【=◈︿◈=】

madds | 26 | 18+ | multi fandom

[hoekageyama]

{ 18+ minors dni }

this blog regularly contains nsfw and/or dark content. please refer here before continuing.

♱ 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖞... working T^T

♱ 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌... KNOCK YOURSELF OUT XD

𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘

♱ tbsg | smau | temporarily on hold

♱ the big push | reki kyan

♱ guidelines ♱ masterlist ♱ my carrd

♱ tags [nsfw]

♱ tags [sfw]

♱ [sfw] sk8 sideblog: @abitlanga

updated 9.9.24 ☆彡

[owwllly]

gentlmen higuruma and nanami

[sugawarassoulmate]

Kyoutani + Don’t U Wait No More 🍑 please ?

words: 444

cw: fem!reader, virginity loss, backshots, rough sex, minors dni

when kyoutani reluctantly admitted to you that he was a virgin, you’ll admit you were a bit surprised. you were sure your tough, intimidating boyfriend was way more experienced than you.

how could you guess he was a virgin when he was so good at eating you out? most dudes didn’t even know where the clit was and your special boy made sure to give it extra attention every time his tongue was on you. and yet when you wanted to take that next step in your relationship, the tips of kyoutani’s ears turned red and he started stuttering — completely unlike him.

“i’m a fucking virgin, alright?” he growled, actively avoiding your gaze. he fully expected you to laugh at him but you smiled a promised to guide him through it once he was ready.

oh, he was ready. once kyoutani stretched out your velvety walls with his length, he turned into a feral dog eager for release. bucking into you and mouthing at your neck. “taro, slow down!”

“can’t do that, puppy,” the close, intimate missionary position he had you in has shifted. you were face-down on the mattress, hips in the air as kyoutani jackhammered into you, nails clawing at your skin. “feel so good, m’gonna split you in two.”

he wasn’t just trying to ram his cock in you, kyoutani’s fingers reached around to circle your clit. your juices gushing around him, almost pushing against his cock with his wet you were. you could practically burst from the stimulation. “please,” but you weren’t sure why you were begging, you just wanted something.

kyoutani wanted to go slow, that’s what he said. to make love to you, kiss you all over until both of you came together. next time, he can make love to you any other time. right now, his only thought is more, more, more.

you can’t help it, he’s so rough, so animalistic. the coil in your stomach snaps and you’re creaming around him. his name on your lips as you grab at the sheets below. it’s so much, you’re so warm. kyoutani can’t process all these new feelings at once. he’s gonna—

“ah—fuck—puppy, i can’t,” he has enough brain power to pull out before he spills himself all over your lower back. he’s never cum this much. not from fucking his fist or when you first sucked him off. kyoutani didn’t know this much was possible. he’s in awe.

meanwhile you had collapsed onto the bed, feeling spent and satisfied. you mumble for kyoutani to grab the wipes on the side of the bed to clean you off, which we does with shaky hands and whispered apologies.

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro feels guilty leaving this time.

You’re expected to deliver your twins any day next week, and he’s expected to fly across the country for a charity event he really can’t even think straight for. You've assured him you'll be fine, his sister is more than capable of taking care of you while he's gone, but there's a pit in his stomach about the idea of leaving you.

But you send him anyways. With a kiss on his cheek and a promise to call him every day (if he had it his way, it would be every hour, but you wouldn't go for it).

The trip goes smooth enough, and he's grateful for you staying true to your word and calling him every night. It does make the time pass, you're safe, but he's more than eager to make it home to you.

He practically pushes his teammates out the door, he's the first one on the bus, his knee bounces anxiously the entire time- especially when the bus driver makes a wrong turn into straight construction, thrusting them in traffic for far, far too long without any service.

But you won't call him, right? Why would you, you've called him at night every day he's been here, and nothing of note has happened (not that that’s a negative to Rintaro, he’d rather your days be mundane and boring than active in your pregnancy).

His heart finally starts again once they pull into the airport parking lot, all of the teammates trying to not be annoyed at the events of the morning and trying to stay focused on the next steps of boarding the plane in a few hours.

Rintaro sighs, slipping his phone out and immediately calling you, not taking notice of just how many notifications bombarded his phone.

The line ring once, twice, and his shoulders relax as you finally pick up the phone. "Rin?" You ask, and you sound like you're in discomfort. But he merely brushes it off. You are very pregnant, after all, surely discomfort is normal.

"Hey babe, just got service from being in the bus, we've got a nasty delay because the fuck-head made us miss our fucking flight, so I might be home later than expected-"

“Rin, I'm in labor.”

Silence fills the line.

“No you’re not,” he says simply.

“As much as I would love to be kidding, I’m not. I’m 10 centimeters, babe.”

How you’re so calm right now, is beyond him.

Him, on the other hand, leaps up with absolute panic, a screechy “WHAT?” echoing through the airport. It catches more than a few looks from other people, but all Rin can think about is you.

You in the hospital, legs up in stirrups and gown being the only thing adorning your body. There's probably nurses and doctors everywhere, and Kaiya and Akito on the couch at home with his mother, waiting for the news.

"WHEN?"

"My water broke a few hours ago, got to the hospital with your sister and now they're getting ready for me to push. Your timing truly is impeccable."

“And you thought now was the best time to tell me?!”

“I tried to tell you earlier, but you had no service!” You defend.

Fuck, he could scalp the bus driver for getting fucking lost.

"okay, okay, okay lets calm down-"

You snort, "yeah I'll get right on that."

"Please, for everything unholy, don't joke right now," he pleads, and he hears you offer him a laughy 'sorry' on your end of the line. "Are you okay? Do you feel okay?"

"Well I don't feel particularly good, for all intents and purposes." You direct your attention to something else and he hears bustling in the background, "Rin I have to start pushing. Stay on the line.”

"No! Wait for me, I'll-"

"Yeah I'm not waiting for you," you snip. “I'll... be fine. Just stay on the call okay? For me?

Rintaro tries not to pass out as you start pushing, doctors encouragement coming through on the line, followed with your grunts of agony as you try to bring your two new babies into the world. He knows you’re strong, you don’t need him there, but there’s something deep inside of him that hurts at the idea that you don’t, he’s so close yet no where near close enough to be right there next to you, and he anxiously looks around him as he tries to find a private place for him to cheer you on, call your name, scream it, his soul in agony over something he has no control over.

It could be four minutes or four hours, rintaro has no idea as you finally scream in agony as a small wail breaks over the line, one akin to Akito and Kaiya’s as the two of them entered the world all those years ago.

“Beautiful!” His sister cheers, “just a bit more for Sachiko sis, you’ve got this!”

“No more,” you weakly whimper over the line, and Rintaro tears up as he chews on his thumb.

“Baby,” he chokes, “you’ve got this, okay? You can do this, I’m right here.”

“No you’re not!” You scream.

“Yes I am! I’m right here okay? I’m not going anywhere!”

“Rin I need you-“

“And I’m right here. I promise. Just close your eyes, I’m there, okay?”

Hes not there. He knows you know that. But right now, he can’t feel sorry for himself. He goes silent and listens to the bustling of the doctors and nurses preparing to bring Sachiko into the world, and rintaro has no clue how long it’s been before you’re ready to push again.

“Ready, momma?” He asks, and you let out a sob.

“Im so tired, Rin.”

“One more big push okay?” He chokes. “Push!”

And you do. You let out another shriek as you start to push, rintaro can practically see your legs tremble and face scrunch and throat tight as you let out another blood curdling cry, and before he can think, another set of crying fills the line.

His twins are here.

And he’s not.

“Good job, angel!” He hoots.

“She did so good, Rintaro,” his sister assures.

“I know she did,” he says, hand clutching his heart.

“They’re so handsome Rin,” You babble, and instantly, Rintaro’s face drops. “Such beautiful boys, they're so sweet, so handsome…”

Boys?

Oh fuck. Rintaro briefly thinks back at all the purples and pinks in the closet at home.

Immediately, Rin tries to conjure up an excited tone, squealing out a soft “boys?” in confirmation.

“She’s messing with you," his sister snickers. You’re laughing exhaustedly too, among your sniffles of agony and above the screaming of the newest twin.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” he says, breathless and his chuckles easing out.

“You've got new baby girls, Rintaro," his sister coos.

“We got them, boys!” He announces, causing an uproar of cheers to come from his teammates. He feels his heart sink to his stomach as his throat begins to swell. “I’m so proud of you baby… my good girls.”

“They’re so beautiful, Rin. So beautiful," you cry.

He sits on his suitcase and tries to imagine them, desperately, tiny hands pawing at the air, crying at the newness of the bright light and the world…

All without him. He’s not there.

“Who was born first?” He chokes, desperate to keep his voice steady. It was a complete tossup with the names, whoever was out first or second is precisely how the names would fall. But he just needs you to keep talking to him.

You understand, and you answer shakily, “Sachie,” you sigh. “Sachiko was 20 minutes later.”

“Late; just like momma.”

“Watch it.”

He chuckles around a flood of tears, a hand coming up to bring his hand up to cover his face. Hot, bubbled tears slip down to roll over his thick fingers, trying to stay composed in the airport that’s bustling with too many people.

“Im so proud of you,” he chokes, eyes screwing shut. Not long after, a massive hand claps down on his shoulder, Komori’s eyes flickering with understanding and apology. He’s got nothing to apologize for, but Rintaro takes the kindness regardless and puts a free hand on top of his to squeeze the emotions out. “My amazing girl. Fuck, I can’t wait to see you.”

“Rin, I have to go,” you say, and he hears the gruff voice of the doctor. “I love you so much. Come home safe, you’re no use to me dead.”

“Okay, princess,” he sighs shakily, burying his face in Komori’s stomach to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

He’s 99% sure he should be saying that to you, and not you to him. But regardless.

He waits for the line to die before taking the phone from his ear, blinking up at Komori with absolute heaviness in his heart.

“I should’ve been there,” he whimpers.

“You couldn’t control it, buddy.”

“But I should’ve been there. Not three cities over for some charity that I don't even care about."

It doesn’t matter the assurances Komori could try to pass him. It doesn’t matter that you’re okay, you’re strong and you don’t need him in this moment.

He should’ve been there to squeeze your hand, watch his two babies come into this world with you, kiss your forehead and whisper loving words in your ear.

And he couldn’t manage even that.

[niceutossu]

Serious | Oikawa x Reader

Oikawa doesn’t want to get married until you get hurt and he can’t see you. “Family only,” the nurse tells him coldly. And he tries his best to charm his way through, joking about how you two were even closer than family but the worker doesn’t budge.

“Only blood relatives?” He asks, despite knowing the answer himself.

“Or spouse.” The woman replied, avoiding eye contact as she scribbled down important information and continued ignoring his existence.

“I’m practically-“ Before he could finish, he stopped at the sight of her hand raising.

“Are you legally married?” She interjected, clearly having gone through this conversation dozens of times before. Oikawa couldn’t even blame her for the annoyance, as much as he couldn’t blame himself for trying.

“No.” He says dejectedly, shoulders falling with a deep sigh.

“Then please just wait until actual family gets here.” She states, motioning towards the waiting room as he did his best not to scowl.

Instead, he offered her a forced but friendly smile, retreating towards the uncomfortable hospital chairs. As he sat down the plastic squeaked: loud and jarring, and he grimaced. There was no point in arguing but it didn’t ease the nervousness crawling under his skin. How long had you been here? How long before he could see you? He began tapping his foot restlessly, only serving to amplify the ache in his chest.

You two were family, practically at least. You both lived together. You shared meals, inside jokes, and the kind of silence that only happens between people who really get each other. He knew how you liked your tea, the temperature you liked to have bath drawn to. Was that not family-like?

He clenched his hands, feeling his fingernails dig into his palms as memories started to surface, further sharpening the ache. He’d never bothered to bring up marriage, and you never asked. You both knew—knew what being a pro-athlete entailed. Time off spent planning was time he lost playing. He thought he had made it clear he was still yours and you were his. But now, as he sits helplessly outside your hospital room, he regrets never saying anything.

If you were really his he’d be able to see you, and if he was really yours then he’d be willing to settle down and take things seriously. He feels himself cringe as he remembers similar words Iwaizumi had spoken to him the night you two had first met.

After introductions and hours of chatting, the three of you finally settled into a comfortable rhythm. You and Iwaizumi were a surprise match—though Oikawa teased that it shouldn’t be that surprising given that he had good taste, earning him a synchronized glare from the two of you.

He felt his heart flip in his chest—he really did have good taste (and maybe a type). Later, during a moment of quiet, Oikawa excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, he found the two of you sitting in a mutual silence.

“Hey I was gone for just a second now, what happened to all the good times?” He joked, his signature smirk only lasting a moment before being startled by the sound of the restaurant staff singing happy birthday behind him.

Turning around, he watched as they brought out a small cake with candles. His name written out in chocolate syrup and topped off with powdered sugar in the shape of his jersey number.

“I told her you weren’t worth it but she insisted.” Iwaizumi deadpanned, but the softness in his eyes betrayed him. Oikawa felt a lump form in his throat at the sight of your warm smile. The glow from the candles were nothing compared to the light in your eyes when you looked at him.

“Happy birthday Tooru.” You spoke gently, contrasting the loud cheers behind him. He felt a weird weakness wash over him, one that scared him more than the surprise singing.

You’d already celebrated with him that morning—and afternoon. He’d never thought you’d extend it to dinner. He was known to be a dramatic guy, extravagant even, but being celebrated for those things felt foreign.

Later, as you took a call nearby and he and Iwaizumi argued over the bill, his friend placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi asked, his voice softer than usual, “you’re serious about this, right?” He didn’t need to specify; his question hung in the air, pressing gently but firmly on Oikawa’s usual bravado.

Caught off guard, Oikawa searched for a lighthearted response, but Iwaizumi’s hand didn’t move. He hesitated, then admitted quietly, “I’ve never been celebrated like this before.” He felt small under the weight of his best friend’s discerning gaze.

In all his previous relationships, he had failed to feel true intimacy, always keeping partners at an arms-length. He thought your relationship would be no different, that it’d still be on his terms albeit a bit toxic.

Except it was not like that at all.

You were like a whirlwind in his life, at first catching him off guard but now helping him build solid foundations. Between the two of you, he was definitely more needy. In the past, he would’ve said it was the other way around but you had your own undeniable magnetism. Anyone with eyes would be sure to see it too, and see right through him at the same time.

The feminine niceties he thought he had grown accustomed to had him giddy and unable to keep his hands off you. Everything you did had his heart racing and for the first time in his life, he was nervous to lose someone.

His suave streak had been brutally ended by your presence alone, having made him feel like he was worth loving again and again without even knowing. His own sweet and cheeky angel.

“If it feels good, then take it seriously.” Iwaizumi replied, his words simple but earnest. Before Oikawa could respond, you returned, bringing back your carefree nature he always craved, the same one he was starting to feel like he didn’t deserve.

Despite it being his birthday, despite feeling a certain question rise behind the heaviness in his throat after his exchange with Iwaizumi, he stayed quiet. He could’ve at least made a joke about it then, but he didn’t.

He’d told himself he was taking it, you, seriously—that you would understand without him saying it out loud. You knew him and he knew you, was that not enough? Maybe not to Iwaizumi, who also knew him maybe a bit better than he knew himself sometimes. The thought of losing you the same way he’d lost others left a knot in his stomach.

He had tried to ignore this truth: that you meant something more—not just to him, but to the people he loved. Yet every now and then, there would be reminders of just how deeply you’d embedded yourself into his life.

He started to reminisce on how he’d found out how you kept visiting his nephew after he’d left for Argentina. He’d received a photo out of the blue: you and Takeru, cheek-to-cheek, grinning at the zoo. His younger self would’ve called it impossible—Takeru, in a picture? Smiling? But there it was.

He quickly replied back with a like to the photo and a teasing message along the lines of ‘huh why what’. He’d barely hit send before you replied with another picture. This time it was of you and his older sister pressed cheek to cheek, her eyes shining with the same warmth he felt every time he looked at you.

“Sponsored trip by my favorite Oikawa <3,” you’d written.

As much as he wanted to text back a cheeky remark he felt himself falter, too focused on the way his sisters eyes shined with the same affection he felt for you. It made him feel a little funny, a little weak. The same way he felt when Iwaizumi prodded him. This was family and something else he couldn’t name quite yet.

Without even thinking he called you, needing to hear your voice and feel like he was there with you (and, of course, remind you that he’s your favorite). He’d kept his tone light, playful. But there’d been a weight in his chest, the same question hovering unasked. He knew you could tell in the way you asked him things, lingered onto his replies as if to find some deeper meaning.

Again, he could have asked. He could have made you family in name as well as in his heart, so many times. Except now, that same question haunted him, and he wasn’t sure he even deserved to ask anymore.

He shook his head as if to rid himself of any more good memories, not allowing himself to relish in you with all the regret that gnawed at him. He was so good at not biting his tongue except when it came to things that mattered. Because nothing was serious to Oikawa until it was, for better or for worse.

And he didn’t know exactly when you had become serious to him, but you had. He felt a tremor pass through him at the thought of seeing you look anything less than alive. Or not being able to make you laugh when you come home sullen anymore.

He moved around restlessly at that thought of not seeing you again. It felt wrong—horribly wrong. He took in a deep breath to calm his ragged nerves. He would see you again, even if it meant seeing you at your worst.

You had seen him at his most selfish and prideful and yet, you still reached out to him, unafraid. He wanted, no, needed to show you that he loved every single part of you the same, no matter how overwhelming because no one could be as much as he is sometimes.

All the relationships he had in high school, college, and the flings in-between had felt so stifling. The thought of making a legal commitment had always made Oikawa’s skin crawl. Except now, sitting under the sterile white lights and thinking of just how much you meant to him feels even more suffocating. You weren’t a high school girl or a fling, you were you.

And then the realization hits him hard: maybe he does wants all of it, as long as it’s with you—the highs, the lows, the commitment he once ran from. For there to never be any more regrets, to love and to cherish, all of it as long as it was with you.

But what if he was too late again?

“Tooru?” The soft sound of your voice pulls him from his spiraling thoughts. His head snaps up, eyes wide as he sees you standing there, in a hospital gown, looking a bit pale but alive. Your face is a little worn, eyes sunken in but you’re still here. You’re still you. Relief floods him, so overwhelming he barely notices the creak of the plastic chair as he rises, taking long and purposeful strides towards you.

If it feels good then take it seriously.

He stands in front of you for a moment, not knowing where to place his hands as familiar words gather in his throat the way they had so many times before. Except he doesn’t let himself hold back—not this time. He’d held onto these words for too long, out of fear or pride, whatever it was, it didn’t matter now.

Everything is clear as he sinks down on one knee, eyes locked on yours as he finally gives in to what he’s always wanted: you.

[mintmatcha]

Seasons - Hanamaki x reader

Summary: You’ve been friends with Hanamaki Takahiro since forever- is that something you really want to change?

CW: friends to lovers, cisfem reader, slight angst with a smutty end uwu, vaginal sex WC: 6k+ for: @antique-remains​ - sorry it took so long!

The key to Makki’s place is waiting for you under the loose edge of carpet in the vestibule, just like always.

His apartment is unapologetically lived in. Bits and pieces of his life are strewn across the apartment: sweatshirts and unfolded blankets are tossed over random pieces of furniture, his shoes are kicked off and left in front of the garbage he’s yet to bring downstairs. Down the hall, his unmade bed is proudly on display; the sheets are pulled up in the corners and the comforter left crumpled at the foot of the bed, leaving bits of his threadbare mattress exposed.

It should bother you, the mess that accumulates in the periphery of his life, but the rigidity of a perfectly kept home just wouldn’t feel like him– just wouldn’t feel like home. 

The scent of apple wafts under the overwhelming scent of extra buttered bagged popcorn; he’s lit the candle you gave him for Christmas last year in an attempt to hide the tinge of burning that clings to the air.

You neatly pull off your shoes and place them in the cubby saved especially for you. The sticker with your name on it is peeling at the corners- you make a mental note to replace it later. Maybe pinky and sparkly, something that the girls he brings home won’t be able to ignore.

Not that you care if Makki has girls over. It’s not like you’re dating.

You just want them to know that you’re special to him-

“Is that you or am I getting robbed again?” a voice calls from the kitchen.

“It’s a robber.” you call out and Makki barks out a laugh at the response,  “I’m here to steal your food.”

-Because you are special to Makki, whether he wants to admit it or not.

Keep reading

[tonedtsumu]

Day 12: Hanamaki

Warnings: Very suggestive, drugs, fem!masturbation, oral (fem!receiving), maki begging, mention of titty sucking

Hanamaki never participated in ‘No Nut November’, he thought it was dumb; “freedom to nut” is what he always said. He and Mattsun would do the opposite, ‘Non-stop Nut November’ is what they’d call it, and the first one to skip a day would lose. The only reason he’s participating this year is because he had started dating you, and you thought it would be hilarious to watch him struggle so hard to keep it in his pants for a whole month.

Mattsun had come over to your guys’ apartment for a little smoke sesh; playing games, drinking some beers, smoking some blunts, their usual. You should’ve stopped Maki after his second blunt, knowing how he gets handsy. And now, as his hands were rubbing your legs laid across his lap, you knew it was too late to stop him. Sensing his desire from across the couch, you bid your boyfriend and his best friend a goodnight, getting up and placing a quick but sloppy kiss on Maki’s lips before making your way to your bedroom. It was only a matter of time before he followed after you and begged for something, anything.

Maki’s eyes followed you as you walked away, and only when your frame disappeared behind the closing door did he hear Mattsun speaking to him, “huh?”

“I asked if you’ve lost yet, idiot,” his friend asked after taking a swig, his drink now empty as he placed it on the coffee table in front of him, “the way she was lookin’ at you all night… I would’ve folded on day one.”

Maki rolled his eyes, “how do you think I feel? But no, I haven’t lost yet. She won’t even let me feel her up,” he chuckled; it wasn’t a total lie, but he was being a bit dramatic. He’d come home and get on his hands and knees and beg for just a tiddy in his mouth, sit in the bathroom and wait patiently to catch a glimpse of your wet form emerging from the shower, or ‘accidentally’ grind against you ‘in his sleep’.

Mattsun let out an airy chuckle, smacking his palms to his knees before standing up, “well, godspeed, brother. Good luck with that.” He made his way to the guest room, and once the door shut Maki was scrambling up and out of his seat, hoping to get a kiss from you before going to bed.

What he wasn’t expecting when opening the door was you bare naked, legs opened wide for his sinful gaze to drink in the way your fingers were dipped between your folds, soft pants of his name falling from your lips, “Hiro- wanna cum.”

The sound of your fingers pushing in and out of your cunt and your begging had his cock twitching to life in his pants, “oh, shit, baby.” His eyes, hazy from the weed and the newfound lust, swept over you after he locked the door and quickly stripped himself, joining you on the bed.

His lips brushed against your inner thigh as he slotted himself between your legs, getting an up close view of the pleasure you were giving yourself, “baby, shit, please lemme touch you. Fuck, need you so bad.” He sounded so desperate, so pathetic, maybe that’s why you pulled your fingers from your cunt, bringing them to his lips and moaning as he eagerly licked at them, took them deep into his mouth, groaned at your sweet taste. It wasn’t enough though, he pulled away from your fingers and brought his eyes back to your leaky hole, “she wants me, baby, she needs me.”

With that, your hand made its way to the back of his head, pushing him to delve into your delicious pussy; and he went happily. Thanking the stars and gods above that he was able to finally have you after waiting for so long. He challenged himself to cum for every day he went without the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around his cock; and he savored each and every one of them.

[kusahigunanas]

impromptu rendezvous

↬ hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader ↬ ao3 version // kofi // masterlist

cw: smut, fem & rather feminine reader, friends to lovers, drunk sex, love confessions, vaginal sex, creampie summary: through the years of close friendship you have never felt anything romantic towards hanamaki...but have you really? you feign being drunk to escape an overwhelming party and when he takes care of you, you can't bring yourself to refuse his help. instead, you keep the game rolling until you find yourselves alone in your apartment. word count: 4,791 a/n: old commission i did for @antique-remains, repost from my old account. divider by saradika

"My, my, aren't you a good wife?"

Matsun's sarcastic comment has Hanamaki's eyebrows twitch with irritation, but he doesn't stop nor retort. He's had his good dose of alcohol too, shoelaces of your boots tangling between his fingers as he's kneeling on one knee between your legs, leaning slightly to the right. It puts strain into your own knee but you don't mind; you like the weight of his body and its warmth, especially now, your mind foggy and overwhelmed. It's familiar and personal, great comfort amidst the chaos and noise, and the crowd filling the apartment a little much for your limits.

You didn't hate the party—no, you were always looking forward to Matsun's—but it strained you far past what you expected. You didn't make it easy for yourself either, pouring too much into yourself and too fast. And tomorrow's morning classes be damned, you were ready for even more, but Hanamaki was right there, with his overshielding that was sometimes getting on your nerves, but so needed right then. Gently but firmly, he moved your glass away and excused you both from the company. Soon, you've been herded towards the hallway, packed into your jacket, having your purse shoved under your arm, and sat down for him to deal with your boots.

You're not that drunk to not be able to take care of yourself but once he's dropped to his knees, you've felt it's best to keep your mouth shut and just let him. Wouldn't be the first time either and you know better than to argue against his care—but you can't pretend you don't like him like this now, with his flushed cheeks between your legs, eyebrows knit in focus and their little twitch at Matsun's teasing behind his back. The urge to thread fingers through his hair is real and persistent; you know how soft it is, and you know the smell of his shampoo would linger on your fingers for quite some time but, again, you're not that drunk. Such a move would be shameless even for your long and close friendship, and feigning daze right under Matsukawa's nose could as well be a straight confession of feelings.

Nothing could escape those knowing eyes, even what you haven't dared to admit to yourself. No, it's better to play stupid and limp, and to nibble on your bottom lip, watching Makki on his knees for you, letting him dart you up and wrap arm around your waist once he's dressed himself, ready to lead you outside and to your apartment.

"You're gonna be okay?" Matsukawa is dead serious now, holding the door for you two and lingering there even as you make it past the garden and pavement to your Uber ride.

"We've been worse," Hanamaki scoffs, no offense taken, though. "Get back there and don't drown yourself in beer."

"Sure. Don't break your legs or something."

Your place is only a couple of blocks away but in your current state it would take forever to get there on foot. You would still try though, too dazed to think of a ride, but what do you have Hanamaki for, if not for being your brain in times like these? It would be enough to pack you into the car and trust the driver with the delivery, but he took a seat next to you and let you lean against him.

Matsun's not there anymore to judge and tease you so you grow bolder, as bold as you can in presence of a bystander right under your nose. The crook of Hanamaki's neck is tailored for the shape of your head; you nuzzle up there and close your eyes, to ease the dizziness caused by car's vibrations, yes, but first and foremost to soak yourself in his scent. It's duller under the lingering smell of the party, of the crowd, smoke and that sharp, teasing aftertaste of beer and vodka, but you can still catch a glimpse of him. His cologne is subtle but persistent, like him, but there's the shampoo and shower gel combo you will always recognize after countless times of finding it in your own bathroom after he's spent a night on your couch. 

And under that, deeper, there's him, the natural scent of his body, embarrassingly familiar for the distance you, despite everything, still keep.

It's the scent you've known for the longest and, in prospect of over ten years of your friendship, it's so funny how offensive you found it at first. Always in a hurry, from volleyball club to precious hours reserved for friends, barely squeezed into his tight schedule, he skipped a shower here and there, and as he never smelled bad to you, for some reason it irritated you how much he stood out for your nose and how it distracted you.

You've drilled a habit of keeping his hygiene always on point. But now, in the confines of the small car, with the rough edge of his jacket nuzzled up to your cheek, you wish you could smell more of him, if only a little.

Friends, even the best kind, don't cram their noises into their necks during their shared Uber ride, the sobering part of your brain is trying to point your attention to that, but you ignore it. And Hanamaki doesn't mind it, even wraps his arm around you shortly before you reach your destination, way too late for your liking. But the hold soon returns, first helping you out of the car, then keeping you straight up the stairs and into the elevator, finally leading you to your door.

"Even a blind person could rob you," he mutters, fishing the keys out of your pocket with ease. The lock clicks open with half of a turn, and he sighs, concerned and amused alike.

"Shut up," you mumble, hanging on his shoulder more than needed. "No one has robbed me before."

"Fortune favors fools, eh?"

"You're calling me stupid?" You withstand when he's trying to push you past the threshold—well, as much as your wobbly legs can, heels not helping your case. You're having a taste of upper hand only because Hanamaki lets you, you know it from the playful flickers in his eyes; he's squinting and tilting head to side as you're pulling him two steps back into the corridor—just for him to set you into your prior position with a single pull.

"I'm calling you drunk and too light-hearted." He's finally done and tugs at your arm until you lose balance—and fall straight into his arms, then over his shoulder as he's tripped you and picks you up with ease.

"I'm gonna scream!" You kick and wiggle, but he knows your tricks too well to let you slip out.

"Sure, scream, princess." Covering you with one arm, he shuts the door behind your backs. "Show me what those little lungs can do."

You're carried into the living room, then thrown onto the couch, seemingly with no care for your state, but you know Makki could be far less gentle, if he really wanted to pay you back for your little games. Your mind is fuzzy more from hanging over his shoulder than the landing itself—but still not fuzzy enough to stop you in your tracks. You shamelessly stretch legs, one foot playfully slotted in his hand; he rolls his eyes but undoes the boot, then the other, then helps you out of your jacket and carries everything to the hallway.

He's mapped your apartment better than your current, overly absent roommate has, and you're ready to bet he's actually spent more time here than her through all those years of crashing on your couch. In no time he has a bottle of water and painkillers for you, a heated blanket is pulled out of the cabinet and thrown over your legs, he even helps you with your skincare duty, bringing you make-up removal wipes.

"You could have carried me straight to bed." You didn't want to sound whiny or disappointed, but it does come across as so; you curl your shoulders, unsure of his next move and for the first time since what seems forever unable to read his expression. Hell, you're unsure of your intentions and reason behind the weird longing, your mind free of thoughts, just waiting for his reaction and feeling weirdly shy, as if you were stripped naked and left for his judgment.

Hanamaki indeed seems to judge you, his head tilted to the side just a little, eyes narrowed much like a cat's a moment before the final pounce. He often does so, an old habit of analyzing the court before a move rubbing off on every aspect of his life, but you haven't paid any particular attention to it until now, when his focus is piercing you inside out.

He can strip you of your confidence like no one, years of your friendship a blessing and a curse alike.

"That's a forbidden territory," he finally settles on ignoring the topic, not dwelling on but not quite letting it die right here and now either. "I ain't that much of a pervert to walk into some girl's bedroom just like that. Especially with a girl ripped to the tits."

"I'm not some girl to you, ain't I?" You huff and pout. "Haven't you said I'm almost like a sister?"

For a moment there's a weird look in his eyes, maybe pain, maybe disappointment, but it's quickly replaced by his good old teasing demeanor, "I wouldn't walk into my sis' bedroom either. Sorry, you either sleep here or crawl there on your own. Good luck."

Hanamaki makes a beeline for the door, ready to slink off but when you call out to him by his name, he immediately freezes and looks over his shoulder, as if you pulled on an invisible leash around his neck.

"You're not staying?" You shimmy into one corner of the couch, leaving the other half for him. "We can order Chinese. And— And maybe watch something. On Netflix or—"

"You are aware how it sounds, right?" He says but he's already throwing his sneakers and jacket off, closing the distance between you in a few wide steps. Couch dips under his weight as he's thrown himself straight at it with a loud groan, your side bobbing under you as a result.

You barely hold a yelp in your throat. Why are you so tense suddenly? You've already been way closer than on two sides of the same couch, the distance between you now wouldn't be anything weird even for people who barely know each other.

When you think about it now, your sobering mind slowly connecting the right puzzles, there is some emotional distance between you two lately. You can't pinpoint when exactly it's started; you've been slowly tiptoeing away from each other, building an invisible, thin veil in between. There's still comfort and familiarity you don't share even with your female friends but it's not the same as it used to be.

For a try, you dare to straighten your legs and rest them on his lap. Makki doesn't budge but palpably lingers with the next move; finally, he cups your feet between his big hands and massages them. You don't really need a relief for them but it's a little ritual you two have developed since you've started wearing high heels.

"Chinese then?" You draw a circle with one foot, playfully avoiding his touch.

"I won't fit a single thing more." He makes a tortured face just at the thought. "I've drunk too much."

"You don't look wasted."

Hanamaki snorts and throws head back, his face out of the range of your vision. You watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows his laughter, your mouth dry in a way you've never felt for him. Or maybe you have but it's been easier to brush it off without alcohol clearing your mind with a sadistic precision. You're stripped bare by your own chain of bad decisions, nowhere to hide and no way to pretend anymore.

"Neither do you." He tickles the sole of immobilized foot and holds you through the spasm, merciless despite the tenderness of his hold. "You're not that drunk as you try to act, hmm?"

His fingers trail along the side of your foot and ankle, then up your shin, towards the sensitive area around your knee, a thin layer of your stocking in no way able to protect you from incoming tortures. He keeps you on the edge, fingertips hovering over the point you know it will have you scream, cry, and beg—or worse, if he tickles you for too long.

Warmth creeping straight into your core has nothing to do with this anticipation though; it's intense but not rapid, and you take it for alcohol running in your veins at first, at least until immense need for being touched overpowers everything. The urge to squeeze your thighs and trap his hand in between is strong, anxiety squeezing your lungs even stronger, the mess of thoughts and emotions in your head devastating.

It feels...wrong, to react to his touch like this. You're holding the blame for alcohol messing with you, despite being called out on it and despite your body sobering up with each draft of air. No, it surely has to be the drunkard speaking through you, otherwise you would have to admit—

(To admit it feels wrong, but you need it, you need it so bad you might cry, if you won't get it from him.)

Hanamaki grazes the ticklish spot, impatient for your answer, and this time you can't hold a yelp any longer. It's dangerously close to a moan, your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet but he only cocks an eyebrow, waiting, either missing your reaction or ignoring it.

"I had enough," you admit in a whisper, afraid the trembling of your voice will betray you. "Needed to get out but explaining it all to Matsun—"

He chuckles, amused and understanding. Matsukawa could be a pain in the ass with his overzealous nosiness and you surely were drunk enough to find it troublesome.

"You could have at least told me." He tickles you again, forcing you to laugh and jerk up. His hand slides towards the inner side of your leg and doesn't budge from there. 

You don't move, either, a little ashamed how easily you caved and accepted the crumbs off the plate. Warmth in you is pulsing, not a wave anymore but the first flicker of fire that's bound to explode if you won't extinguish it right here and now.

"Didn't want to sit here all alone." You throw head back, saving yourself at least the torture of his gaze looking for yours. You wish you hadn't thrown the blanket on the floor as soon as he threw it at you, you could hide under it and soak back into your excuses and lies.

"You could have told me that too." Hanamaki is unwavering, his thumb rubbing circles into your stocking. "Instead of playing... Whatever it is. Dragging me here like some drunk rando you keep tabs on, letting him seduce you."

You can't read whether he's teasing you or being dead serious—and it's terrifying. The last thing you want is to hurt him, to have him reject you and close the door not only to whatever is happening between you two now but also to your cherished friendship. You love him, as who doesn't really matter. You need him more than just the physical craving, peaking after months, if not years of repressed yearning. 

You would never forgive yourself, if you lost it all because of drunk carelessness.

"What if I said I wouldn't mind being seduced by you?" You finally break, all cards on the table. Keeping you both on the edge is the worst outcome, you would rather take the ultimate rejection than toying further with his trust and creating distance you two would never close again.

He sucks in breath through clenched teeth, a few seconds of silence unbearable for your poor, fluttering heart. Weight of his fingers against your thigh grows, he nearly sinks them into your flesh before he speaks, his voice so tense it's almost breaking, "Please tell me it was you who said it, not booze messing with me."

"I wouldn't mind being seduced by you." You repeat and adjust your position, looking straight at him now against the urge to hide your face in your hands. Embarrassment is not a word you two share in your dictionary, but the vulnerability of the moment drives you insane, each passing second feeling like burning hot liquid metal poured straight into your heart.

You watch him wipe his face with a free hand, watch his chest bob with a deep, desperate breath. Eyes closed shut, Hanamaki collects racing thoughts; you see his eyebrows twitching in intense focus, a small bead of sweat dripping down his temple. It lasts a few heartbeats, it feels like hours, surely for the both of you, years of experience in reading each other no relief on this completely different ground.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed about it." When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and guttural, speaking straight from his core and stripped bare. "Since the last year— Fuck, I don't know for how long, maybe from the beginning... I feel like I always wanted you—"

He hides face in both hands now and groans, frustrated with his own helplessness and tongue tied with the remains of a drunk haze. Both of you have lost the majority of it at this point, though, at least at the mental level.

"I suck at confessions." He finally admits the obvious and you both collapse into giggles in relief. "I'm much better with my hands."

They're both at you again, exploring your legs with more punch to it. Makki follows the seam of your stockings, up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the lacey welt, and toys with them. He takes his time stripping you of them, teasing and testing, relishing in the feel of your bare skin slowly revealing itself for him.

His fingers are warm, but you still shudder when he cradles your ankles and glides up your calves. You spread your legs for him, but he doesn't reach further, for now satisfied with little twitches and goosebumps covering your skin. He's making you pay for your little lie, you realize with an impatient mewl, and he wouldn't mind having you pull the rope towards yourself, but you let him have his way. You feel guilty, after all, for the quirk of tonight and the silence of numerous months. He can have this moment of triumph.

He's bored with it faster than you thought.

"C'mon, baby girl." He tosses your legs away and pats his lap, a faint teasing smirk on his lips.

You don't need to be told twice.

You roll your dress further up and straddle him. Not until now you realized how tense, hot and heavy you've been, your starved and sensitive pussy twitching just at the brush of his jeans. Thin layer of your panties could as well just not exist, you grind on him for relief—irregular, sharp moves of hips, soon cut by both of his arms wrapped tight around you.

Makki kept himself in shape, you note with satisfaction feeling his muscles tense against your waist. You know of his gym routine, of course, but it's a whole different world when you can touch and appreciate him in his whole glory. You sink your hands under his t-shirt, trace his abs and chest to your liking as you lean for a kiss, at first shy, then sliding your tongue in with ease.

You've imagined it before, but the reality is nowhere close to your fantasies. He's good, he's so incredibly good despite the aftertaste of everything you've poured into your throats before and the clumsiness of the first shared kiss. You're ready to drown in it, forgetting about the whole world, even about the dull pulsing between your legs—if not for his hands relentlessly at work, one kneading your ass, the other unzipping your dress and sliding it down your shoulders.

"Can I?" Hanamaki whispers against your lips, his eyes half closed and glossy. He traces the clasp of your bra and undoes it immediately as you nod.

Dress is rolled down your waist, bra—thrown behind the couch. Makki leans back to see you better, mouth slightly agape at the sight. He squeezes your breasts with both hands, feeling their shape against his palms, swallows hard.

"You're so hot..." He mutters, close to choking on his own words.

You press into his touch, chase the closeness as you grind against him with the right rhythm and pressure now. He welcomes you with a needy groan, his face shoved into your neck, sucking and nibbling, and even daring to bite.

"I'm sorry." He kisses a beeline towards your chest, hot breath grazing your perky nipple.

"You're not sorry." You pull him closer, fingers threading through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm not."

Makki's tongue is divine against your skin. He sucks on your tits with fervor, at first tries to tease, but quickly forgets himself, encouraged by your breathy moans and nails scratching his scalp. He's soon answering the rhythm of your hips too, the front of his jeans bulging, surely tight for his hardening cock. It takes you a few tries in the confines of his hold, but you finally open his belt and zipper and help him out of his briefs.

He groans in relief but doesn't stop sucking, just bucks into your hand when you give him the first, testing stroke. You follow the wordless request, build up a decent rhythm for him even if he doesn't make it easy for you with the work of his lips and fingers. Holding you firm with one arm, he reaches between your legs and returns the favor, fingers toying with your slit.

"So wet for me already?" He tries to tease, his voice on the verge of a needy moan under the relentless ministrations of your hand. His eyes roll into the back of his head as you swipe your thumb against his sensitive tip. "Fuck, that's right... Right here, baby."

You love the way it rolls off his tongue, this casual, endearing pet name he's sometimes used before just to fuck around with you. It's sweet and desperate, drenched with need as he's rutting into your palm, for a split moment forgetting about you and mumbling it again into your breasts once catching himself on being sloppy.

You're honestly no better, losing your mind whenever his fingers toy with your entrance. You want him inside, so badly it tears you apart, but you know you're going to forget yourself as soon as you get what you want. His cock pulsing in your hand doesn't make it easy for you, it's like a torture at this point, torture you want to—have to—endure for him. One finger in, two, three—you clench your teeth and squeeze him tighter in your hand, on the verge of begging him to ruin you, fighting against it, soaking in immense pleasure of having your slick walls caressed exactly how you need it.

"Not gonna— Fuck, last long if you—" Hanamaki peels himself off your chest, puts everything he still has in him into pushing his high away. "Lemme— Lemme take care of you first."

He guides you to lean against him, hands against his chest, hips angled to reach your sweet spot better. Focused on self-control, you missed how he's been relentlessly looking for it, testing, observing, attentive despite his own need trying to take over.

"T-there..." You help him as much as your trembling thighs let you, arching your ass into his hand. "Don't stop now."

"I won't."

Toes curling and pleasure turning your body into spasm, you almost lose the perfect balance at the crucial moment. But Makki is there for you, holding you close and right, helping you ride your high until the last delicious second. You slump against him, blessed, exhausted but nowhere close to being full; you mewl with protest when he pulls out of you.

Makki cocks an eyebrow, surprised and hopeful at the same time, "Do you still wanna—"

You glance down at this dick, beads of precum glistening at its tip, and put the last ounce of power left in you into lifting your hips once again. He mutters something about lack of protection, neither of you listen, sanity all gone with a single swipe between your folds.

"Gonna be slow—" You can see in his eyes how much it costs him, to be mindful of your weakened, overstimulated state instead of throwing you on your back and fucking you stupid. You would take it, you would take everything, but his restraint tastes the best now.

He keeps his word, filling up inch by inch, holding you to ease strain for your trembling knees. Before your head falls into the crook of his neck, you catch a glimpse of his expression, blissed out from the simple pleasure of your wet pussy squeezing him tight. He whispers your name like a prayer, cradling you close and fully impaled on him, savoring the moment before you force your bodies to move again.

You start first but you can bounce on it only a few times before he has to take over, holding your hips for you. He stays true to his promise; even when his arms start giving up and his upward thrusts grow sloppy, he stays gentle and sweet—as much as a man drunk of you can when chasing his high. 

There's no rhythm to it, more than anything you just sway together, but just being full of him is enough. Thighs flush to him, you soak into him, chest to chest, your face in the crook of his neck, his breath heavy and moist in your ear. He throbs deep in you, close to release since the moment he's sunk into you, but stubborn to endure a little more, for another thrust, for another frantic budging of your hips, for another twitch of your pussy around him. He struggles to praise you for it too, his voice dying on him whenever he tries though, leaving him with just a string of groans and pieces of your name in between, over and over again.

He's trying to say it one more time when it finally hits him. His arms tremble and he sinks you onto his cock one more time, spilling his seed deep inside. You hold him through it, nails digging into his shoulders through the t-shirt, almost crying in your own overstimulation. 

Hanamaki wraps himself around you as well, soaking into your dry sobs, one hand soothingly petting the small of your back.

"You did so well, baby," he rasps into your ear, kissing the trail of sweat next to it.

You did so well—like back in high school when you broke your dominant arm and struggled to take notes with the other. When you got drunk for the first time and he held your hair as you were leaning over the toilet. When you broke and cried after a hard exam in your first year. When you finally got rid of your horrible ex.

He's praised you so many times before. But none sounded as sweet as the one now, in his embrace, breathing in air full of his scent, sharing the warmth of your sweaty bodies.

Still connected, you lean together to the side and collapse into the couch. It's uncomfortable, especially for Makki and his long limbs, but you both have reached your limit, and even a risk of being eventually caught by your roommate doesn't prompt you to move.

"You were right, should have carried you to the bedroom," Hanamaki sighs heavily against your neck and cradles you closer, as away from the edge as you both can fit.

"I'm always right," you chirp with confidence and prompt yourself for a pinch or nudge you would get in return, but he just laughs and guides your head to rest in his palm.

"Let's leave regrets and consequences for tomorrow." He says after a moment of silence, long enough for you to think he's dozed off. His lips are pressed close to your skin, his voice barely audible. "I don't wanna think of anything else other than you finally in my arms."

[heich0e]

18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact!

"oh, good"—takahiro's familiar head of strawberry blonde hair pops up over the back of the sofa as you step through the door, toeing off your work shoes in the narrow entryway of your shared apartment—"you're home!"

he pushes the gaming headset he's wearing off his ears, leaving it and his controller abandoned on the couch as he pulls himself up over the back of it. his long legs carry him quickly across the width of your modest home, and before you know it he's upon you—taking your bag from your hands and helping you free your arms from your coat.

you laugh a little at his eagerness as he impatiently tugs your outerwear off. "yeah, i'm home."

"thank god," he replies solemnly, setting the bag you take to work with you off to the side. he takes your hands in his and uses his hold on them to tug you forward towards him. he peers down at you, 186cm of man with the most deceptively soft flutter of his lashes. "sit on my face?"

"takahiro!"

your protest is half chastising and half a giggle, and when you try to pull your hand from his to swat at his chest he just twines your fingers together and holds you tighter. he pouts a little at you in the wake of what he interprets as refusal.

"baby, i've been waiting for you to get home for hours," he tells you pointedly, pulling you a bit closer so your bodies are flush against each other. his hands slip nimbly to your hips, simultaneously pawing at you and pressing you as close to his body as humanly possible. you don't miss the press of something firm in his sweatpants as he holds you against him—nor do you doubt the veracity of his statement in the wake of the sensation.

"at least let me shower," you barter with him, pressing weakly against his chest in a halfhearted attempt to escape his insistent touches.

he shakes his head. "can't wait."

"hiro," you laugh, squeezing your eyes shut, "i just walked in the door."

"i know," he replies, dipping down and dotting a kiss to your temple. "you must've had a long day."

you hum in agreement, luxuriating for a moment in the soft press of his lips as they slip down to your cheek.

"so let me help you relax," he murmurs into your skin, his hands at your waist slipping further down to paw at the back of your skirt. he takes a little step back towards the couch, drawing you along with him like a dance. in no time at all he reaches the arm of the sofa, and he topples back, splayed against the couch cushions where you're sure he spent most of his day. he peers up at you, smiling wolfishly. "i've got the perfect seat waiting for you."

you sigh, but the sound is as fond as it is exasperated.

"let me at least take my tights off," you mutter. "you've ripped enough that i'm down to my last two good pairs."

he pushes himself up onto his elbows, his eyes alight with excitement. "be my guest."

you shoot him a wry look, shimmying your skirt up over your hips so you can slip your thumbs into the waistband of your nylons. makki's attention is rapt as you tug the tight, clinging material down your thighs—watching every inch of their painfully slow descent. once you've kicked them off in a heap on the living room floor, your hands move towards the zipper of your skirt.

"no, no,"—he stop you before you can begin to remove the garment—"leave that on."

you look at him with a brow drawn up in question. "why?"

he gnaws on his lip, his eyes flickering back down to the glimpse of soft, lace-trimmed cotton he can see peeking out from under the bunched up hem of your skirt.

"you look so hot in business clothes," he tells you, groaning brokenly as he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure. "like a sexy teacher."

"you're a pervert," you remark, but you don't protest as he stretches forward and tugs you towards the sofa by the hem of your skirt.

"oh, definitely," he agrees cheerfully.

you shuffle forward on the sofa until you're straddling his face, and his hands find yours again—interlocking your fingers as you hover over him on your knees.

"hi," he remarks, a boyishly charming grin on his face as he peers up at you from between your parted thighs.

"hi," you quietly return the greeting with a light laugh, and he squeezes your fingers with his own. your legs are starting to burn from holding yourself up over him, but because of the way he's holding your hands you can't press them down into the sofa to support you.

your only option is to sit, or to suffer.

takahiro lets his head loll to the side, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh. he nips at you playfully afterwards, and when you hiss slightly in surprise, his tongue darts out and slides against the sting to soothe it.

"you didn't even ask me how my day was before you manhandled me over here, you know," you remark, but there's not nearly enough complaint in your tone for it to be sincere.

hiro hums, a placating, easy sound, and presses another kiss to your thigh. "sorry, baby. how was your day?"

"it was good," you say, your hips dipping ever so minutely closer to his waiting mouth. "how was yours?"

"it was okay,—" hiro answers, but his words are mostly breath.

you watch your boyfriend swallow thickly, like there's suddenly saliva pooling in his mouth. his eyes are fixed to the little damp spot you feel inking across the cotton of your panties, but they flicker back up to yours—hungrier now than they were a moment prior—before he speaks again.

"—but it's about to get way better."

[luvnami]

its hiro missing hours

hanamaki takahiro loves your pussy. it's gotten to the point where you're five orgasms in, and he's still begging you to cum for him.

"please, pretty girl? just one more."

"that's- ah! what you said just now!" your voice comes out in a broken whine as hanamaki pushes the vibrating dildo against your g spot. "h-hiro, i can't- no more!"

your thighs tremble around his head. the soft, pink tufts of his hair tickle your sticky skin as he kisses your clit.

"yes you can, you've cum more than eight times before. this is nothing. just for me? please?" he pouts, though you can't see it.

your half-lidded eyes roll back into your head as hanamaki thrusts the dildo in and out of your sloppy cunt. your poor, abused clit throbs. yet, each nudge against your favourite spot makes your womb melt. you barely even fathom your next high creeping over the edge as you rut your hips into hanamaki's face.

"guh- mmph! hiro, m'close! feels so good!" you babble, back arching off the bed.

his lips suck on your clit, tongue lapping on the underside of it as you cum for the sixth time on his mouth. hanamaki humps the bed desperately and his weeping cock squirts all over the sheets. a gush of fluid dampens his face, but he moans through it, his brain going blank as your pleasure doubles as his.

"f-fuck," he gasps. "fuck. you're so good to me. thank you, thank you, baby."

he kisses your inner thigh, pulling out the dildo as you try to catch your breath.

"we're stopping at three next time," you huff, but make grabby hands towards your boyfriend anyways.

his ears would've perked up if he were a dog. hanamaki eagerly dives into your embrace, snuggling against your face and peppers your hot cheeks with kisses.

"four?" he offers.

you pause. "we'll see."

[antique-remains]

Let Me Show You

Banner by @lilchopin1

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Summary: Takahiro is feeling insecure and you help reassure him of your love…with your mouth.

WC: 882

TW’s: GN!Reader X Hanamaki Takahiro, Oral (M receiving), Gentle face fucking, Cum swallowing, Kissing after cum swallowing. Praise (M recieving), Dirty talk, Baby as pet name.

Laying in bed with Hiro, his head is leaning against you and his fingers are tracing the freckles on your arm.

“You sure you love me?” His eyes peak up at you as he asks the question. “Sure this isn’t some long elaborate prank?” You chuckle, setting down your phone that you’d been scrolling on. “I’m very sure Hiro. I love you.”

“But are you sureeee? Sometimes it’s hard to believe that you love me. I’m just a jobless loser that doesn’t have his life figured out.” You frown at his self loathing, carding your fingers through his strawberry brown hair.

“Where is this coming from? Did I do something to make you feel this way?”

“No…it’s just…I feel unworthy of you sometimes.” He buries his face in your stomach and sighs.

“You’re so worthy Hiro. Sometimes I feel the same way. I feel so lucky that I have an amazing partner that loves me like you do. I love you so much that I can’t even put it into words. When we’re together everything just feels complete and right. You’re my best friend.”

He peeks his head up a little at your praise. “You mean it?“ A small smile cracks on his lips. You grasp his chin and pull him to face you.

“I mean it” you punctuate by kissing him gently on the lips. His face is such a cute color of pink, you see it dust over his nose and his cheeks along with his freckles. There are some old acne scars that are slightly visible, reminders of when you were both just teenagers meeting in highschool anatomy class, falling for him when he made a stupid joke about the class skeleton arm bone, asking if you found it ‘humerus.’ You don’t think he’s ever made you stop laughing since then.

“Can I show you how much I love you baby?” He nods as you kiss his nose, pushing him to lay back into the bed. You start with his cheek, his ear, his neck. His breath hitches as you trail your mouth down his collar bone and press wet kisses down his chest before lifting his shirt up to flick your tongue against his pink nipples. You mouth down his chest, getting messier as you go down his navel and follow his happy trail. Following it down, down, down until you’re taking his zipper in your teeth and pulling it down. Hiro is panting, lip between his teeth as his pupils are blown wide. You’re devouring him with messy kisses over his bulge through his briefs, sucking the wet spot over his tip and cherishing the salt from his precum.

You hold eye contact as you moan in appreciation at his taste.

“I love you Hiro” you say as you pop off of his tip and start to pull his pants down.

“F-fuck…love you” he lifts up to help you take his pants and boxers off all the way. You don’t waste a second more as his cock is revealed. It’s so long and pretty and an angry red shade at the tip, so so hard for you. His fingers card through your hair gently but firmly. Holding you steady as you kiss and suck and lick him. He’s so responsive, bucking and shaking as you devour his cock greedily with your hot wet mouth.

Suddenly, you take him whole. Swallowing as you feel him hit the back of your throat. As he cries out in ecstasy, you grab his hand that’s in your hair and show him that you want him to use you however he’d like. You hold eye contact as he guides you in fucking your throat, humming around him in bliss. You love being used by him like this. He looks so fucked out as he lifts his hips up to join your bobbing head. Drool pools past your lips and drips down his balls as he picks up the pace.

“Fuck I’m going to cum” he whimpers as he cries for you. “Fuck, I love you. I fucking love you. Take my cum baby.”

It’s the most beautiful sight as his eyes cross and he shakes as he cums for you, eagerly swallowing everything he has to give you, making sure you stay as deep as possible until you feel his cock stop throbbing. You giggle and stick your tongue out as you pop off to show him that you swallowed it all.

All of a sudden he grabs you and pulls you up to him, kissing you hard and messy. He moans into your mouth, enjoying his taste on your tongue.

“You believe me now?” You tease as you press your forehead to his. He laughs

“Yeah I think so. You had a pretty convincing argument.”

Taking your hand, he kisses each knuckle. He spends a second longer on your ring finger. Thinking of the engagement ring he has hidden in the back of the closet. “Can I show you how much I love you, though?” He asks with a teasing smile. You feel his cock harden again underneath you. You both spend the rest of the night wrapped up in eachothers arms making love to each other. But neither of you can win the competition of who loves each other more.

Notes: Thank you for reading! This was my love letter to Takahiro as he is my favorite character ever and is so underrated. If you liked please reblog comment and give a follow! I’d love to be friends!

[luvnami]

playstation controller - matsuhana x fem!reader

an | based on this image, for my dearest @rrazor <3 happy birthday cw | anal, fingering, oral, mdni 18+, 700+ wc

there’s something incredibly erotic about watching matsukawa fuck hanamaki.

you sit with hanamaki’s head in your lap, letting him hold onto your soft thighs as matsukawa wrecks him from behind. 

“does that feel good, ‘hiro?” your thumb strokes his cheekbone. 

hanamaki thinks you look like an angel. he cranes his neck up to stare at you, pretty and illuminated by the bedroom light, replying with a slight nod. 

“y-yeah, fuck. feels so good, issei,” he groans when matsukawa’s cock grazes a particularly delicious spot. 

matsukawa’s tan skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, his fluffy eyebrows drawn together. no matter how many times the three of you have sex, it feels so mind-meltingly good that he might as well be a born again virgin. his hands dig into hanamaki’s hips as he fucks him at a steady pace. the room is filled with the sounds of skin on skin, and stuttered groans from both males. 

hanamaki nuzzles into the flesh of your lower belly. he likes it, calls it your cute lil’ pooch, despite your protests.

“baby.” he presses a kiss to your hip. “wanna eat you out. please?”

you hum. matsukawa moans at the thought. 

“someone’s greedy today,” you muse, but open your legs anyways, letting hanamaki eagerly dive into your warm pussy. 

he’s gentle. he’s always been that way, always been that kinda guy, to hug you from behind and lend you his cardigan when you’re cold. conversely, matsukawa’s charismatic. he walks on the side of the pathway that faces the road, and tilts the umbrella towards you when it’s raining, even if he gets soaked. 

hanamaki swirls his tongue around your clit and you whimper. your legs part even wider, fingers threading through his short hair. matsukawa picks up speed and his hands explore the expanse of hanamaki’s naked skin, making the male beneath him tense. matsukawa’s thumbs fit perfectly into the divot of the dimples by his lower back. almost like a playstation controller, he thinks. 

hanamaki’s saliva mixes with your slick and he’s so hard, the head of his cock is redder than his flushed cheeks. he eats you out like a man starved, anyways. you gasp when his fingers push into your swollen pussy.

"'h-hiro!”

you tug on his hair and hanamaki nearly cums there and then. he’s so easy when it comes to you. matsukawa thrusts into hanamaki hard and he makes a surprised noise, head bumping between your legs. 

“fuck, sorry,” matsukawa pants. 

hanamaki’s nose and mouth are drenched with your juices, his pupils so blown out you swear he’s pussy-drunk. matsukawa’s so close. his cock throbs with the need to cum inside, but he wants to see the both of you finish, too. he slips a hand over hanamaki’s hard-on and tugs, his other hand holding his hips up. 

hanamaki keens. his mouth returns to sucking on your clit, flicking at it with his tongue as his fingers thrust into you. the vibrations of his moans around you make your legs tremble. 

“s-so close, 'hiro. fuck, feels so good,” you cry. 

one more thrust against your g-spot and you’re cumming, humping into hanamaki’s face as he moans and shudders. he cums all over matsukawa’s fist and the brunet follows soon after, gasping and bucking his hips as he paints hanamaki white from the inside. 

the room stills, all three of you riding out your highs and catching your breath. the smell of sex fills the air. 

“shit.” matsukawa’s chest heaves. 

hanamaki lies where he is, unwilling to move from his slumped position. his cheek is pressed against your inner thigh. you move his bangs out of his eyes and he hums, leaning into your touch. 

matsukawa pulls out and leans down to kiss hanamaki’s lower back. his thumbs ghost his back dimples again. 

“‘hiro, you’re like a playstation controller, you know?” he grins.

hanamaki looks at him over his shoulder. “what the fuck, dude.”

you stifle a giggle. 

matsukawa moves his thumbs this way and that, the rest of his fingers digging into the flesh around hanamaki’s hips as he pretends to be playing forza on his ass. you laugh even louder when hanamaki kicks at matsukawa’s knee and the both of them collapse over one another, effectively suffocating you beneath their bodies. 

“can’t believe i got my pussy eaten out before gta six,” you say.

hanamaki gives you an annoyed look. matsukawa snorts. 

[sirxlla]

Got a prompt for batboys!

Batboys reacting to their fem!reader wearing nothing but panties and stockings greeting them with a cute smile after they got home from patrol 👉👈

Greeting Them In Your Panties & Stockings/Socks After Patrol

-------------------------------------------------

Dick: His jaw hit the floor with such speed that you were afraid there was a hole in the ground. Patrol had been awful and that information had been relayed to you so you decided he required a surprise.

He literally pinched himself to make sure he was still awake. A groan left his lips you guided him onto the living room couch, straddling him.

"Just let me take care of you." You whispered in Dick's ear, the dark lace navy fabric of your panties and bra making his heart hammer and his breath quicken.

"Just let you take care of me." He repeats not really hearing what you said or what he repeated, he's just in heaven but in this case, you're the only person in need of worship.

You kissed him deeply, your hands on the sides of his face, guiding his mouth against yours. You press your pelvis into his armor making him groan, causing you to smirk against his lips.

"Baby, Baby, please. Please let me get out of my armor. Fuck, please." He whines and groans as your lips move to his neck. You giggle, not allowing him a single second to take his gear off before removing it yourself as slowly as possible. Jesus this was gonna be a long night.

Jason: "Oh- Ho- Oh....Ayyye, Girl don't play with me." He laughs as he sees you answer the door in a red thong, black tights and a black lace bra. "I'm beat, you little Devil Woman."

"You sure?" You giggle and wrap your arms around him, kissing him gently.

"It's gonna take more than you in your panties to get me riled, Angel." He states with a smile as he takes his gear off, looking down to get his boots up, and as he looks up you flash him your breasts.

"Oh, that's it, Babygirl!" He kicks off his shoes and laughs as he bolts towards you. You go to take off but he catches you by the hips and presses himself into your ass. He grabs you and slings you over his shoulder, smacking your ass and taking you to your shared bedroom, you'd have hell to pay for being so cheeky.

Bruce: It's close to Halloween and you had found bat-themed lingerie, not that Bruce usually had time after calls and such but it was still fun to have.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Caped Crusader, Batman." You smirk, turning around sitting in his chair in front of the BatComputer in the very skimpy black lingerie. He covered his mouth as he blushed underneath the cowl before he cleared his throat and joined in on the roleplay.

"You know, you shouldn't be in here, Mrs. Wayne. What would your husband say about this?" He smiled and leaned down to kiss you, he's tired but right now he's just happy to entertain you and glad you wanted to surprise him. Bruce often worried he was too tired and therefore too boring for you so when you showed interest in him after such long periods of nothing it meant the world to him.

"What Bruce doesn't know won't hurt him...Besides, I always had a thing for sweaty men in grease paint." You smirk and speak in a sultry voice to keep the roleplay going. Gently taking his cowl off, pressing another kiss to his lips. He picks you up to get you to the shower with him, letting you wrap your legs around him. There was no shower sex due to his exhaustion after patrol but it was really nice to just spend time with him, just some really really nice quality time in the tub.

Tim: Patrol was awful, and when it was bad like this, he'd come to your place, oftentimes still in his gear, knocking on your door and hugging you in the entryway of your apartment.

"Hey, Y/N. I know it's late, I didn't wanna wake you up but tonight was awful." He says as you open the door, his eyes filled with glossy tears but even so his breath hitches as he sees you in your entirety. You're in lacy panties and sleep mask. Of course you are, you're home alone and don't like wasting laundry. It's four in the morning but those cute little lace panties that were so small it's crazy they're still allowed to be anything but a thong and those knee high socks? Adorable.

"Oh, Timmy. It's alright, you can always come by, no matter what." You hugged him and pulled his body to yours, not minding the hardness of his armor. You saw the almost tears in his eyes and the tightness in the way he holds his shoulders, pulling him inside but not allowing him to leave the hug.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Your voice was full of concern, his heart hammers, his mind focused elsewhere. Feeling your body against him somehow made it all better, a salve for his heart and head a throbbing between his legs.

He strips off his armor, following you to bed a magnet to metal so he can cuddle you, letting his guard down and finally allow himself a full lung's worth of breath. He cuddles against you, appreciating your very little clothes because they allow the warmth of your body to reach his skin, making him feel whole again, like the world's not on fire anymore, just maybe in his pants.

Damian: "Come home, I have a suprise. xxx Your Beloved." You texted him as you lay in his bed wearing dark green stockings, a dark red bra, yellow panties and black heels, checking your nails as you wait for a text back.

"I am busy, Woman. You'll have to wait." Damian responded quickly as he was on patrol and currently getting his ass handed to him by Mr. Freeze.

"I'll be here, Birdboy." You text back and wait for him to get home but two becomes three and three becomes four and you've slowly nodded off still in your lingerie and your makeup.

You had big plans to suprise Damian but by the time he gets home he finds you passed out on the couch with pink fuzzy handcuffs in your hand. "Cute" he thought as he snapped a picture with his phone, an actual smile gracing his features. It's adorable how before he met you there wasn't smile line on his face and slowly over the last six months you can see a very small faint line from him smiling so regularly around you but if you or anyone else he denies it of course.

-> Masterlists

-> Send me requests/prompts if you'd like

[dollfacefantasy]

you and jason don't fight too much, but when you do, it can get ugly.

he shouts, you yell. the back end of his fist bangs against the wall. your eyes water with tears you refuse to release. you both say things you don't mean, words you wish you could take back the second they leave your lips.

these arguments usually center around one issue. jason's abhorrent communication skills. it can take many forms -- he's struggling but won't come to you for help, he's distant and making you feel at fault, you feel like you're drowning but don't know if you can depend on him to be there.

whatever the specifics may be, it always ends the same way. you, in a storm of fiery defiance, snatch your pillow and blanket from the bed. he scoffs, sarcastically asks you where you're going. you don't give him an answer. you simply make your way to the couch, slamming the bedroom door behind you as loud as you can.

while you set yourself up on the large sectional in the living room, jason is left in empty quietness. he hates it. he doesn't want to be the one to apologize. he doesn't want to need you more than you need him. but more than that, he hates when you're mad at him.

so he lays down, his body stiff and his eyes trained on the ceiling. he waits. he gives it an hour, maybe two if the fight was particularly bad. then he gets up and creeps out to the living room. he scans the dark area bathed in the tv's glow, ensuring you're asleep before he pads closer. he's only correct half of the time, but you let him think you're always unconscious.

carefully as he can, he joins you on the sofa, silently thanking your past selves for buying the one with the wider seats. his thick arm loops around your waist, and he pulls you flush against himself.

he doesn't say anything. he just watches you sleep. he watches how peaceful and perfect you look. he wonders how it was even possible that he was angry at you such a short time ago.

his breath fans against the back of your neck, and he stays still for a minute, making sure you stay asleep. once he feels like you're not at risk of waking up, his hand sweeps over the side of your head. his fingers press against your hair, moving any stray locks away from your ear.

he kisses behind your ear once, twice, then three times, following the curve of the shell. he keeps his face against your skin. your scent floods his head, and warmth fizzles throughout his body. finally his eyes close.

there's no whispered 'i love you' or 'i'm sorry,' but there doesn't need to be. you know those things are true. you can feel them.

divider by @/cafekitsune

[dc-jxsontxdd]

Jason Loves being soft with you. Jason is actually a really soft person in general, he just doesn't have the stature to match. He gets something out of the ability to hold you gently. To have you react to him like he isn't this hulking mass of muscle.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, watching you sleep softly next to him, kissing your forehead on a bad day and never forgetting to kiss you goodbye and hello. He's not always aware of it and if you asked him he'd blow it off or tell you "bare minimum babe"

That's another thing. He loves pet naming you. Babe, baby, princess, doll. He loves complimenting you and telling you how pretty he thinks you are.

He's so flowery with his language. " Whatever you need baby" in the softest mutter, a promise to you as he kisses your hand. "My favorite thing is getting to come home to my baby" like bro is unconsciously romantic he really does not think about it !!

[plummoi]

just omi and atsumu being boyfriends

tw: @plummoi

[omilette1402]

can't think of a caption so have these silly guys