you feel, how tight, how pretty you look trying to take him like this. tells hajime how your face changes when he gets deep enough. how your thighs shake. how you get louder when you forget to be embarrassed.
and hajime just listens.
quiet.
too quiet.
until issei pushes.
“say something, iwa.”
“no.”
“why not?”
“because you’re already insufferable.”
“she wants to hear you.”
your eyes fly to his.
issei grins.
“you do.”
“i—”
he thrusts deep, and your words scatter.
“see?”
hajime’s voice is rough. “she okay?”
the question punches right through all the heat.
because it’s hajime, of course it is. repressed pervert or not, he still sounds like himself. grounded. careful. checking, even with his voice strained.
you swallow, breathless.
“yeah. i’m okay.”
“you sure?”
“yeah.”
issei’s expression softens for the smallest second.
then he ruins it by saying, “hear that? she’s okay. you can keep jerking off now, boy scout.”
“mattsun,” hajime snaps.
you make a sound that is half laugh, half moan.
issei’s grin comes back full force.
“there we go.”
“you’re going to hell.”
“probably. wanna come with?”
“not answering that.”
you are absolutely dissolving.
every thrust punches up into that deep, impossible place that makes your legs go useless. issei’s hands hold you steady, thumbs digging into the soft of your hips. your head tips back against the mattress, one hand fisted in the sheet, the other pressed weakly over the phone like you can somehow hide the sounds and keep hajime close at the same time.
issei notices.
“don’t cover him.”
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
“you’re annoying.”
“you love it.”
“you’re too deep.”
his hips slow immediately.
“too deep bad?”
you shake your head fast.
“no. good. just— fuck!”
“more words.”
“good,” you gasp. “it’s good.”
“yeah?” his voice goes warm and filthy. “you want more?”
you nod.
“say it.”
“more.”
hajime exhales sharply.
issei’s eyes glitter.
“oh, he liked that one.”
“i hate both of you,” you breathe.
“liar.”
then he gives you more.
not faster. deeper. meaner in that careful way that has your body going loose and desperate beneath him. the whole bed shifts with it, rhythm steady, your ass lifted in his hands, his cock hitting so deep that your vision goes blurry.
and then he says it.because he knows exactly when to.
“wanna come for iwa?”
you whine.
“yeah?” he asks, voice low. “wanna come while he jerks off to the sound of you getting fucked like this?”
hajime makes a strangled noise.
“issei.”
“what?”
“you’re— fuck.”
issei laughs, breathless and dark. you nod before you can think better of it.
issei’s gaze snaps back to you.
“please,” you whisper.
his hands tighten.
“please what?”
“make me come.”
“who for?”
you are gone. truly gone. no dignity. no shame. just heat and pressure and hajime’s breathing through the speaker.
“for haji.”
the silence after that is violent.
then hajime groans. low. wrecked. utterly ruined.
issei’s composure almost cracks.
almost.
“fuck,” he mutters. “good girl.”
he shifts one hand, keeping you lifted with the other, and gets his thumb on your clit.
that’s it. that’s the end of you.
the angle, the pressure, the phone, hajime’s barely contained sounds, issei’s voice talking you through it like he has all the time in the world. it all collapses at once.
you come hard enough that your voice breaks. hard enough that your whole body shakes in his hands, hips jerking uselessly as he keeps you exactly where he wants you. issei talks you through the entire thing, filthy and soft, telling you there you go, that’s it, let him hear you, while hajime swears on the other end like he’s trying not to fall apart too loudly.
issei follows not long after.
he holds you tight, thrusts going uneven, head tipping back with a groan that would be embarrassing if he were capable of shame. he comes deep, still standing at the edge of the bed, hands locked around you like he’s anchoring himself through it.
for a few seconds, no one says anything.
you are wrecked.
hajime is silent.
issei is breathing hard, staring down at where he’s still inside you with a lazy, satisfied look that makes you want to kick him if your legs worked.
then hajime says, flat and disbelieving, “are you fucking serious?”
issei doesn’t miss a beat. “nah. her name isn’t serious.”
hajime hangs up. immediately. the room goes dead quiet.
then you burst into exhausted laughter.
issei looks down at the phone, then at you, completely calm.
“rude.”
“you are the worst person alive.”
“he asked.”
“you are insane.”
“yeah.” he finally eases you back onto the bed with surprising gentleness, one hand sliding under your thigh so you don’t jolt too hard. “you good?”
you blink up at him, sweaty and ruined and still trying to recover from the fact that iwaizumi hajime just got dragged into this ecosystem and absolutely did not leave.
“yeah,” you mumble. “i’m good.”
“yeah?”
“mhm.”
“nice.”
he pulls out carefully, and you make a tiny miserable sound because everything is too much now. he kisses your knee like he’s apologising, which is offensive because he is not sorry.
then he grabs his phone.
you squint at him. “what are you doing?”
“checking if he blocked me.”
“did he?”
a pause. “no.”
“coward.”
“right?”
the phone buzzes once in his hand.
issei reads it and smiles.
“what?”
“iwa says he hates me.”
“you deserve it.”
“he also says to never call him again.”
“you answered his call.”
“i’ll remind him later.”
“don’t.”
“i won’t.”
“you absolutely will.”
“probably.”
you groan and cover your face.
issei tosses the phone aside and pats your thigh.
“okay. shower.”
“don’t boss me around after ruining my life.”
“you’re gross.”
your eyes snap open. “it’s your fault.”
“yeah.” he shrugs, shameless. “still gross.”
“i hate you.”
“no, you don’t.”
“i hate your friends.”
“no, you don’t.”
you stare at him and he grins.
“especially not haji.”
you grab a pillow and throw it at him. he catches it against his chest, laughing, then leans down to kiss your forehead like he has any right to be sweet after all of that.
“come on,” he says. “shower before makki finds out and the group chat becomes unlivable ’cause we left him out.”
tamsy slips out of you all the time and lets it happen just enough for you to think it’s accidental. sometimes it really is. his hips messily meeting your ass, his focus slipping the rougher he gets with you. he starts pulling too far back trying to see how far he can get out of you before you start whining. and suddenly, there’s too much distance between the two of you and he slips. the interruption makes you jolt, breath catching in frustration while he curses softly under his breath before pulling you right back against him again.
but other times he does it on purpose. specifically when he notices you’re close. he knows the signs too well now: the way your breathing shortens, how your body starts to lock up around him, how you start to reach for the closest thing to you to ground you before you even say anything. he’s watching, he always is. with your head smashed into his pillow, your smushed lips fix themselves to tell him you’re close but— oopsy!
he slips accidentally, you think, but the emptiness lingers a bit longer than normal. so you start whining, pushing your ass back onto him instinctively. he’s admires you from above as if you’re doing something casual and innocent. all glassy-eyed frustration and desperate little movements, face warm from crying, trying to glance back at him through blurry vision just to figure out what taking him so long to put it back in. you’re so damn needy and he’s giving you heart eyes.
“isn’t that a shame?” he taughts. you glare weakly over your shoulder and he only smiles at it. “hey, don’t give me that look,” he says thumb brushing half hearted circles on your shaking hips. “not my fault. it wouldn’ slip out if you didn’t get so wet . . how pathetic.” you whine into the sheets at his remark. “you’re going to make it up to me,” he whispers, inching closer to your face, nuzzling his tip between your folds. “right?”
(then he waits probably another two to three weeks before he does it on purpose again so you won’t catch on. nom nom nom)
I am curious in your thoughts on how Tamsy would “fall in ‘love’ with someone” or what would really make him obsess over them. I see him as the “ew!! affection? ….. do it again” type who becomes possessive, but that’s just me xD hope you have a wonderful day!
➼ tamsy falls in love with you how a cat would fall in love with its owner. adjacent and very, very reluctantly.
➼ when tamsy realizes he’s in love with you, he immediately puts distance in between you two. he hopes that by making you think he hates you, you and your annoying feelings will buzz off. out of sight, out of mind.
➼ but they don’t go away. so tamsy is left to rebound and consider how to move forward. how can he use your pitiful feelings to his advantage? could he use you to get closer to rudo?
➼ i don’t think tamsy would have a ‘confession’ in the typical sense. i think he’d invade every aspect of your personal life and make himself inseparable until you get the hint.
➼ you confront him about it, and he says, “it took you that long to notice? apologies, i should’ve been more direct.”
➼ after that, there still is a noticeable lack of physical contact. if you like / want sex, tamsy would engage because of the opportunity to see you at your most vulnerable. like a predator watching its prey bare its belly.
➼ tamsy never really reciprocates love, however. in the long run, you’re just another means to an end, disposable and replaceable. sure, he’ll play along, and even if he does really reciprocate internally, it never manifests externally.
theartofmadeline
prguitarman
yousharknotpass
titsay
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
jacobvanloon
