Follo degrading you and being mean in bed to relieve his stress but during aftercare he just starts crying pathetically and apologizing like his life depends on it... 🤤
Could you do a Follo x Reader Nsfw fix, please? So like reader is a cleaner who like a chill person but gets super flustered in relationships, but she secretly has a hair pulling and bitting king, she likes getting her body marked up and hair pulled on. And also has a BIG secret Breeding kink, Lile she wants a baby and stuff. If please, make that the fix and include some fingering, size difference and aftercare please! In short, cleaner reader wants a cute baby that looks like follo, and kinda (full on) begs follo not to go soft on her, with soft aftercare and a little snip of a pregnancy headcanon. Please and thank you!!!
You don't need to write this if you don't wanna I won't pressure you, don't worry! PS: You seem like a amazing person personally to me cause you page and stuff seems great!
Yes ofc ! ♡
𖹭.ᐟ follo x f!reader
𖹭.ᐟ CW: smut, doggy style, fingering, breeding, slight fluff at the ending
𖹭.ᐟ WC: 2.2k
· ─── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ─── · · ─── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ─── ·
“You want me to do what?!” Follo whispers incredulously, staring into your eyes like you just asked him to commit a heinous crime. In his eyes you may as well have. That list of kinks you just gave him shook him just a little.
Pulling hair. Spanking. Breeding, ect..
Sure, they weren't too crazy, and he wasn't as innocent as he looks—but he was afraid of accidentally hurting you, or doing something wrong. On the other hand, his pants felt painfully tight just imagining it.
A smile plays on your lips and you tilt your head in a soft manner. “What? You heard what I said.” Your hand curved around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him closer. “C'mon pleaseeeee?”
He sighs softly and leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, hands coming up to carefully cradle your cheeks. “I can't say no to you.” His voice a gentle murmur against your lips. His gaze drops to your lips, the soft, gentle curve of them—it's nearly hypnotizing. “You're so pretty, honey.”
A light pink dusts over your cheeks, humming against his lips—you pull him closer, letting your lips meet in a soft kiss. Follo sighs against your lips and settles between your legs, his hands traveling down your cheeks and every dip and curve of your body. He grasps your hips, dragging you closer gently while deepening the kiss—pushing his tongue past your soft lips.
“I don't want you to hold back on me.” You murmur, the sound of your voice muffled against his lips as your hands leave his hair to trace down his spine. He pulls back from the kiss and groans slightly, still worried about hurting you despite the aching urge in his cock to give in to your every whim. “You're sure, baby?”
You nod, grabbing the back of his shirt and slowly bunching it up to try and take it off him. He sighs wearily and takes off his shirt revealing his bare chest and torso to you. His head dips back down to press a soft kiss to your cheek while his hands pressed under your shirt, lifting it up and revealing more and more of your soft skin. “You're so perfect.” He murmurs, pulling your shirt off over your head, tossing the fabric mindlessly to the side.
For a moment he just admires you, admiring every soft curve, the way your skin looks under the dim light. It's undeniably sensual—it makes him want to handle you like something fragile, despite your clear want and need for him to be rough. Follo was normally very polite, so imagining him being rough, especially with someone he cared about so much, felt nearly impossible even with his promise to be rough like you asked.
He groaned softly and tugged down at your shorts, watching the fabric slip down your skin, showing off the panties you were wearing. Fuck, his cock felt harder, straining against his pants—throbbing just to be inside you. He couldn't help but whimper a little, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. His hand slides down to your thigh, spreading your legs apart—fingers tracing along the hem of your panties.
You let out a small moan, glancing down at him, watching his fingers inch closer and closer—dragging over your clothed pussylips, tracing up your slit before circling your clit softly with the pad of his thumb. His eyes dart up to your face, watching your expression carefully—seeing how your brows furrow in pleasure. He increases the pressure of his thumb slightly, pressing down on your clit more.
A breathy whimper leaves your lips, bucking your hips—trying to get more friction. “H-hey… I said, be rough, not tease me.” You whined, a small pout on your lips. Follo laughed quietly, smiling before taking his fingers off of you. “Okay, okay.” He relents, dragging off your panties with a small tug—watching your hips lift for him and your legs spreading open for him.
He chokes back a moan seeing your dripping pussy, his gaze tracing your slit, the way your wetness and arousal drips down slowly. Biting his lip to muffle any sounds he rubs down your thighs till he reaches your folds. Carefully he spreads them with his thumbs, watching the way your hole flutters around nothing.
“You're just so… beautiful.” He murmurs, like he just can't say it enough. It will never be enough, to him words can't describe how gorgeous you are to him, from head to toe and especially when your cunt is dripping for him. A finger begins to prod at your hole, slowly, slowly pushing in without warning. He groans at how tight and wet you feel around his digit.
His hands aren't huge, he's not as big as the others in general—standing at a slightly above average 5 foot 9. He wasn't huge, but bigger than you, and his fingers were big enough to stretch out your tight pussy. Each time his calloused but gentle fingers push inside your honeyed cunt it feels like the first time all over again, warm and perfect.
A moan leaves your lips, quiet yet whiny and high-pitched, hips bucking to meet the thrusts of his fingers as he adds a second digit. The pace picks up, his fingers curling meticulously to hit your g-spot—tearing another louder moan from your chest, the sound almost guttural.
Your back arched, grasping his shoulders while arousal dripped from your cunt down to his fingers. Each curl and thrust of his fingers splashed wetness across your thighs and his wrist—the sight was erotic.
The aching growing bulge beneath his pants twitched, straining hard against the thick fabric—he whimpers, rubbing his crotch against your inner thigh while plunging his fingers in and out of you.
His brows furrow, looking down at you with something that can only be explained as carnal desire—and so very amenable to your every demand and need. Something in him snaps, his eyes are filled with more than just that desire, it's a mix of things, love, infatuation…lust. His fingers slip out of your sloppy hole before moving to haphazardly take off his sweatpants and boxers.
His cock springs free, smacking against his lower abdomen, just below his belly button. His reddish tip leaking a clear gossamer.
Your lips part at the sight, trembling at how he's looking at you—looking at you like he wants to eat you alive.
Follo, often seen as polite, and even altruistic sometimes—but now, he's like a different person, not churlish, but almost debauched. It makes you quiver, but it also makes you wetter. It makes you want him more—and to actually go through with what you asked. Rough you up a bit, and fill you with his babies.
His free hand slipped under your neck, tangling in your hair, smashing his lips up against yours. His kiss was firm albeit gentle all at once, pulling you close to press his bare chest to yours—tongues tangling together sloppily.
While his kiss grows messier your arms wrap around his torso—nails scratching down his back, eliciting a breathy moan from his lips. He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, rubbing the head against your clit.
He swallows your moans, groaning as he pulls away—gazing down at your face he smirks slightly. “Are you sure you want all this?” His head cocks to the side curiously, making sure that you really want what you asked for—if you'll really take what he dishes out.
“Yes.” You mewl, growing impatient. You just need him so badly—whining when his cock presses against your cunt.
A small laugh leaves his throat, reaching down to grab your waist and flip you over onto your stomach as he mumbles, “Okay, okay baby. Don't get angry at me.” His voice is a soft but a low drawl, the gravel in it from the lust obvious. He grabs your hips and lifts your ass into the air–pulling you onto your knees with your face against the pillows.
You look back at him, biting your lip to muffle an impatient whine—watching while he aligns his cock with your entrance, prodding at your tight hole before pushing in. His eyes practically roll back, watching your pussylips swallow up the tip of his throbbing cock. He groans, hips stuttering as he grabs your ass—fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
“So fucking tight…”
His hips buck forward pushing deeper, and deeper till he bottoms out. You mewl at the sensation of being filled up by his cock, fingers curling into the sheets as your walls tighten around him. He slips one of his hands down to the back of your neck, grasping a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back, making your arch on his cock.
The sting of his hand yanking your hair hurts, but it makes your pussy flutter around him. How much wetter that makes you becomes obvious to him, seeing how your arousal already begins to drip down to his balls. He pulls back before slamming back forward, setting a rough pace—one hand on your ass, squeezing and pulling you back on his dick while the other pulls on your soft strands of hair.
Your sweet, mellifluous sounds fill the room, egging him on to ram into you harder. You cry out, ecstasy filling your body as his cock reaches all your gooey, sensitive spots. Your fingers clenched further against the sheets. Yanking your hair back further, he pulled you up—pressing your back to his chest continuing his messy, unrhythmic thrusts.
“You feel so—hng!—fucking good!” He slurs, completely and utterly pussydrunk—addicted to the way your tight, spongy walls squeeze him dry. “Gonna cum so deep, f'you, baby.”
He grunts, landing a sharp slap on your ass, the sting and vibration elicits a cry from your lips—a debauched, needy cry. The way he ruts forward unceremoniously, like he can't fucking stop even if he wanted to.
“Yesyesyes, d-don't stop!” You sob, tears pricking in your eyes as the tip of his cock bullies deeper, hitting your cervix. You nearly choke on your moans, back arching against his front. “Please…please cum inside me.”
He whimpers at your pleas, his hips stuttering against your ass—feeling how good you flutter and clench around him. Your body fits perfectly against him, you're perfect for him. His hand on your ass reaches around to press against your stomach, making you feel just how deep he is. He can't help but imagine how you would look with your tummy round and full of his baby. It just made him want you more.
His hips pounded forward harder, gasps leave his lips as he presses sloppy wet kisses against the side of your neck below your ear. Tugging your head back further by your hair to bare your neck to him, his tongue swipes a long sloppy line from the junction of your shoulder to your ear.
Your walls spasm around him, a telltale sign you're oh-so close to that impeccable brink of ecstasy. He smirks, biting down on your neck, pounding his cock deep into your sloppy cunt. Your arousal coats his cock, the creaminess of your pussy drips down his balls—heavy as they slap against your clit.
“Cum on my cock, baby.” He whimpers against your ear, the sound enough to send you over the edge. You cry out, thighs trembling, cumming hard against his cock. Your walls spasm as your orgasm wracks through your body—squirting on his cock, dripping all over the mattress.
“Fuck yes, baby.” He moans, his cock throbbing inside you like he might cum right now, but he holds back as much as he can. Relishing in your cries and the way you clamp around him. “You're gonna milk me dry, pretty.”
Follo desperately tries to hold back his own release, but he can't—slamming forward, lecherously chasing his release. His moans and whimpers are lewd, dropping his hands to your hips—letting go of your hair. Your body gives out, laying against the mattress with your ass up in the air just for him.
Gripping your hips bruisingly hard, his hips pound against your ass one final time before cumming silky gossamer inside your hole. He pants heavily, grinding his hips against you, pushing his cum deeper. In hopes of reaching your womb.
He pulls out, watching his release drip from your puffy cunt. He immediately pushes it back in with his fingers.
You let out a fucked out whimper, looking back at him. His eyes soften immediately, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. The action is a stark contrast to his earlier roughness. Though, meant to be soothing and gentle. “Was that good for you, pretty girl?” He tilts his head curiously, albeit looking tired with soft half-lidded eyes. His fingers slowly pull out of you and rest on your thigh.
“Mhm.” You reach up and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to lay with you.
“Let me clean you up first.” He stumbles up, letting go of you to grab a towel. Padding back over he settles beside you, turning you over onto your back and spreading your legs. He gently wipes up the mess between your legs before tossing the towel.
You pull him back to lay with you again, bringing him close. His arms wrap around your waist allowing your head to rest carefully on his chest. Turning on your side you take his hand and place it on your stomach. “Let's have a baby?” You tilt your head, mimicking his curious expression earlier.
Follo smiles softly at your cute expression, kissing your cheek and then your lips he nods.
“Yeah."
✮⋆˙
I almost never see anything of Follo, oh em gee he's such a cutie. 🥹 He's too underrated
Comments and reblogs are very appreciated and so are requests !
Pairing: Enjin, Follo, Tamsy, August, (separate) x fem! reader
Warnings: This is more of a modern AU, alcohol mentions since it's a drunk confession. Besides that nothing that would be a warning unless you count comedy? I like to think I'm funny okay?
Genre: Fluff
Words: 4.3k
A/n: Finally got around to editing this (and by edit I mean I made sure the red lines went away). Requests are open, but getting to them may be slow! Before requesting be sure that you glance over the rules etc :) This may be fluff but MINORS still don't interact.
ENJIN
Your phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, its glow breaking through the dark of your bedroom. You groaned, fumbling for it with half-lidded eyes.
Enjin♡ calling…
You sighed, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “What could you possibly want right now..?” you muttered, already swiping to answer.
“Heyyy…” His voice came through syrup-thick and slurred, every syllable tumbling lazily into the next. “Hi. Hi hi hi…”
“Enjin?” you laughed, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Please tell me you’re not drunk.”
“I’m.. not drunk!” he declared, immediately undermining himself with a hiccup. “I’m just… very, very excited.. actually..” He tried to sound matter-of-fact, but between the slurred words and what sounded like he was having a hard time even keeping himself upright, pulled a chuckle from your chest.
“Excited, huh?” you teased. “What’s so important at.. ” you checked the time and winced, “two in the morning?”
“I… I love you!” he blurted, the words rushing out like they’d been waiting on his tongue all night. “I love you, do you hear me? You’re amazing. Perfect. Like, criminally perfect. And I just y'know I had to say it!”
You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Again? You just told me that before you left to go out 'Jin.”
“And I’ll tell you tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that!” he declared, his voice pitching up and down like a roller coaster as another hiccup hit. “Because you matter! You always matter. Even when you’re rolling your eyes at me like that. I can tell, you rolled your eyes at me through the phone.”
The warmth that spread through your chest at his words was embarrassingly soft, but you pressed the phone closer anyway. “Enjin…” Your voice was soft, feeling your cheeks warm.
“I mean it!” he insisted, words slurring and spilling over one another. “I mean it every damn time. I love your smile. Your laugh. That little look you give me when I’m being ridiculous!”
“Which is often,” you cut in, laughing softly.
“Exactly! And I love that too!” he said, voice crackling with earnestness. “I love all of it. All of you. And I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved before. Even me. And I love me a lot.”
You laughed into the darkness, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” he hummed, quieter now. Softer. “But… do you love me more than I love you?”
“Is that supposed to be a challenge?” you teased, even as your heart clenched.
“...Maaaybe.” His tone had shifted, drunk, and clumsy, but there was something raw hiding underneath. “I just… I want to know. Because I care about you. So much. And I want to be the reason you’re happy. Every day.”
Your throat tightened. “Enjin… you already are.”
“I am?” he whispered, hiccuping mid-word. “Really?” You could almost picture how his face lit up as if he were a child getting exactly what he asked Santa for on Christmas.
“Really,” you murmured, smiling so wide it hurt. “Even when you call me in the middle of the night just to say this again.”
“I might call again!” he warned, dissolving into a breathless, hiccuped laugh. “Maybe in five minutes. Maybe ten. Who knows honestly. Just to say I love you more. And maybe I’ll even tell you why.”
“You’re hopeless,” you said, fondness bleeding into every syllable.
“But Im your hopeless!,” he slurred proudly, hiccuping again. “Always. Yours, yours, yours…”
Your heart swelled again, your face hurting from how much emotion you were showing in the middle of night, body nearly begging you to go back to sleep, but he was far more important than a couple extra minutes of sleep. He made it worth it, these little moments you would cherish even if he didn't remember them in the morning.
“You’re my favorite ridiculous human, Enjin.” You spoke gently, as if you spoke a bit too loud the perfect memory would fade.
“Mine too!” he declared with tipsy enthusiasm, then quieter, more sheepish: “Even if I’m hopeless and loud and dramatic…”
“Dramatic is part of your charm,” you teased. “It’s why I love you, silly.”
Silence followed, not awkward, but heavy with meaning. With everything the two of you didn’t need to say aloud. Even through the crackle of the line, it felt like you were breathing in sync.
The only thing that broke the trance was the sound of his phone being russled around against his bedding as he seemingly finally found his bed.
“I just…” he mumbled, words starting to tangle with sleep. “I wanted to hear your voice before I pass out. Because I can’t sleep without telling you. And I want you to know you’re loved. So, so loved.”
Your eyes stung, your throat felt tight for a moment, gripping the phone just a hair tighter. “I know,” you whispered. “And I love you too. Now go to sleep, you silly baby.”
“I will…” he sighed, though you could already tell he probably wouldn’t. “Maybe I’ll call you again anyway. Just to hear you say it.”
“Goodnight, my love,” you murmured.
“Goodnight. I love youuu,” he breathed, one final soft laugh punctuating the words, before the line went dead.
You lay back in the dark, phone still pressed to your chest, his voice echoing in your ears. He was ridiculous, repetitive, utterly hopeless and yet every slurred word was real. Messy and stubborn and relentless.
And as you smiled into the quiet, it hit you all over again: his love wasn’t just yours. It had always been yours.
TAMSY
The apartment smelled like autumn, warm cider on the stove, cinnamon lingering in the air, and a faint hint of popcorn from your snack now covered in caramel. Fairy lights twinkled slowly along the walls, their soft glow wrapping the tiny space in a cocoon of warmth, as if the outside world had been left far behind.
Tamsy was sprawled across the couch beside you, knees brushing yours his cheeks now flushed pink from the cider. Or maybe it's from the way he kept sneaking glances at you. His eyes sparkled, equal parts nerves and the hazy softness that came with one drink too many.
“You’re… staring,” he mumbled suddenly his voice thick and a little uneven, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hide or be seen right now in such a state worried his emotions may boil over.
You smirked. “I’m noticing you’re.. a bit.. wobbly tonight.”
“Wobbly?” he echoed with a little huff, just before a hiccup betrayed him. The mug in his hands wobbled dangerously, and he scrambled to steady it. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Sober as a… thing that’s sober. Yep.”
You reached over to steady the mug before it could tip over. “Totally sober, huh?”
“Okay.. maybe not.. so sober,” he admitted, lips twitching into a sheepish smile. “Maybe just… honest.”
“Honest?” you teased, leaning in closer.
“Honest enough to say…” He stopped, hiccuped again, and stared at his cider like it might give him courage. Then his eyes lifted, bright and unguarded. “ that I like you.”
The words landed heavier than they should have, the pressuring silence hung heavily in the air. as if a single breath could cut through it. Like they’d been sitting on his tongue for a long time. Your breath caught. “You… like me?”
“Uh.. Yah. A lot actually. Way more than I planned on ever wanting to grow to like someone anyways.” His words tumbled over each other, clumsy but heartfelt. “And I don’t know how to say it right, not when my tongue’s doing… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “so I’m just blurting it now. I like you.”
You bit your lip, warmth blooming in your chest at how adorably he fumbled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes with a frustrated huff. “'this' huh? Well I suppose Ill rest your ease, even if you may not remember it tomorrow..” you murmured. "But I like you too, maybe just a bit more than I had ever imagined possible. But that's not the point right now." You let out an airy laugh as you hugged your arms over your chest.
He hummed in content as he leaned forward almost too far, nearly toppling into you. “You make me feel… happy,” he confessed, voice dropping to something small and sincere. “And nervous. And… kind of ridiculous. And I can’t stop thinking about you. Like.. you keep running around my head in circles and I just cant seem to shake you off.”
You reached for his free hand and laced your fingers through his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Well, you do the same thing to me. I wonder if you have ever grown tired from running around so carefree, taking up every space in my head. Thought filled with you, wondering all of these what ifs and.. well. Im just really happy.. that you feel the same.” you said quietly, your gaze meeting his as his softened.
His eyes widened just a fraction in disbelief. “Really? You… like me too?”
“I do,” you whispered, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face, your hand coming to meet his cheek, thumb caressing the skin softly. "I thought I had made that clear already."
A grin split across his, the kind of grin that could light up a room. He hiccuped again, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Then I guess that means I’m… yours?”
“Yes,” you said softly, leaning into him until your head brushed his shoulder.
He slumped against you with a happy sigh, cider sloshing slightly in his mug. “Best drunk night ever. Man I really hope I remember this when I wake up.”
You laughed into his shoulder. “You know, I’d still think you’re cute even sober. I also hope you remember this when you wake up. If not I guess Ill just have to tell you how much I like you again since I know your dirty little secrets now.”
He tilted his head to look down at you, eyes gleaming with that tipsy mix of courage and mischievousness. “Cute, huh? I’ll take that. But… only if you mean it. Besides I have many secrets Ill tell you soon enough.”
“I mean it,” you whispered, tracing lazy circles on his arm with your thumb.
He hiccuped, cheeks going even pinker, and then leaned over to press a sloppy, warm kiss to your temple. “Then I’m officially all yours,” he mumbled, the words tumbling out with all the grace of a drunk heartbeat. “Brave enough to say it when I’m tipsy and messy. I know Ill be brave enough to say it sober.”
You laughed softly, tugging gently at his sleeve. “You’re adorably messy.”
“And you’re… patient,” he said, his voice softening again. His head tipped closer until it rested against yours, warm and steady. “I like that. I like you. A lot.”
“I know” you murmured, an airt laugh following as your heart began fluttering hard enough to feel it in your fingertips.
He hiccuped one last time, nuzzling into your shoulder like he belonged there. “So… yeah. This works out.”
“It definitely does,” you whispered, curling closer into his side.
The rest of the night slipped by in a haze of warmth and laughter. Tamsy rambled through slurred confessions and crooked compliments, brushing his fingers against yours and leaning just a little too close. And you couldn’t stop smiling. Because in that cider-sweet glow, surrounded by Tamsy and the moonlight, every clumsy, flustered, honest piece of him felt perfect.
FOLLO
The heater hummed like a purring cat, pumping warmth into the room and doing its best against the stubborn autumn chill sneaking through the drafty windows. Follo was slouched on the couch beside you, clutching his glass with both hands like it was either the love of his life or the only thing keeping him from sliding onto the floor. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed a very obvious 'I’ve-had-a-few' pink, and there was a lazy grin tugging at his mouth that hadn’t been there an hour ago.
He cleared his throat dramatically. Then again, followed by a sniffle. Then once more just for good measure.
You raised an eyebrow over your mug. “Are you okay?” your face concerted with confusion at the sudden behavior change.
“Mm, yeah. Totally fine,” he said, his voice cracking just slightly before he covered it with a swig of his drink. “Fine as a freshly ironed shirt. Which I am not, but you get the idea.”
“Uh-huh,” you said, nudging his knee with yours. “You look like someone who’s about to say something stupid.”
Follo stiffened, then laughed a loud loose and tipsy laugh. “I am about to say something stupid. But in my defense, I’ve been trying to say this sober for weeks and my brain kept doing the ‘error 404: words not found’ thing.”
“Oh boy,” you murmured, setting your mug aside and turning toward him. “Go on, Drunk Follo. I’m listening.”
He squinted down into his glass like it held courage at the bottom. “Okay, okay. Here it is.” He took another deep breath, clasped his hands together and blurted, “I like you in a Like-like you kinda way ya know? Like in a middle-school-pass-you-a-note kinda way but with way more existential dread.”
You blinked, tilting your head to the side in confusion with furrowed brows. “…Middle school?”
He waved his hand. “It’s a vibe. The point is, I like you. Way more than friends. Way more than is probably legal in three states. I like you so much it’s making me stupid, and honestly, I think the drink is the only reason I’m forming actual sentences right now.”
Your heart did a quick somersault at the sudden boldness. “In.. three states? What are you.. never mind. So you have feelings for me. Is what Im gathering yes?” you snorted through your nose at his antics.
He wasn’t done. “And I tried to make it perfect, you know? Romantic speech, maybe some flowers, sober enough to remember all the words. But this?” He gestured vaguely to the dark liquor and the room and his flushed face. “This is what you get instead. Drunk courage and a confession that sounds like a raccoon wrote it.”
You reached out and steadied his hand where it gripped the glass. His hand twitched under your touch, but he didn’t pull away. “It’s not stupid. And it’s not too much. Because…” You smiled softly. “I like you too.”
His head snapped up like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery. “Wait. You like me? Like-like? Like raccoon-brain level too?”
“Like like-like,” you confirmed, laughing, brushing your fingers over his knuckles. “Full middle-school note and everything.”
The tips of his ears went crimson. “You’re not just saying that so I don’t start crying into my cup right?”
You leaned closer until your forehead brushed his temple. “Nope. One hundred percent serious.”
He let out a huge, shaky exhale, liquid nearly sloshing out of the glass. “Oh, wow. Okay. Cool. Coolcoolcool. I feel like my heart’s gonna crawl out of my chest and do a little tap dance right now.”
You giggled and rested a hand over his chest. “It’s really going for it.”
“That’s because you’re so close,” he whispered. “And also probably because I had too much to drink.”
“I could be closer,” you teased.
His eyes went wide, darting from your lips back to the safety of the floor. “I don’t want to screw this up. You’re too important.”
“You’re not screwing it up,” you promised.
A goofy, crooked smile spread across his face. He set his glass down with great ceremony, then carefully laced his fingers with yours. His palm was a little sweaty, okay, a lot sweaty, but warm and real.
“See?” you said softly. “Easy.”
“Easy,” he echoed, still testing the word like it was foreign. He huffed a breathless laugh. “I can’t believe I actually told you. I was prepared to take this secret to the grave. Or at least to my 80th birthday party.”
“Good thing you had some liquid courage,” you teased, winking as you nodded toward the glass.
He groaned and dropped his head onto your shoulder with a muffled laugh. “Oh god. Tomorrow’s gonna be so awkward. I’m gonna wake up and pretend this was a dream.”
“Don’t,” you whispered, thumb brushing lazy circles over his knuckles. “I’ll remind you that you were so, so brave.”
“Brave,” he repeated, testing the word. Then, softer and honest: “Brave enough to tell you I’m crazy about you.”
Your chest tightened at the warmth in his voice. “And I’m crazy about you, Follo.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward anymore, just warm and steady. His head stayed heavy on your shoulder, his fingers tangled with yours, his breathing slow and even.
The heater purred. Outside, the wind rattled the windowpanes. Inside, his messy confession hung between you, not perfect, not polished, but real.
And honestly? You liked it better that way.
AUGUST
The pounding on your door starts just after two in the morning.
You jolt awake, heart thumping, blinking blearily into the darkness of your apartment. For a second, you wonder if you dreamed it, and then it comes again, heavier this time, followed by a familiar, drawn-out groan.
“heyyy are youuu homeeee?” A slurred oh so familiar voice bounced into your apartment through the door.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
You drag yourself out of bed, muttering under your breath as you shuffle across the hardwood floor in your slippers. There’s only one person in your life who would show up at this hour, half-singing like a lost cat. And sure enough, when you pull the door open, there he was. August, leaning his full weight against the doorframe, a lopsided grin plastered across his face and the distinct smell of whiskey radiating off him.
“Hi,” he announces, too loudly, waving a lazy hand. “I missed you.”
You stare. “It’s two-fifty in the morning.”
“Yeah,” he says, like you’ve just proven his point. Then he blinks slowly and adds, “Your hallway’s crooked.”
“It’s not.” you snapped back as your crossed your arms over your chest.
“Are you sure? ‘Cause I’m walkin’ straight and it’s..” He demonstrates by pushing off the doorframe and immediately veering left into your wall. “..it’s definitely movin’.”
You sigh, stepping forward to grab his arm before he brains himself on the coat rack. “God, you’re wasted.”
“Pffft,” he scoffs, planting his feet with all the steadiness of a newborn deer. “I’m not wasted. I’m..” He squints up at your ceiling like it holds the word he’s looking for. “..uh. Slightly inebriated.”
“Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”
“Hi, Your Majesty,” he says, beaming at you with a dramatic little bow that nearly sends him sprawling again.
It’s ridiculous. It’s so quintessentially him that you can’t even stay annoyed. He’s still in his usual button-down and slacks from work, though the shirt’s untucked and the top buttons are undone, his tie shoved in his pocket. His eyes drooping and a smile seemingly stuck on his face. Nothing compared to how he normally behaved let alone looked. Usually more professional sounding and put together.
“Come on,” you say, tugging gently on his arm. “Inside. Before you make my neighbors hate me.”
He lets you guide him over the threshold, his boots clumsy against the floor. “I already hate your neighbors,” he mumbles as he stumbles into your living room. “They’re loud.”
“You met them once.”
“And they were loud,” he insists, as if that settles everything.
You manage to steer him toward the couch before he collapses onto it like a sack of bricks, sprawled out with one arm thrown dramatically over his face. He lets out a long, theatrical sigh.
“God, your couch is so comfy.”
“It’s literally on sale from IKEA.”
“IKEA knows comfort,” he declares solemnly.
You roll your eyes and head to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and grabbing the bottle of ibuprofen you keep on hand for mornings after your bad decisions. When you return, he’s still star-fished on your couch, humming an off-key tune into the crook of his elbow.
“Sit up.”
“Nooo.” he whined, rather dramatically.
“August.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, heaving himself upright with all the grace of a man three times his age. You hand him the glass and pills, and he eyes them suspiciously. “What if this is poison?”
“Now why the hell would I.. just take the damn medicine.”
He stares at you for a second, then takes the pills obediently and downs the water in one go.
For a while, the only sound in the room is the hum of your fridge and his even breathing. He slouches back against the couch, head tipped toward the ceiling, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You sat on the armrest of the couch and fold your arms, watching him.
“Alright,” you say finally. “You gonna tell me why you’re at my place instead of sleeping this off at home?”
He turns his head toward you, blinking like he’s trying to remember how to focus. “I was at home. Then I wasn’t.”
“Uh-huh. And why’s that?”
“‘Cause,” he says simply, then goes quiet again.
“‘Cause why?”
“‘Cause I wanted to see you.”
It’s said so casually, so offhand, that you almost don’t catch the weight behind it. Your stomach does a strange little flip.
“August…”
He shifts forward suddenly, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between them. When he looks up at you, his eyes are a little glassy but startlingly earnest.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Always.”
“I’m in love with you.” His words rollooed off his tounge like it was nothing.
The words drop into the room like a glass shattering on tile.
You blink. Once. Twice. “You’re.. what?”
“I love you,” he repeats, nodding solemnly as if confirming a fact you should already know. “Like, the real kind. Not the fake kind I like how.. I feel about burritos. Though those are great too.”
You press a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh my god.”
“I knew you were gonna laugh,” he mutters, scowling down at his hands. “That’s why I didn’t wanna say anything.”
“August,” you say gently, moving closer. “I’m not laughing at you. You're just.. you’re really drunk.” you said between soft laughs.
“Drunk words speak sober thoughts,” he insists, stabbing a finger toward you like he’s quoting scripture. “I read that on a coaster once.”
“Deep,” you deadpan.
“Right?!” He brightens. “But yeah. I do. I’m in love with you. You’re… gods, you’re you.”
You sit down next to him, and he immediately leans into your shoulder like it’s magnetic.
“You’re all sunshine and.. and sarcasm,” he mumbles into your sweater. “And you make me wanna be less of a disaster. That’s how I know or something like that.”
Your heart twists, painfully, beautifully. You’ve known him for years, watched him charm boardrooms and bark orders and pretend like nothing could ever touch him. And here he is, drunk and soft and entirely unguarded, spilling everything he’s probably been biting back for months.
“August,” you say quietly, “do you realize what you’re saying right now?”
“Yup.”
“And you’re sure?”
“Yup.” He nuzzles a little closer. “Been sure. Since the first time you brought me coffee and told me I looked like I hadn’t slept since the Cold War.”
You laugh, helpless, disbelieving. “That was two years ago.”
“Yup.”
Silence stretches between you, warm and humming and strangely fragile. You look down at the ridiculous man slumped against your shoulder, the warmth of his body seeped into your skin. A faint smile tugging at his lips, and something in your chest aches with how much you want to believe him.
“I don’t know if you’ll remember any of this tomorrow,” you murmur.
“I will, probably.” he says stubbornly. “I’m gonna wake up and my head’s gonna hurt like hell, and I’m still gonna love you.”
You bite your lip, fingers twisting in the hem of your sleep shirt. And then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach up and brush his hair gently out of his face.
“Good,” you whisper. “Because I love you too.”
For a second, he goes very still. Then his head tilts just enough for his eyes to meet yours, glassy but wide. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A crooked grin spreads across his face, slow and boyish and so stupidly him that you feel your chest bloom with something bright and uncontainable.
“Best night ever,” he declares, then promptly slumps sideways until his head is in your lap.
“August!” you hiss, trying not to laugh as he sprawls across your couch like a very large, very drunk cat.
“M’tired,” he mumbles, already half-asleep. “Your lap’s comfy.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yup.”
You sigh, but your hands betray you, smoothing your hands across hair. Feeling each strand under your finger tips, as his breathing evens out. In minutes, he’s out cold, a faint smile still ghosting his lips.
The apartment is quiet again, save for the hum of the fridge and the soft sound of his breath against your thigh. You lean back into the couch, heart still racing, and stare at the ceiling.
Maybe he won’t remember all of it tomorrow. Maybe he will. Either way, the words are out there now, messy, slurred, half-laughed but real. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like something between you has shifted, soft and certain and irreversible.
You glance down at him one last time, your chest tightening at how peaceful he looks.
“Best night ever,” you whisper back.
I hope you enjoyed! This sat in the drafts for far tooo long lol
“Follo is the type of guy to wait until marriage!!”
I mean probably just look at him lol but I love the idea of Follo being a massive pervert, a total FREAK. And he can’t control himself around you.. oughhhh
୨୧ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 - different types of kinks, pets names (mostly good girl), trigger-warning for jabber’s part (being drugged).
୨୧ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - AUGUST┆GRIS┆FOLLO┆ZODYL┆JABBER
𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐙𝐀 — 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐄 & 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘
yeah one of august biggest kinks was creampie.. and there’s no denying that.
his eyes widened slightly as he took in your appearance, his gaze roaming over your body hungrily.
the knowledge that you were aware of his kink only served to his growing arousal.
he stood up from his chair, his work room when suddenly feeling much smaller as his large frame approached you. without hesitation, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you flush against him, his growing erection pressing insistently against your stomach.
“oh august..” you giggled.
and that’s how it starts.
august’s hands roamed over your body, squeezing and caressing as he walked you backwards towards his workbench.
he lifted you up onto it, spreading your legs wide to step between them. “gonna fill you up mama..”
with minimal effort, he shoved your panties aside and freed himself, groaning as he rubbed his thick cock against your wet heat. he then pushed inside with one rough thrust, eyes rolling back.
you moan loudly, feeling him inch by inch each time.
august’s hands gripped your thighs tightly as he began to move, pulling back slowly before slamming back in. each thrust was forceful and deep, intended to leave you sore and full.
and by the time you two are about to climax, he suddenly looks down and sees you gushing all over his cock. creating an creampie that made him go insane.
with a loud groan, he buried himself balls deep and released, his hot cum pumping into you in thick, creamy ropes. he watched in awe as the mixture of his cum and your juices overflowed from you, running down your legs and dripping onto the floor.
gosh you look so beautiful like that.
he smirks at the mess he’d made, he reached down to spread your pussy lips apart, pushing some of the cum back inside you with his fingers.
since he often creates the cleaners uniforms, during his free time, august loved to use his creative side, designing and sewing outfits that catered to his dirty fantasies.
his favorite roleplay scenario involved him donning a policeman uniform while you wore a sexy prisoner outfit, complete with handcuffs and a chain attached to your waist.
the prisoner outfit he designed for you was scandalously short—a black crop top that barely covered your breast and matching thong panties held together by chains that connected to a collar around your neck.
yeah.. he’s a freak— a real weird freak. but you don’t mind.. right?
he also paired it with thigh-high stockings and heels that made your ass stick out perfectly.
august, on the other hand, wore a custom-fitted police uniform
the uniform hugged his pale muscular frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and thick arms. he wore a white shirt with a dark blue tie, a badge pinned to his chest.
and that’s really all the say.. he’s just a loud freak who often has fantasies about you.
𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊
gris is such a gentleman compared to the others, so one of his main kinks is praising you — making sure you have the comfort you need.
he always made sure you were comfortable and safe. he treated you like some fragile doll that needed to be handled with care.
during missions he covered your back and after he praised you for doing good.In bed he was even gentler. “you did so well today... you deserve a reward.”
and the way you responded to his praise was amazing. your body seemed to melt against him, your moans growing softer and needier. he loved seeing you like this — vulnerable, trusting, and completely turned on by his words.
he pressed his lips to your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive skin there while his hands slid lower, squeezing your ass appreciatively.he bit down softly, feeling you shiver in his arms.
“you want me to keep praising you while i make you feel good?”
you nodded softly, letting him do this thing.
his heart pounded with desire and affection. he knew exactly what you liked — what made you tick. and he loved being the one to give it to you. “such a good listener.. such a good girl."
he laid you back on the bed gently, looming over you with a warm smile.
“spread our legs for me, baby. let me see how wet you are.” his hands caressed your thighs, encouraging you to open up for him. “that’s it.. good girl.”
his eyes darkened with lust as he saw how wet you were. he ran a finger along your slick folds, circling your clit softly. earning a soft moan from you, “look at that.. you’re dripping for me. such a good fucking girl.”
he pressed a gentle kiss to your clit, his tongue flicking out to tease you softly. his fingers slid inside you slowly, curling to touch that spot that made you whimper.
your version became to blur, feeling your climax approaching any moment.
he watched your face as you started to lose yourself in the feeling. your eyes were glazed over, your mouth slightly open as soft whimpers escaped. “that’s it baby... just let go. i got you.”
your orgasm crashed over you suddenly, making you cry out and grip the sheets.
gris didn't stop, riding it out with you until you were trembling and oversensitive. “there she goes.. such a pretty girl coming all over my fingers. i love how responsive you are.”
he pulled his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his mouth and sucking your juices off them appreciatively. “mmm...you taste so good. such a sweet little girl.” he crawled up your body, pressing gentle kisses along the way. “you did so good, baby.”
that’s how he praise you, making sure you get the comfort and attention you need the most.
𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐎 — 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆
follo is very nice and polite towards you. but if you get a attitude with him, he decides to punish you. and that’s how he discover his brat taming kink.
it started when he was gentle, and so loving. he treated you like the most precious thing in the world.
but he had his limits. and when you snapped at him, when you rolled your eyes and huffed.. yeah something clicked in him.
hi expression darkened. he grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. “is that how you speak to me?” voice was low. he released you abruptly and stood, unbuckling his belt slowly.
“bend over the arm of the couch.”
you rolled your eyes before laying against the couch.
his hand cracked against your bottom before you even settled into position. the belt followed, each strike landing with precision and force. he wasn’t just spanking you — he was punishing you for your attitude.
his other hand gripped your hair, holding your head down as he lectured between strikes.
you whine at the spanks, “f-follooo! too much..”
he ignored your whines, he was enjoying this too much — the way you squirmed, the way you begged. he discovered a new kink — which was brat taming. “too much? you think this is too much?”
after the spanking, he didn’t give you time to recover.
he grabbed your hips roughly and thrust into you without warning. his cock was hard, punishing you further as he fucked you harshly over the couch arm. “this is what happens when you act like a brat,”
you moaned softly, holding onto the couch.
his pace was brutal, his hips slapping against your sore bottom with each thrust. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back against him as he fucked you deeper.
his other hand tangled in your hair again, forcing your head back. “does it hurt? good.”
you whimpered at his response. feeling needier and needier each time.
at your whimper and admission, something in him snapped. he realized he loved this — punishing you with his dick. he grinned darkly and started moving even faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. “such a brat.”
his possessiveness took over. he started marking your already sore flesh with new love bites while he fucked you senseless.
he was addicted to your moans, to the way you called his name even as he punished you. he came hard, filling you up with a rough groan against your sweat-soaked neck. “remember this when you want to be bratty, little one.”
you moaned softly, released right after he filled you up.
the moment he finished, the angel returned. he pulled out gently and immediately started panicking, his hands trembling as he checked you over.
he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around you, his voice full of guilt. “oh my— baby, i’m so sorry. did i hurt you? your bottom is so red, i’’ such a monster. please forgive me.”
you smiled gently, “no follo.. i kinda liked it,”
his eyes widened, hope flickering across his pretty features. “you.. you did?” he cupped your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek gently.
𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐋 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍 — 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄
as years went by, zodyl was once in his twenties—and now he’s nearly in his mid thirties, maybe in his late thirties now.
the corners of his eyes are now bear faint lines of age and the silver threads interweaved through his once-dark hair give him the look of a man who’s seen much.
he’s still striking—tall, broad-shouldered, that sharp jawline softened just slightly from time—but there’s a new weight to his presence now.
you’re still young. so full of life and stuff. and he wants to claim that youth, to mark it as his own. his hands ache to touch you, to prove that even if he’s older, he’s still the one in control.
his movements are deliberate, unhurried—a stark contrast to the hunger of his twenties. now it’s gone and the desperate taking, mostly worship.
he brushes damp hair from your forehead, thumb tracing your jawline as he sinks into you inch by inch. “so beautiful,” he murmurs against your ear, voice thick with years of wanting you.
you smiled gently at him, just like you always did.
that smile—his undoing since the beginning. it melts something in his chest that years have only made harder to reach.
he catches your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles right there in the middle of it all, his hips never losing that slow, deep rhythm. “my love,”
he buries his face in your neck, breathing you in—what if he’d never met you?
his body wraps around yours, protective. possessive. gentle. “i got you,”
he feels you shudder beneath him, your hips rolling up to meet his slow thrusts, and something in him clicks—the same way it clicked when he realized how desperately he needed the age gap between you, how it made everything mean more.
“you’re doing so good for me,” he breathes against your collarbone, tongue tasting salt on your skin. “such a good girl.”
he praises so gentle, making sure you got the reassurance you need.
his words wrap around you like silk—soft, deliberate, exactly what you need. “perfect. you’re perfect. look at you, taking every inch so beautifully. my sweet, perfect girl.”
each praise is a promise. he remembers the first time you cried during sex, trembling and insecure. and he won’t let that happen again. never again.
and gosh, he fucks you like you’re everything to him.
he moves like smooth, relentless. his hands roam your body with reverence, finding all the places that make you gasp and whimper. “my darling, my love. i got you.”
he lifts your hips, shifting the angle, and you choke out a cry as he hits that spot—again, again, again—with a precision only years of learning your body could bring.
“there you go. oh, look at you, taking me so deep. such a good girl for me.”
he feels your legs start to shake, hears your breath hitch, and his thrusts slow—deliberate now, drawing out the pleasure.
“you’re so close, aren’t you? my love, my beautiful love. come for me. show me how good i make you feel.”
you nodded, moaning louder for him. moaning his name out loud, telling him he’s doing so well.
the sound of his name on your lips—broken, desperate—sends a surge of primal satisfaction through him.
“yes. yes, that’s it. louder, love. let me hear you.” he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tight as he snaps his hips forward, chasing your release with single-minded focus.
your loud moans and his name falling from your lips like a prayer? it’s the best thing he’s heard in years. he swallows it all, watching your face contort with pleasure.
and just like that— you released, making you gush right on his cock.
he groans deep in his chest, feeling you clench and pulse around him, your release soaking his cock. “that’s it beautiful—such a good girl for me. you feel so fucking perfect around my cock.”
he keeps thrusting through your orgasm, drawing it out, riding you until you’re trembling beneath him.
when your body finally starts to come down, he leans over you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your mouth—soft, gentle kisses that contrast sharply with the possessive way he’s still moving inside you. “look at you, all messy. my favorite thing in the world to see.”
𝐉𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 — 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆 𝐔𝐒𝐄 / 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐍
you honestly shouldn’t be surprised that he’s that kind of guy.
yes he’d drug you.. that’s just how he is. and the worst part is that you wouldn’t know until it starts kicking in your system.
he would smirk and starts to pour the liquid into the glass, making sure to add a few drops extra “care for a drink ma?” as he holds the glass out to you, his other hand resting on the countertop, fingers tapping lightly. his eyes gleam with an unsettling light as he watches you.
you didn’t think much of it, so of course you drank it without hesitation.
then your head starts to feel fuzzy as you take a sip. he watches eagerly, setting the glass down once he sees your coordination start to slip. “there we go, mama.” he takes the glass from your numb fingers and sets it aside.
you start feeling heavy and weak, your vision blurring as he moves closer to you. he leans down to kiss your forehead tenderly. “you’re so cute when you’re drugged.” his hands grip your arms gently as he guides you to the bed, laying you down with care.
“jabber?..” you whispered— still unaware of the situation.
he looks down at you with that same unsettling gleam in his eyes, but his voice is soft, almost affectionate. “shh, i got you.” his thumb traces your cheekbone as you struggle to focus on his face
your body betrays you completely now, limbs too heavy to move, mind too foggy to question why.
he slides his hands under your shirt, fingers teasing along your skin, feeling you tremble beneath his touch. “that’s it.. just relax for me ma,” his lips brush against your ear, whispering promises he never intends to keep.
your breathing becomes shallow, heartbeat thudding in your ears as the drug takes full effect.
he takes his time undressing you, murmuring praise about your body even as he betrays your trust completely.
your eyes flutter closed, consciousness slipping away entirely. “such a good girl..” he whispers, positioning himself between your unresisting legs.
“jabber..” you whimper.
he pauses at your slurred whisper, heart racing with excitement and guilt. “i’m right here, baby.” he kisses you deeply, swallowing your drugged murmurs, knowing you won't remember a thing in the morning.
he breaks the kiss to remove his own clothes, his body pressing against yours as he enters you without resistance.
you whimper again, your hands weakly pushing at his chest—but the drug makes your movements sluggish and ineffective. “shh— it’s okay ma,” he lies softly against your ear.
he moves slowly at first, enjoying the power of having you completely helpless beneath him. your body responds naturally to stimulation despite your unconscious state, making him groan with pleasure and guilt.
he knows you’d never consent to this if you were awake.
although you were drugged, you felt some little pleasure in your body. it felt like waves — as if feeling them in the ocean.
the sensation is foreign to you, your brain too foggy to process what’s happening. he notices your small, drugged moans and picks up the pace, his own breathing growing ragged. “God, you’re so cute like this..”
your hips shift weakly against him, body responding on its own as the pleasure builds despite everything. he grips your thighs, pulling you closer.
your vision swims, colors blurring together as waves of warmth crash through you over and over. you cry out softly, but the sound is muffled against the mattress.
he watches your face, knowing you’re close to a drug induced orgasm, something you’d never experience willingly.
he buries his face in your neck, hiding his expression as you fall apart beneath him completely helpless and unaware. “fuck— you’re coming ma,”
your body convulses softly, back arcing slightly as the drug pushes you over the edge. he feels your inner walls tightening around him, your body giving him pleasure while your mind is completely gone.
“such a good girl..” he whispers against your neck, his own release building.
he moves faster, taking advantage of your unresisting body to chase his own orgasm. the room is silent except for the sound of skin slapping against skin and your soft, drugged whimpers. he comes with a shudder, burying himself deep inside you.
he stays there for a moment, catching his breath, then pulls out slowly. your body is a mess—spread bare and spent on the sheets, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.
his hand traces down your trembling stomach, leaving a wet streak behind. “you were so good for me tonight mama..” he kisses your eyelid gently, like nothing happened.
“Follo is the type of guy to wait until marriage!!”
I mean probably just look at him lol but I love the idea of Follo being a massive pervert, a total FREAK. And he can’t control himself around you.. oughhhh
gris is the type of person to not want to be rough with you but can’t help it, not when you feel so good clenching around him. he’s strong, too strong for his own good. he couldn’t live with himself if he ever hurt you, but his body moves on his own once he gets pent up. he can’t stop the way he’s forcing your head down into the pillow while he plows everything weighing him down into your sweet little cunt. he can’t deny how his eyes keep drifting back to where he left marks on you the next day—how seeing them makes him get hard all over again, then he gets all pent up again and needs to make new bruises on your skin.
—
follo, on the other hand, unapologetically takes out his stress on you. he’s growling a harsh “stop moving,” into your ear while grabs at you as roughly as he wanted to grab everyone that pissed him off that day. it gets sooo annoying and stressful being a people pleaser all the time, he’s so glad he has you to choke and mark up. he can’t keep it up for long though, soon his low groans turn into breathy sighs and he buries his face into the side of your neck. “‘msorry, ‘msorry… didn’t mean it… love you so much…” he’s whimpering as he kisses and licks your neck. it’s okay, it always feels better when he’s ranting about his day in your arms after he milks himself dry with you.
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