Forgettable & Forgetful

He decided he had to avoid you. It was the only way to stop these confusing feelings from intensifying. It had become worse lately; just last night, he had a vivid dream about sucking your breasts as you praised him.

Iwaizumi's eyes involuntarily squeezed shut, as he tried to suppress the embarrassing memories that flooded his mind. But before he could regain his composure, your voice pierced through the haze, "You alright, Hajime? Here, take this." He snapped his eyes open, catching sight of you sitting across from him, munching on a protein bar and offering him one. The sight of you, so calm and collected, only made him feel more flustered. His cheeks grew hot as he struggled to maintain his usual stoic demeanor.

“O-oh, uh, thanks. Just a little tired, that’s all,” he mumbled, trying to downplay his awkwardness. He took the protein bar, his hands fumbling with the wrapper as he attempted to appear nonchalant. Inside, he was mortified. Why did you have to approach him now, of all times? He felt like such an idiot. Seeing him all alone like that would surely draw your attention to him.

“Stay up too late partying? Let me guess, Toru has a hangover and skipped,” you mused aloud with a small eye roll at the setter’s dramatics, taking another bite of your snack.

Hajime smiled, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I told that dumbass he shouldn’t be taking so many shots, but he doesn’t listen when he’s drunk,” he said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation as he tried to maintain a composed demeanor.

Hajime's face fell as you let out a giggle at his remark, his embarrassment evident as his face flushed. "When does he listen to you, though?" you teased, a playful smile spreading across your lips.

Hajime's hand rose to his hair, his fingers raking through the strands in a nervous gesture. "Sometimes I feel like all I do is yell at him," he said, his voice laced with frustration as he reflected on his tumultuous history with Oikawa.

You couldn't help but indulge in a sympathetic coo at his confession. "Sounds like you need a break, huh?" you suggested, your tone gentle and understanding. Hajime's eyes widened as he drew in a sharp breath, trying to stop the blood now rushing to his lower regions.

“W-what do you mean?” Hajime asked, his voice low and husky, his words barely above a whisper. You bit back a smile, trying to maintain a neutral expression as you gazed at him. His attempts to hide his emotions were laughable, his face a picture of confusion and embarrassment. You could read all the emotions he was feeling right now, and it made you lick your lips.

"Aren't you tired of always being the one in charge?" you asked, your voice soft and enticing. "I bet it would be nice to be pampered, hmm?" You spoke the words slowly, letting them hang in the air as you subtly shifted your position to brush your foot against his leg. The gentle touch sent a shiver through his body, and he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest as your ankle teased against his own.

"I-I mean, yeah. It would be nice, considering exams are approaching," Hajime replied, his tone cautious as he struggled to decipher the intentions behind your words. He wasn't sure if you were genuinely trying to be helpful, or if you were just being playful or even flirtatious. As a result, he decided to err on the side of caution and keep his response neutral, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read between the lines.

"What are you doing for the rest of the day?" you asked, your question innocuous enough, but your foot's subtle withdrawal from his leg sent a pang of disappointment through him.

"Well, my afternoon class got canceled since my professor is sick, so I don't have much to do," His voice trembled slightly as he asked the follow-up question, "W-why do you ask?" but he made a conscious effort to hide his emotions, not wanting to reveal the flutter in his chest that had accompanied his words.

"Hmmm, I don't have any more classes either," you said, a thought suddenly occurring to you as you looked at him. "Why don't you come back to my apartment? I don't think I've ever shown it to you," you suggested, a sense of surprise and awareness washing over you as you realized the truth - you'd never actually invited him over before.

"Wha—?" He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Sure," he said, adopting a polite tone to mask his surprise. "What time would be best for you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to gauge your intentions.

"Right now, silly!" you exclaimed, standing up and tugging him along by the hand. He let out a surprised gasp as he had no choice but to follow you, his eyes fixed on your retreating back.

"Don't worry, I'm only a five-minute walk from here," you teased, leading him out of the campus. You finally released his wrist, and he fell into step beside you, his pace relaxed.

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he gazed at you. "I wasn't worried," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh yeah. You probably run long distances for cardio conditioning, right?" you chattered as you two turned a corner on the sidewalk. "I hate running; I couldn't imagine," you added.

"It's not that bad, for me anyway," he replied carefully. Normally, he would have scoffed at someone who complained about a particular exercise, but with you, he found himself strangely indifferent. In fact, your aversion to running had suddenly made him less enthusiastic about it himself.

"Really?" you pondered. "I like mountain biking more; the views are so pretty," you said, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

The conversation flowed effortlessly between you two as you strolled through the bustling streets, the sounds of the city serving as a pleasant background hum. Before long, you led him to your apartment, and you began to prepare a soothing cup of tea. He sat nervously on the mat in front of the table, his eyes fixed on the surface as he awaited his next move.

The soft melody of your humming drifted from the kitchen, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He got up from his seat on the mat, his movements slow and deliberate, and made his way into the kitchen, where he found you busy preparing tea.

"You need any help with that?" he asked, standing in the doorway, his tall frame looming over you as you stood at the counter, his eyes meeting yours as you looked up.

You flashed him a warm smile, one that seemed to stir something deep within him. To his surprise, his legs felt like jelly, and he felt himself shrinking under the gentle warmth of your gaze. "Don't worry your pretty little head, I'm almost done anyway," you said, trying to play it off as a joke. A silly way to let him know you didn’t require his help. But as you looked up at him, you noticed his face had turned a bright, burning red.

He felt his face grow hotter by the second, his mind clouding over with a strange, fuzzy sensation. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he felt so helpless. He had no idea why he was suddenly so overwhelmed, but the feeling was suffocating him.

“Oh-hajime, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”you said, concern etched on your face. You thought he was upset, maybe he had an insecurity you didn’t know about. But as you set the pot down and approached him, he surprised you by wrapping his arms around you.

The hug was sudden, and it caught you off guard. "You don't know what you're doing to me," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. The words were meant to be strong and confident, but they emerged as a soft, anguished whisper.

Your hands instinctively settled onto his hips, and you paused for a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking. "You're right, I don't think I do," you said, a hint of curiosity in your tone. "Do you want to show me?" The words were barely out of your mouth when he began to whimper in your ear, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Please, can we go somewhere... more... more..." he trailed off, his words dissolving into a vulnerable silence. You could sense his raw emotion, and it seemed like he was searching for a way to express himself.

“My bedroom is right down here, sweetie,” you guided him towards your bedroom, leading him by the hand down the hallway. He clung to your hand nervously, his eyes fixed on the door ahead.

"Can I ask what's going on?" you asked, settling in beside him on the bed as he shifted his weight onto your lap. His larger frame was now enveloping you, his larger body practically in your lap.

"I-I don't know," he stammered, his voice trembling as he struggled to articulate his emotions. "It's just your voice is so... warm, and it makes my head spin," he admitted, his words faltering as he relived the intensity of the moment.

You chuckled softly, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sounds like you like being spoiled," you teased, leaning in closer to him. As you did, his nose was met with the sweet scent of your perfume, and his gaze was drawn to the plump, inviting curves of your lips. He couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest as he wondered what it would be like to taste them.

"Would you like to cuddle for a bit?" you asked, he nodded without hesitation and he instinctively nestled into the curve of your neck, his body sprawling across yours. Your head sank into the soft pillows as he settled in, his hands awkwardly adjusting the blanket.

“You comfy?” your voice was muffled by his hair, but he felt the gentle touch of your fingers tracing the contours of his back. He shivered in response, his voice barely audible as he murmured a grateful "yes, thank you" into your neck.

Your fingers wandered through the silky strands of his hair, tantalizingly teasing them with a gentle pull every now and then, just to coax out a plaintive whimper from his lips.

Before you knew it, you became aware of a subtle, yet unmistakable, presence against your leg. It was warm, hard, and throbbing with an unmistakable rhythm. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized that Hajime was now subtly moving his hips against your thigh, his body seemingly trying to find its own rhythm.

“Hajime?" you whispered, easing yourself up slightly on the pillow. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you were struck by the vivid flush spreading across his cheeks and the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Are you turned on right now?" you asked, your voice low and husky, as your hand wandered down to his hips, grazing the sensitive skin. Hajime's eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilating as he struggled to process the sudden intimacy. He couldn't meet your gaze, his face flushing with embarrassment as he stuttered out an apology.

"Y-you're just so... so pretty," he stammered, his words faltering as he attempted to put distance between you. He edged away, his body language screaming discomfort and embarrassment, as he tried to regain his composure.

You couldn't help but coo as you took in his flustered state. “Let me take care of you.” You purred gently, making him melt.

With a gentle yet firm grip, you guided him closer, until he was seated between your thighs, his back pressed against your chest.

“Relax” you commanded at his tense frame.

“Right-sorry.” He nodded, doing his best to stop his thighs from flexing when you touched him.

Your fingers danced across his lower abdomen, their slow and deliberate movements sending shivers of anticipation down his spine. As your palms brushed against his skin, his hips instinctively lifted, his body responding to the subtle touch with a primal urge.

"So sensitive," you whispered huskily into his ear, your hot breath sending a thrill through his body. Your fingers drifted down, delicately tracing the outline of his cock still confined by his pants, and he felt his pulse quicken in response.

“'m sorry," he whispered, his voice laced with desperation, as he reached out to grasp your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin as if trying to anchor himself against the impending storm.

"Don't be pretty boy, it's adorable, you're adorable." The words were a gentle taunt, making him let out a pitiful whine. You took advantage of his vulnerability, reaching out to gently grasp his chin and turn his face towards you. His eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of pleading and shame, as he struggled to process the softness of your words.

His eyes welled up with tears as he gazed at you, his breathing quickening as a sudden gasp escaped his lips. Your hand, like a gentle thief, slid around his waistband, pulling down the fabric that had been hiding his most intimate secrets from your gaze. The soft fabric slid down, revealing the red puffy cock to you. A lewd slapping sound was heard as his member sprang forth landing on his abdomen, vulnerable and exposed.

He pinched his eyes shut, his eyelids trembling as he desperately tried to block out the reality of the situation. He couldn't believe you were asking him to make eye contact with you as you performed that intimate and revealing act.

He became suddenly aware of a refreshing sensation trickling down his length. He looked to see you expertly applying a lubricant from a bottle, its smooth glide easing onto his twitching shaft. You whispered softly, "This will help," and he nodded in assent, his voice barely above a whisper as he murmured, "It's cold."

You softly cooed, taking a moment to slowly spread the lubricant along his red, swollen cock. His head arched back in a sensual moan as your fingers delicately brushed against his tip, sending shivers through his body.

"I-I think I'm going to come." he slurred, his hooded eyes straining against the pressure of your closed palm. However, the warmth was short-lived as you suddenly pulled your hand away from him, leaving him feeling momentarily deprived and frustrated.

Instead, he was left gasping for air, his cock angrily twitching in frustration. "I can't have you coming too soon," you said, your tone matter-of-fact. "Where's the fun in that?" Your hand returned to his cock, and he sat there, unable to muster a response, his head nodding dumbly in agreement.

You resumed your gentle strokes, and he let out a low groan as he buried his face into your neck. As your hand moved faster, his voice rose to a higher pitch, his pleasure growing more intense. His thighs began to tremble beneath your touch, and despite his efforts to resist, they involuntarily closed in on themselves, betraying his mounting arousal.

You let out a soft sigh, pausing your movements to gently coax his thighs apart once more. "Keep this up and I'll have to invest in a spreader bar," you teased, shaking your head in amusement. With a gentle smile, you resumed your task, your hand moving once more.

“I’m sorry, don’t mean too.” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of embarrassment. But the truth was, he secretly preferred the brief interruptions when you had to pause to re-spread his legs. The momentary respite gave him a chance to catch his breath and regain control. And if he wasn't careful, he risked losing himself entirely, on the cusp of a climax that threatened to overwhelm him.

His abs rippled and flexed as he writhed in your grasp, his body responding to your thumb teasing his tip that seemed to be endlessly leaking with pre cum. The sensation was too much to bear, and he let out a horse cry, his body instinctively jerking and clutching at your wrist as if seeking release from the mounting pleasure.

“fuck-fuck… fUCk. I can’t keep d-doing th-this.” he cursed under his breath. Your own body responded to his reactions, your stomach fluttering with anticipation as you watched him. The way his chest heaved with ragged breaths and the sounds he made sent shivers down your spine, leaving you aching with desire.

"I'm here to help you relax baby. You can come." you whispered softly, your voice gentle and reassuring. Your hands moved in a smooth, steady rhythm, as if guided by an unseen force. Your fingers danced across his skin, exploring every contour and curve. You couldn't resist the urge to experiment, and your fingertips grazed against the sensitive skin of his nipple, still hidden beneath his sweaty shirt.

As he let go, a torrent of white liquid burst forth from his head, splattering his shirt and leaving a visible mark. The cry that escaped his lips was a raw, high-pitched sound, filled with a mix of relief and release. The pent-up emotion seemed to pour out of him, like a dam breaking, as hot tears burned down his cheeks.

“sorry, I— I didn’t—“

“It’s fine,” stopping mid speech, your professor blinks his irritation away. “just find a seat, mr. itadori.”

“yes sir. sorry, sir.” he obliges, and then his eyes scan across the large lecture hall.

you’re now aware of the open seat next to you and you slouch down a little as if you could fuse into your own.

he climbs the stairs, one hand clasped onto the strap of his book bag that’s slung over a broad shoulder, feet skipping one step each time with ease until his sneakers stop in front of you.

“could-“ voice a little hoarse, he clears his throat. “could I sit here?”

you nod.

“bet, thanks.”

his book bag plops down first, then his body, rather unceremoniously at that, into the neighboring chair he’d pulled out for himself.

brief murmurs are spoken in the short intermission but die down once your professor clicks onto the next slide, everyone’s focus centering back onto the screen in front of them.

except yours.

your mechanical pencil strums restlessly between your thumb and pointer finger because you can feel his eyes glancing at your temple every few seconds and you’re just waiting for him to say something already.

and then he leans in, close enough to whisper, which he happens to be absolutely terrible at you might add.

“you have a pencil i could borrow?” he whisper yells.

“seriously?” you whisper back.

he looks to the side, then back at you. “uh… a pen is cool too, i guess, if that’s all you—“

“what do you even have in your backpack?” you hiss through clenched teeth.

“uhh,” he genuinely searches his bag as if your question wasn’t rhetorical. “a clif bar,” another side pocket is unzipped, and he grimaces apologetically when his eyes return to yours with a less than favorable answer. “and a highlighter... but it’s yellow.”

you roll your eyes and reach to grab your pencil case.

jock!yuji who effortlessly catches up to you in the courtyard after lecture with just a few long strides, scaring the shit out of you when he nudges your shoulder with his elbow, maybe a little too hard given how you stumble slightly.

“jesus fucking-“

“you’re a fast walker!” he notes, sounding impressed. and then, his hand outstretched in front of you to reveal the hello kitty themed writing utensil you’d given him just thirty minutes ago. “forgot to give your pencil back.”

you wave him off, “keep it.”

his brows rise, “you sure?”

a curt laugh huffs through your nostrils. “trust me, you need it more than i do. or are you gonna rough it with your yellow highlighter for the rest of the day?” you tease.

it’s boyish, crooked, and just a little bit cute the way he smiles down at you. a little bit.

“very funny.”

jock!yuji who finds you in one of the library’s quiet study rooms later that week with your head down, brows clenched, and focus unwavering as you meticulously drag a stripe of translucent blue over the capitalized header of your notes.

it takes you a few seconds to notice his big brown eyes gazing at you intensely. and when you do, all you can manage to get out is an, “um—?“

“i need you to tutor me.” he blurts, “please.”

your brow quirks suspiciously, “who told you i’m a tutor?”

his thumb juts behind him when he says, “the giant ‘tutor’ sign outside the door i just came through?”

you forgot about that. “right.”

but you swore you didn’t see his name on the list when you checked this morning, and you confirm that thought when you grab your phone and pull up your agenda for the day.

“what day did you sign up for?” you scroll through, seeing nothing but a blank page.

“huh?” his head tilts like a puppy in response to a dog whistle. “sign up?”

“yes. you have to sign up for a time slot.” he scratches his head like he doesn’t get it, so you continue with a deadpan expression. “the qr code? you know, on the giant sign you just—“

his bottom lip juts out. did he just fucking pout? oh my god he’s pouting at you.

“just sit down.”

jock!yuji who eventually uses your qr code to sign up for a tutoring slot with you every tuesday for the rest of the month so he doesn’t accidentally interrupt another of your solo study sessions, and it’s the one thing he’s actually on time for because he really needs to pass this exam.

sharpened down to its last leg now, the same hello kitty pencil is used to scribble his answer down on the loose leaf that you also provided him. it looks comically tiny between his fingers, his penmanship a little strained due to its inconvenient size. he flips the sheet to face you, pencil slamming down determinedly and eyes looking to you with anticipation.

craning your neck slightly, you click your tongue after a heavy moment of silence. “wrong.”

he scoffs. “what the fu— how?”

“you missed the second step,” his eyes squint at where your finger is on his sheet of paper. “yuji, if you miss the second step the entire equation is wrong, no matter what.”

groaning, he lets his head drops down onto his arms like bummed child. he was never good at math, let alone statistics.

you chew on your words for a beat, but curiosity gets the best of you so you ask anyway, arms crossing over your chest.

“why are you always late?” after a brief pause, you tack on, “—to lecture, i mean.”

a sheepish, quiet chuckle leaves him when he sits up and rubs the back of his head. it lacks the humor it should have, like he’s ashamed to talk about it.

“track. i have team lifts every morning,” he fiddles with your his pencil. “and i would’ve chosen another day to take the class but there was only one option, so,” his hands gesture to the air to complete his sentence.

“so track is more important than passing this class?” it comes out sounding harsher than you intended.

“uh, nah, it’s kinda complicated.” his jaw tenses, and it’s like you can see into him for just a moment. “i have a scholarship through track. it was just me and my grandpa for a while before he passed, so… that’s how i pay for school.”

guilt instantly drenches you, lips opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finish his explanation for him. “and in order to stay on the team, and keep your scholarship… you need to pass this class.”

his hands are flat and pressed together for emphasis. “really need to pass this class.”

he sees your eyes soften and waves you off immediately, he doesn’t want you feeling bad for him, it’s not your fault.

“i-i shouldn’t have assumed, i’m sorry.”

“don’t sweat it.”

jock!yuji who’s starting to impress you by his fourth tutoring session. he even has his own pencil and notebook now!

but now that his understanding is starting to pick up, he can’t stop his mind from wandering away from what you’re explaining to him on your laptop’s screen. he thinks about how put together you seem, how smart you clearly are. how you intentionally save a seat for him next to you in the lecture hall using your backpack now, with zero judgment and only understanding because you know he’s on his way. how your brows push together and make that cute little line between them when you’re double checking his work.

you glance up to ask if he comprehended what you just said to him, just to see his eyes on you instead of the very detailed tutorial you’d put together and recorded for him last night.

the tips of his ears run red and he’s brought back to reality, and your chest tightens with the intrusive feelings you’ve been trying to ignore when he blabs,

“what?”

your brows have that cute little line he was just thinking about between them right now.

“did you hear anything i just said?”

“yes.” he answers confidently. blindly.

“repeat it.” you demand.

his lips make way for words that never come, then they close.

your head dips to the side a little when you sigh, “yuji.”

jock!yuji who’s stomach flips when you say his name like that and he doesn’t know why. maybe it’s how you’re looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, like you want him to listen because you know he’s capable of getting this. like you believe in him.

swallowing hard, he sits up straighter, “sorry,” then runs his sweaty palms run over his jeans, thighs tensed. why are his hands so sweaty?

“i’m listening.”

jock!yuji who parades into the library like he just won the lottery, slinking into your study room cooly without pushing the cracked door open any further. all five fingers slap a stapled packet down over the notes you were reading. he has the most shit eating grin on his face.

“yuji—“

“read that,” he points to the top right corner, taps on it. “tell me what that says.”

so you do, eyes flying back up to see him so loaded with excitement that you find out he has a dimple.

“you passed!”

“b-minus,” his hands shoot up like he just won the super bowl, voice booming, “i fuckin passed, baby!”

a few very agitated students glare at him so you shush him and grab his wrist, yanking him to sit down with you. you try your best to stifle your laugh and ignore the sensation that blooms deep in your gut at what he called you, even if he didn’t mean it like that.

jock!yuji who is utterly shocked when he offers to treat you to lunch and you actually say yes (he was going to resort to begging if you said no). granted, he did phrase it as being a form of compensation for helping him pass the exam, since you volunteer as a tutor in the library for free and all.

he knows he was a pain in the ass to teach so he insisted, also because he couldn’t find the balls to ask you out without a reason beneath it as a safety net. what he didn’t know, is that you would’ve said yes regardless of his declaration of ‘owing you one’.

all his nerves wash away and replace with a small bout of confidence when you simply ask. “when?”

though they’re quick in their return, hitting him like a freight train the very next day as you stand at your front door where he’s picking you up from, beautiful as ever with a smile he selfishly wants to keep for some reason. but he won’t get ahead of himself, it’s only lunch, nothing more.

jock!yuji who is so much more than what you expected that you curse your past self for judging him before you really got to know him. he’s ridiculously funny, incredibly kind and insanely attractive. and while you’ve always known that last part, actually getting to know him made it all the more apparent.

he laughs at every joke you make, a real belly laugh, the kind that’s not the slightest bit polite and makes you laugh too just by hearing it. and he listens to you with his entire body as you talk about something he truly has no reason to care about, chin in hand, eyes peeled and face emotive.

but you won’t get ahead of yourself, and you’ll repeat it in your head until it’s what you believe. that as he places his card down on the bill and scribbles what’s supposed to be his name in cursive under the tip portion, that this is only lunch and nothing more. a kind gesture.

until the two of you are back in his dorm room and jock!yuji, who is beet faced and kiss drunk genuinely thinks he might pass out from how fast his heart is drumming against his ribcage when you break away from him to breathe, a string of shared saliva connecting you both. breathing is overrated, he thinks, flushed lips chasing after yours like they’re two halves of a whole that shouldn’t be separated, his body pressing into you with a hunger that makes your stomach churn. and you duck your head down to his tensed jaw instead, mind feeling hazy because his cologne smells so good it’s making you dizzy.

large hands squeeze your denim clad hips as you’re perched in his lap and if you shift them forward one more time he might lose his composure, but he still can’t stop himself from helping you rock down into him and he doesn’t think he wants to. the sensation of your heated gasp tickles against his skin, makes his adams apple bob dangerously in his throat and he’s really trying to be gentleman but you aren’t making this easy for him.

your lips are so much softer, so much better than he imagined and his tongue darts out to lick at his own, tasting the faint hint of strawberry you’ve left on them. you don’t know how many nights he’s spent wondering what your chapstick would taste like.

he relishes in the feeling of you nibbling at his skin, maybe a little too much, he realizes, when a strangled mewl claws its way from his throat and makes you pull away to look at him with adorable concern.

“should i get off?”

jock!yuji who’d do anything to keep you right here— who’s so quick to shake his head that you can’t help the giggle that escapes you and he can’t help but feel a little embarrassed for being so eager.

“please don’t.”

.

.

.

©plumkissed 2026

you let sammy fully undress both you and himself before you broke the kiss to roll over to your nightstand and pull something out. you could see sammy’s stomach drop as soon as he realized what you had in your hands, a fleshlight. it was something you only really used when you were essentially punishing him for something.

“baby wait, why’re you taking that out?” he whimpered, shifting around nervously on top of you.

you placed the toy on the bed beside you and caressed sammy’s cheek, “i think we need to work on your stamina tonight sweetheart. i mean, do you really deserve to be inside of me if you’re gonna keep blowing your load in under 30 seconds?”

sammy looked down, chewing on his lip for a moment before shaking his head, “n-no…”

you looked at him, titling his chin up with your finger and nodding pityingly, “exactly baby.”

you opened a bottle of lube and squirted some of the cool liquid on his cock, rubbing it over his length. sammy breathed shakily at the feeling of your hand on him, trying pathetically to buck his hips into your touch. you removed your hand shortly after, leaving him pouting at the loss of contact.

you placed the fleshlight on top of your pelvis, holding it steady in your hands, “okay, go ahead.”

sammy was just staring at your glistening pussy underneath it, he wanted to be inside of you so badly, not some stupid toy. “but…” he trailed off when you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly.

he slowly pressed into the toy at your behest, letting out a soft sigh at the feeling. it felt good, but nowhere near as good as he would’ve felt inside of you. he looked down to meet your gaze as he began to thrust in and out of it; his eyes looked so sad, as if they were saying, “why’re you doing this to me?”

“you’re doing so good sweetheart. keep going for me, okay?” you encouraged him, but sammy only whined in response.

he planted his hands on the bed beside your shoulders, speeding up the motion of his hips and trying to imagine that he really was just fucking you. the fleshlight was squeezing his cock, but it wasn’t warm and wet the same way that you were, and it didn’t try to milk him the same way that you did.

sammy let out a strangled groan, the sounds of his lubed up cock filling up the toy again and again were obscene. “w-wanna be inside of you,” he choked out, continuing to pound into it.

“i know baby, i know,” you cooed, running your hand over his chest, feeling it shake with the impact of his thrusts.

he moaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder, burying his face in your neck. his quick shallow breaths tickled your ear, making you shiver.

sammy continued like that for quite a while, definitely longer than he usually lasted inside of you, though eventually his movements began to get sloppy and you could tell he was getting close.

maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let him finish off inside of you…

you loved making sammy work for things, but at the end of the day you were as much of a sucker for him as he was for you. you couldn’t bear to let your sweet boy spill himself into a fleshlight after he’d done so well for you.

“okay sammy, you can come inside of me.”

he lifted himself up to look at you, still pumping into the toy, “i-i can? i can put it in?” his voice was shaky with disbelief.

“mhm,” you gently pulled the toy off of him and put it down, taking sammy’s lube-slick cock in your hand and lining it up with your entrance.

he pushed into you almost instantly, “ohmygod,” he whimpered, “feels so fuckin’ good baby holy shit,” he breathed out, driving into you with a renewed fervour.

your poor boyfriend was a complete mess but he still felt so good inside of you. sammy stretched you out so perfectly and always fucked you like he needed your pussy to survive.

“you’re being such a good boy for me sammy. you don’t need to hold back anymore, you can come, okay?” you wrapped your legs and arms around him, holding him in close to you.

“o-okay,” sammy nodded, pressing himself in all the way to the hilt a few more times before he started shaking, dropping his head back down again and moaning into your ear, “‘m coming, fuck i’m coming!”

“good sweetheart, doin’ so good for me, just like that.”

sammy emptied himself deep inside of you with a groan, his cock pulsing as his come spurted against your cervix. he kept himself there as he recovered, panting against your skin.

but christ, who knew such a meek and pervy guy who smokes weed next to the bathroom window was hiding not only an insane sleeper build, but a monster cock embellished with veins and a mushroomy tip that was bullying your cervix with every bounce.

“nnh— what did you do with them, cho?” you purr, dragging your thumb across choso’s bottom lip, your other hand planted firmly on his unfairly chiselled abs. his abs tense under your touch, his core fighting for movement but alas, he lost that privilege the moment you caught him fisting his cock with your latest pair of missing panties– and in your bed. said panties are wrapped tight around his wrists behind his head, lightly damp with his own pre and sweat and making his biceps bulge so deliciously.

oh how you want to sink your teeth into them…

“p-please–” he begs, drool collecting at the side of his mouth as you rolled your hips into his, a deep satisfied sigh pouring from your lips as the blunt head of his cock nudged against that spot inside you that made your tummy drop n’ your poor clit rubs against the coarse happy trail at the base of choso’s dick.

“c’mon, baby… don’t be shy on me now,” you tease, pressing your thumb against his bottom lip until he shyly parts his lips, eyes droopy with lust and need as you press the pad of your thumb to his tongue. 

“m’sorry—“ saliva drips down his chin as you press your thumb against his tongue, the wet muscle fighting against the pressure, lips loose around your thumb. 

“s’messy, cho,” you coo, your free hand scraping your nails up his chest, his body shivering with the mix of pain and the mindfucking pleasure of your pretty pussy wrapped snug around his aching cock.

he’s so rock hard it’s fucking painful— and you’re teasing him. and he’s letting you because he would rather let you fuck him until he was shooting blanks, than go back to jerking himself off with your panties choking the base of his reddened cock, or humping his mattress with his face pressed into the shirt you’d worn to the gym the day before, or having to excuse himself to rub one out over his sweats when you asked if your outfit looked cute for your night out with your girls. 

he’d let you do fucking anything to him right now.

your pretty manicured hand wraps around the base of his throat, finger and thumb squeeeezing the muscles on either side. 

your thighs tense as you lift yourself almost aalllll the way off his cock before dropping back down. you bounce and roll your hips, the wet bap! bap! of your ass meeting his thighs forcing choso’s hips to buck, wanting to fuck his mushroomy tip further into your cunt, as if he could bully past your already bruised cervix.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip, biting back a loud moan because he’s so stupidly big and has no earthly idea.

his fucked-out gaze draaaags down your pretty tits and the expanse of your soft tummy before settling on the translucent ring of cum that settles around the base of his cock, watching as your greedy pussylips swallow his length n’ your slick drips down his tight balls and pools against your pale bedsheets.

choso’s lips pull off your thumb, head thrown back and hitting your wall with a quiet thud because if he keeps watching, he’s gonna fucking cum, “ngh, f-fuck—“ 

“you like that, hm?” you sigh around a moan, feeling his cock twitch inside you. 

choso nods mindlessly, humming out an unintelligible noise as you slowly press yourself uuuup n’ dooown on his cock.

“c-can you go f-faster?” the question is a broken whine, his breaths hot and heavy as they fan across your throat. “please–”

choso feels the hand around his throat sneak higher, pressing tighter around his windpipe and forcing his eyes to roll back as you lift your plush hips off his cock just to plummet back down with a mean roll– but it’s still too slow for poor, sweet choso.

he whimpers again, the sound gurgled and forced from the pressure of your hand around his pretty throat.

choso’s eyes glaze with tears, “pleaseplease– i wanna cum–”

he can feel his balls tighten, feel the heat curl in his abdomen only to shy away when you lift your hips, just to fuck yourself with his tip, feeling the swollen tip catch and stretch your throbbing hole. 

“ngh, ngh– pleeeaaaase–”

you grin devilishly, pressing your lips to the corner of his eye to kiss away the salty globs. your grip on his throat loosens, but still holding possessively. the corded muscles of his biceps are taut behind his head; tensing and straining with the desperate need to grip you–

riiiiip–

you still your movements and choso’s eyes blow wide.

he ripped your fucking panties.

the remnants of the lacy black fabric hang loose around choso’s red wrists, deep lines indented into his pale skin from pulling and tugging against the delicate elastic. 

his pretty puppy eyes, filled with tears, glance up at you, “m’so sorry–”

you tilt your head to the side, a faux pout tugging at your bottom lip, “you wanna touch me that bad, cho?”

choso whimpers softly, eyes screwing shut, “y-yes.”

you run your hand through his hair, nails scraaaping against his scalp, “but you ruined my favourite panties.”

you feel choso’s cock twitch against your gummy walls, revelling in any type of affection you give him.

perv.

“i’ll make it up t’you,” choso mutters, hands landing very cautiously on your hips.

“oh, you will?” you lean in close, pretty lips brushing the shell of his ear, sending a mean shiver up his spine as your tits press flush against his broad chest.

choso moans against your shoulder, “yesyes– i promise.”

“how’re y’gonna do that, cho?”

you’re teasing him harder now, just fucking with him because he’s too pussydrunk to know what’s good for him.

“i-i’ll be s’good, i promise– i’ll make you feel sooo good, baby, please–” he’ll say anything to get you to bounce on his dick right now.

you grin against the hot skin of his neck, lips brushing down the thick muscle that tenses under your touch, “oh, yeah?”

“yeah– yesyes,” he whimpers, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and fingers curling into the meat of your ass as you nip and bite at the side of his neck.

you pull away, the hand sitting at the base of his throat curling to grab his jaw, fingers squeezing his cheeks and forcing his lips into a cute lil’ pout.

your eyes look him up… n’ down. 

“prove it, perv.”

in bed, under your sheets when he hovers over you, you've got the best view of his body glistening in sweat, his brown eyes dark and glossy with want, hunger. osamus lips are parted, letting every sound he makes out for you to hear. once upon a time he would've been shy about this, embarrassed at himself even — not anymore, not now.

now he gives you everything, all of him. raw and unashamed, osamu put himself on a platter for you to devour.

his hips slam into yours in a smooth consistent repeated motion, legs dangling helplessly over his shoulders with each thrust deeper into you.

breathing harshly with his sliver chain dangling over you. a simple dainty thing you'd gifted him, a pendant of your initial glimmering in the low light of the room. that's not what osamu has his attention set on now though; instead, he hones in on your lips. the way you've got them tugged between teeth, biting into them till their plump and red and nearly bloody.

osamu shifts his weight to his other arm, pulling your lip free with his thumb muttering out a breathy "you'll hurt yourself" brushing over it with his thumb once, twice before letting go and sliding his index and middle fingers into your itching mouth, he sees it, you need to bury your teeth into something.

"bite here instead. mhm theree you go darlin' now don't be shy. osamu can handle it"

you look up at him, meeting his dark glossy gaze with your own for confirmation. he want you to bite him? "come on now, you could do it. you were being so harsh with your poor lip just now. "

he punctuates each of his words with a slow deep thrust into you, dick hitting that sensitive spot inside you with each buck if his hips. you whine around his digits and finally bite down.

osamu doesn't hold back the groan that escapes him, his dick twitching against your gummy walls. "heh, there's my girll~ keep at it yea? m' -hahh all yers ta gnaw on. my girls very own chew toy. yeaa~ just like that. mhmhn"

your eyes teary as he picks up the pace, slamming himself into you faster, rougher. rubbing your clit in tight little circles . when you release his fingers at a particularly deep thrust, tip snug against your g-spot you cry out "os- sa- ahh~ muu" his name comes out in syllables, a moan between each one, your voice stretched and shaky.

he just shushs you, "bite down for me. feels good yea, sinking yer teeth into me? atta girl~"

osamu is now rarely ever seen without bite marks littered all over him. his neck, his arms, his butt (yea. yea. you freak. but he doesn't mind (he enjoys it more than words could ever convey))

he doesn't put too much effort into hiding them away form view, simply remaining unbothered by them as he goes about his day, running the restaurant.

if someone does comment he is so incredibly relaxed about it, "oh those?" ever so coolly. as if he doesn't even remember the little stinging marks are there despite the growing pride that makes his broad chest swell wider because between those cute indents of yours and the silver band on his left hand, everyone knows that he is yours.

and in his eyes, that's exactly how it's meant to be.